Chapter 46

Nick frowned, leaning back against the wall, folding his legs beneath him. "Inspected? What does that even mean?" he whispered, quieting as Elia's ears twitched in annoyance while she strained to catch the conversation below."Shh." She waved a hand without breaking her focus from a small hole in the wall. "They're still talking."

Reluctantly, Nick adjusted his position and pressed his ear closer to the window, straining to get a good look at the reflection in the glass. Even though he didn't dare manipulate the air to amplify the sound—not with Alexander just below and the scare he got from Ogden—he could still make out snippets of the conversation. The voices that filtered through were low and tense. This was not a pleasant chat.

"It's an insult," Teo said, trembling with barely contained rage. "We've lived here for years and served this community. I have fought alongside the other warriors to defend Floria. And now they want to treat us like feral beasts?"

"They don't trust us," Elia whispered bitterly, sounding so far from the usual happy girl he knew. "They never will."

Nick didn't respond; he didn't know how. Below, Alexander's tone remained calm yet strained, as if he were attempting to extinguish a house fire with just a bucket of water.

"I understand your anger, Teo," the vicar said. "I would feel the same in your place. But the order didn't come from me. It's Prelate Marthas who's pushing this."

"I don't care who it came from," Teo spat. "So now we're all under suspicion?"

Alexander sighed. "This isn't about suspicion. The prelate likely sees this as a way to quell the rumors that usually follow monster tides. The inspection aims to ensure that everyone in the community understands there's no internal danger. Once that's done, they'll be able to start addressing external threats without worrying about having any within."

"No danger?" Teo snapped. "The danger's already here, Alexander. It came in the form of a stampede, and we fought it off—beastkin and human alike. But now you're telling us that isn't enough?" Evidently, he wasn't about to be moved off that point.

Nick winced at the raw anger in Teo's voice. He glanced at Elia, whose face had darkened even further. Her eyes narrowed as her claws lightly scraped the wooden floor.

Wulla's voice joined the conversation. "Beloved," she said gently, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "Anger won't help us here."

"I'm not just angry," Teo growled, though his shoulders slumped at her touch. "I'm insulted. Humiliated."

"I know," Wulla replied. "But we have to be careful. If we refuse, it'll only make things worse. It's not just the two of us against the world now. We have more people, more of our kin, who'd suffer if we opposed this order."

Alexander seized the opening, his voice softening. "Wulla's right. This isn't about punishing anyone. It's about reassurance. I promise you that the inspection will be conducted with dignity. Prelate Marthas may be stern, but he's not cruel."

"Dignity," Teo muttered, his voice bitter. He shook his head, staring down at the porch. "It doesn't feel that way."

Wulla's hand remained firmly on his shoulder, and slowly, Teo exhaled, his anger dissipating into something more subdued. "Fine," he said at last. "We'll comply. But don't expect me to pretend this isn't an insult."

Alexander inclined his head. "Thank you. I know this isn't easy, and I appreciate your understanding."

Teo let out a humorless laugh. "I'm not doing this for you, Alexander. I'm doing it for my family."

The vicar nodded, his expression heavy. "That's more than fair. And, Teo, Wulla… thank you for helping with the injured yesterday. Without you, I don't know how many more we would have lost."

Teo stiffened for a moment, then relaxed slightly. "I just followed Wulla's instructions," he muttered. Then, more pointedly. "Now, if you're done, I think it's time for you to leave."

Alexander hesitated, looking between the two. "Of course," he said after a moment. "I'll see myself out."

The conversation ended with the sound of retreating footsteps, followed by the gentle creak of the front gate swinging shut.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Upstairs, Nick glanced at Elia, who was staring intently at the floor. Her tail flicked once, twice, then stilled.

"So," he said cautiously, "how bad is it, really?"

Elia snorted, her ears flattening against her head. "It's humiliating," she muttered. "They'll treat us like we're about to grow horns and start attacking people. It doesn't matter how long we've lived here or how much we've done for this town. To them, we'll always be beastkin first and people second."

Nick frowned, unsure of how to respond. He'd seen glimpses of prejudice here and there, but hearing it laid out so plainly made it all the more uncomfortable. Unfortunately, this wasn't something that had a simple magical solution.

"Your dad didn't look like he wanted to go along with it," he offered. The best he could do was let his friend release her frustration.

"He doesn't," Elia said, her voice tight. "But he will. Because he knows what happens if we fight back.” The subtext there was not subtle or pleasant.

Nick let the silence linger between them, leaning back against the wall. "For what it's worth," he said quietly, "I think it's ridiculous. You and your family have done more for Floria than most humans here. If they can't see that, they're idiots." And they had. He had personally seen Teo battle through monsters and knew that Wulla was a key provider of affordable herbal remedies, as she regularly ventured into the Green Ocean to gather their ingredients and brewed them herself. She might not be a fully-fledged alchemist, but most sicknesses didn’t need fantastical concoctions to cure.

