Hannah stepped forward. Her hands were shaking. She placed her hand on the crystal.
For a moment, nothing happened. The crystal stayed dim, its blue light fading to a whisper. Hannah's heart sank. Of course. She was magicless. Just a regular human.
But then-
A faint, golden light flickered to life in the center of the crystal.
It was small, at first, barely a spark. But then it grew, spreading through the crystal like wildfire, until the entire room was bathed in a warm, golden glow.
The receptionist's eyes widened. Helda gasped. Even Helmut, who'd been picking at a loose thread on his tunic, fell silent.
The golden light pulsed, bright and steady, like a heartbeat.
Hannah stared at her hand, at the golden light glowing beneath her fingertips.
She was not magicless.
The receptionist's jaw dropped. She scrambled back from the pedestal, her clipboard clattering to the floor, and cupped her hands around her mouth.
"Manager! Manager, get in here!" Her voice was a shrill mix of panic and annoyance, the lazy, bothersome drawl of someone who hated being pulled from routine.
"You've got to see this—there's no SOP for this, none!"
Footsteps thudded down the hallway, and a burly man with a bushy beard and a leather apron appeared in the doorway. He wiped his hands on his apron, his brow furrowed.
"What's all the fuss about, Lila? I was sorting bounty posters-"
His words died in his throat when he saw the crystal. The golden light bathed his face, turning his beard to honey and his eyes wide with disbelief.
He crossed the room in three long strides, leaning in to stare at the crystal like it might bite him.
"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered. "Never seen that in twenty years running this guild."
Lila threw her hands up.
"See? I told you! The four elements are red, blue, green, yellow—gold's not even on the chart. What do we put on her ID? There's no scale, no level, nothing in the rulebook!"
The manager straightened, turning to Hannah. His gruff face softened a little when he saw her wide, nervous eyes.
"Kid, can you make it do anything else? A spark, a glow, anything? If you can show us what this magic does, we can classify it. If not…" He shrugged, gesturing to the stack of blank ID cards on the counter.
"We'll have to slot you as the lowest magic-tier hunter—rank F, no specialization. You'll have to work your way up with missions, same as everyone else."
Hannah stared at her hand. The golden light had faded when she'd pulled her fingers away from the crystal, leaving only a faint tingle beneath her skin.
She tried to summon it again, tried to will the spark back to life, but nothing happened. The crystal stayed dim, cold, and ordinary. She shook her head, her throat tight with disappointment. "I… I can't. It only did that once."
The manager nodded, like he'd expected as much.
"Fair enough. Rank F it is, then. You'll take odd jobsherb gathering, rabbit trapping, delivering messages, until you can prove what your magic's good for. No shame in it; everyone starts at the bottom." He clapped her on the shoulder, his palm rough but gentle.
"Lila, get her an ID card."
Lila huffed, but she grabbed a blank card from the stack and scribbled HANNAH in sharp, scratchy letters.
No last name, no title, magic class irregular —just a name, stark and simple, the way orphan kids registered at the guild always did. It was perfect. It was a blank slate. It was a far cry from Hannah Bennington, the third daughter who'd been a ghost in her own home.
Hannah took the card, her fingers brushing the cool paper. It felt like a key—like a ticket to somewhere far away from the Bennington territory, far away from Kael's fists and the countess's sneers.
"Thank you," she said, her voice quiet but steady.
Helda squeezed her arm, her eyes warm with pride.
"You'll do great, kid. Don't let the rank fool you, gold's not a mistake. That's something special." She pressed a small pouch of dried berries into Hannah's hand, a last-minute gift.
"For the road. And if you ever need a roof over your head… the orphanage's doors are always open."
Hannah hugged her, quick and tight. She hadn't been hugged since she was a little girl, before the countess had decided she was a burden, and the warmth of Helda's arms made her eyes burn.
"Thank you," she whispered again. "For everything."
She said goodbye to Helmut, too, he waved, his mouth stuffed with the last of his apple, and then she turned and left the guild, the ID card tucked safely in her tunic pocket.
The winter air bit at her cheeks, but she barely felt it. She had a list to make, supplies to buy: a dagger for protection, a iron cooking pot, a canvas tent small enough to strap to Bess's back, a satchel for herbs.
She spent the next hour going from shop to shop, haggling with merchants and counting her gold carefully, her new tunic pulled tight against the cold.
By mid-afternoon, she was ready.
She led Bess to the territory gates, where two guards stood watch, their spears glinting in the weak winter sun. One of them stepped forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Papers," he said, his voice gruff. "Purpose of travel? Destination?"
Hannah pulled her adventurer's ID card from her pocket, holding it out.
"Hannah. Rank F hunter. I'm going to gather herbs in the western woods, maybe cross into the next territory, if the pickings are slim."
The guard glanced at the card, then at Bess, then at the satchel of supplies slung over her saddle. He nodded, waving her through.
