The Next Morning
The smith doors creaked open as Lumberling stepped into the morning light, soot-streaked and smiling.
"Finally done," he murmured, brushing metal dust from his hands. His eyes turned toward the elves. It was time.
He walked across the clearing, and as he approached, Aurelya's voice rang out sharp as ever.
"Hey! You haven't fulfilled your promise of playing chess with us! Or are you running away 'cause you know I'll beat your ass?"
"Sorry," Lumberling said, brushing past with a grin. "Had to finish something first."
Then, turning to Vaenyra, he spoke plainly. "I want to learn magic."
The conversation ground to a halt. Silence reigned for a moment.
"Magic?" Thessalia repeated, her tone unreadable. "You may have helped us... but that's not something we can simply give away."
"Even if it's you, it's not so easy," Aurelya added, crossing her arms. "Maybe if you serve me for fifty years, I'll think about it."