Elia gave him a small, bitter smile. "Thanks, Nick. But it doesn't change anything."

"No," he admitted. "I guess it doesn't."

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the muffled sounds of the town drifting in through the window. Finally, Elia stood, brushing off her skirt. "You should go," she said. "It's getting late."

Nick nodded, rising to his feet. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out to ruffle her hair.

"Hey!" she protested, batting his hand away.

"See you tomorrow," he said, grinning despite himself.

Elia rolled her eyes but didn't reply, her tail swishing as she turned back to the window.

As Nick went down the stairs, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't be as easy as Alexander suggested.

The sky was just beginning to shift from ink-black to a soft blue when Nick stepped into the dry fields behind his house. The air was cool, brushing against his face with the kind of crisp stillness that promised a quiet morning. It was early enough that the town was still half-asleep, but Nick didn't mind. He preferred it this way. Fewer distractions and more room to think.

The previous night, he had spent the walk back from Elia's house trying to piece together what he had overheard, but no amount of analysis brought clarity. With the sun beginning its slow climb, he allowed the questions to drift to the back of his mind. Something else demanded his attention today.

As Nick reached the edge of the fields, he pulled a thin, silvery pouch from his hip and opened it carefully. The moment he did, he felt a faint hum of power as the wyvern wing bone was revealed.

It was about the length of his hand, smooth and polished to a pearly sheen. Its natural curve suggested its original purpose as part of the upper wing that had once carried the mighty beast through the skies. Nick ran a finger along its surface, feeling the faint grooves and ridges where sinew had once attached. The mana within was undeniably powerful, though it remained still and inert in death.

Despite himself, he smiled. It wasn't every day that he could hold a piece of a Prestige creature in his hands. For someone like Nick, who had spent most of his life scavenging for scraps of magical materials, this was more than just a rare find.

He held the bone in both hands, closing his eyes and allowing his senses to reach out to it. The mana flowed through it like a great gale, mighty and barely controlled. It was raw power, barely constrained by the material housing it.

It would decay over time if not properly treated, but he took a moment to luxuriate in the fresh feeling.

Opening his eyes, Nick took a deep breath, following the Stalking Gait’s pattern. Holding the bone tightly, he cast .

The spell erupted with a ferocity he hadn't anticipated. A concentrated blast of air tore into the ground before him, shredding dry earth and brittle grass in a four-foot radius. Nick staggered back, blinking against the sudden rain of debris.

When the dust cleared, he stared at the destruction, his heart racing.

"Whoa," he muttered.

The patch of field before him looked like a mechanical scythe from the modern world had gone through it. The earth was churned up, and the grass was shredded into fine fragments. The effect was far greater than his usual —a reliable spell, but nowhere near this level of devastation.

Nick exhaled slowly, placing the wing bone back into the ghostgrass pouch. He stood still for a moment, letting his breathing stabilize, before casting again just a few feet to the right.

This time, the effect was noticeably weaker. The blast still carved into the earth, but the damage was smaller—about three feet wide—and the edges of the gouge were rougher, resembling something heavy being dragged across the ground rather than the clean tear he had achieved with the bone.

Nick nodded to himself. The difference was clear. Even in its raw state, the wing bone acted as a rudimentary focus, channeling his mana with precision and power that elevated the spell to a whole new level. He had suspected it would, but he had never experienced anything of this magnitude. Earth's foci were typically passed down through generations and were either a family secret or too generic to be anything but a crutch.

He crouched by the edge of the first blast zone, running a hand over the jagged dirt. His mind was already working, spinning with possibilities. The bone's natural ability to channel his spells was a game-changer. Its mere presence enhanced the spell's visualization, the casting's speed, and the mana's purity. All of it pointed to one thing: if he could integrate a focus like this into his magic, he would finally be able to deal some real damage to his enemies. While Nick was used to subterfuge and trickery, he couldn’t deny the allure of having some heavyweight spells under his belt.

Of course, he couldn't simply wave the bone around and expect it to keep enhancing his spells. It would weaken over time, leaving him with a shiny, expensive paperweight. However, he could study it and hopefully uncover enough of its secrets to advance his affinity or craft a focus from it.

Reaching into his pack, Nick pulled out his journal and a piece of fine charcoal. Flipping to a blank page, he began to sketch.

He first drew the basic structure of . Then, beside it, he sketched a modified version, representing what he could glean from the changes caused by the wyvern bone. It would take hundreds of repetitions before he had a clear idea of what it was, but for now, an approximation would do.

On the next page, Nick drew a new diagram. This one was more complex, with lines and runes curling into patterns he'd only half-understood when he first studied them. It was Ingrid's spell, which he'd dismissed as too difficult weeks ago, .

In the past, the precision required had been beyond him, and the mana cost was too high. But now, with the wing bone in his possession and a clearer understanding of how a focus worked, Nick was beginning to see a path forward.

He tapped the page with the edge of the charcoal, his grin widening.