"Go on, then. Stay clear of the bandits' camp west of the river. And be back before dark, we lock the gates at sundown."
Hannah didn't answer. She just smiled, a small, secret smile, and kicked Bess's sides gently. The mare whinnied, and they trotted through the gates, into the open fields beyond.
The Bennington territory shrank behind her, the manor's spires fading into the winter haze. Hannah didn't look back.
She had a name now, just Hannah.
She had a rank, a card, a path.
She had a spark of golden magic in her veins, and a whole world waiting for her beyond the hills.
.
.
.
Not a league behind her, the count's knights fanned out across the territory, their cloaks billowing in the winter wind as they pounded on cottage doors and cornered merchants in the market square.
Each carried a vague description, dictated by the count's hazy memories and Kael's bitter sneers: a noble daughter, fair of face, dressed in fine clothes, riding a chestnut mare.
At the fruit seller's cart, where Hannah had bought her apples that morning, a knight slammed a fist on the wooden planks, making the remaining fruit jostle.
"You seen the Bennington third daughter? Runs small, but she's noble, fancy gown, proper manners, the works. Rode out on a chestnut mare with a white star on its forehead."
The fruit seller, a round man with frost on his mustache, squinted at him.
"Noble lass from Bennington? Ain't seen none of that today. Had a scruffy girl in a wool tunic here earlier, bought three apples, shared one with a crying orphan.
Rode a chestnut mare, yeah, but she looked like a servant's kid, not no lady. Barely spoke two words to me."
The knight scowled, dismissing the man's words with a wave of his hand. "That's not her. The Bennington daughter wouldn't be caught dead in wool. She'd have jewels, silks—"
"Jewels don't keep you warm in this frost, sir," the fruit seller muttered, turning back to stacking his apples.
"Ain't seen no fancy ladies. Just folks tryin' to get by."
The knight cursed under his breath, spinning on his heel to confront the tailor next, who'd sold Hannah her tunic and gown.
The tailor only shook her head, saying the same thing: a quiet girl, haggling sharp, paying with silver, no trace of nobility about her.
The knights fumed, kicking at the cobblestones as the sun dipped lower.
How could a girl vanish so completely?
.
.
.
"Evening," she called, voice calm, no trace of the tremor that used to cling to her words.
The guard lifted his lantern, light washing over her and Bess. "Evening yourself. Where you headed this late?"
"On my way to the next city over," Hannah said, keeping her tone casual, her hands loose on the reins.
"Lost track of time with the sun setting so early. Was hoping I could stay the night here—just for one night, then I'll be gone at dawn."
The guard studied her a moment, eyes flicking to her supplies slung over Bess's back, the dagger peeking from her belt, the plain wool tunic. He nodded, unbarring the gate with a creak.
"Fair enough. Inn's at the center of the village—last room's probably still free this time of night. Don't wander the woods after dark, though. Wolves."
"Thank you," Hannah said, giving a small nod. She urged Bess forward, through the gate and into the quiet village, the warm glow of cottage windows wrapping around her like a faint, tentative promise.
In less than minutes she arrives at the inn,
The village was tiny—two minutes' slow ride and Hannah reached the inn, its windows glowing warm.
She tied Bess outside, stepped in, and the door shut behind her, blocking the cold.
"Evening, " she said to the woman behind the desk. "I need a room for the night, dinner, and could someone tend to my mare? Feed her hay and water, please."
"Good evening darling, my name is Kelly. Room's a silver a night. Dinner's 3 copper, mare's feed 2 more." Kelly looked up, wiping her hands on a cloth.
"Thanks. Quick question—any bookstore here, or something like it?" Hannah asked, fingers brushing her tunic pocket.
Kelly shook her head.
"No proper shop, but there's Random Antics on the main lane. Jumble of odds and ends, but they've got books—old ones mostly, plus tools, trinkets, the like. Opens at dawn, swing by tomorrow."
"Perfect, that's exactly what I need," Hannah said, pulling out coin, laying down a silver first then 5 more copper. "There's the room, dinner and mare's feed."
Kelly counted, nodded, sliding a key across the desk.
"All set. My boy's out back—he'll tend to your horse right now."
Hannah tucked the key in her pocket.
"You folks get many travelers passing through?"
"Few adventurers, peddlers mostly, folks cutting through the woods to skip main roads. Quiet here, no trouble," Kelly said, nodding at the hearth where a few men sat drinking.
"Good to hear. I'm heading south right now, just taking it slow," Hannah said, keeping it vague.
"Smart! South roads are safer than west this time of year. Dinner's stew and bread, help yourself at the corner table when it's up in ten," Kelly said, gesturing over.
"Thanks again, Kelly. I appreciate it," Hannah said.
"Anytime—holler if you need more water or blankets. Stay warm," Kelly replied, turning to take an order from a patron.
Hannah grabbed her satchel, headed for the corner, already thinking of the odds-and-ends shop come morning.