Chapter 14 - A Gift of Time

“Y-You’re sending me away?” Her voice cracked midway, breaking something inside Arlen in the process.

“Nadea,” he said gently—slowing stepping toward her.

“It’s not like that—”

“I can get better!” she shouted, desperate.

“I will get better! I don’t need to leave! I just need—” she hiccupped on a sob, choking on the words.

“I just need more time... please!”

The whole tavern seemed to hold its breath.

Elena’s hand twitched toward her, but kept some distance. Even Mira, usually so straightforward and decisive, looked unsure of what to say.

Arlen knelt slowly until he was eye-level with her.

“This isn’t a punishment, Nadea,” he said.

“It’s a gift of time. Time to practice—to grow.”

She shook her head, violently, stubbornly.

“I want to learn here! With you! I don’t want to go somewhere else, to someone I don’t even know—!”

Arlen’s heart twisted at her words.

But he had already made his decision. He reached out to place a gentle hand on her shaking shoulder.

“Sometimes,” he said, “the bravest thing we can do... is accept the help we need. Even when it hurts. Even when it’s not what we want.”

Nadea clenched her jaw, trying fiercely not to cry again—trying so hard to be strong.

But she was still just a child.

And Arlen, for all his power, could not undo the truth: her magic was bigger than both of them.

“It was thanks to my Grandmaster Selwyn that I’m able to stand here with you today,” the mage said, steady but with heaviness in his voice.

“He’ll guide you better than I ever could. He’ll help you become stronger than you can ever imagined.”

The words barely seemed to reach her.

But in the end, she didn’t yell again.

She didn’t plead.

She just stood there, shoulders hunched, shaking, as the last shreds of fight faded from her.

Finally, she looked at straight at him. Her teary eyes meeting his—evident with signs of exhaustion.

Of trying too hard.

Of trying to appease everyone.

—but himself.

“I’ll come back, right?” she managed a whisper.

“You better,” Arlen said, managing a small, regret-tinged smile.

“I’ll keep your bed ready. Your place in the guild. Your home.”

With a strangled sound, Nadea lunged into him, throwing her arms around him in a fierce hug.

Arlen caught her easily, wrapping her tight in his arms, the weight of guilt and melancholy settling deep inside him.

But for Nadea—for the first time—the magic in her hands did not spark, or flare, or feel like it might explode.

All she felt was warmth.

All she felt was home.

====

The next morning, Arlen brought Nadea back to her parents, where he shared the heavy decision that had been made. Their faces bore the grief only a parent could know—raw, silent, and helpless. Nadea’s mother had little strength left to fight the sadness that gripped her heart.

While Nadea and her mother quietly packed her belongings for the journey, Thom Venns pulled Arlen aside.

“Guildmaster,” he said, voice low and strained. “How long will she be gone?”

Arlen hesitated, then answered honestly.

“If she’s lucky, her training will take two years.” He paused, his gaze drifting to the young girl folding clothes with trembling hands. “But my journey was not so short. It took me four.”

He met Thom’s eyes, a flicker of hope in his own.

“But mark my words,” Arlen said, voice steady, “No matter how long it takes. She won’t return the same girl she is today.”

He placed a hand over his heart.

“She’ll return stronger... as a woman.”

====

“You’re leaving me with what?” Elena exclaimed the following day. A carriage waited outside Beacon Hall.

“It’ll be just a week,” Arlen said, hushing her as he could practically see her brain scrambling. “You’ve already got Triss and Trent running the counters. I just need you to make sure nobody picks a fight without Mira knowing.”

He bent slightly to scrub Pip’s hair affectionately.

“Make sure to look after our newly appointed Vice-Guildmaster, okay Pip?”

“You got it!” the eight-year-old saluted enthusiastically.

Arlen had decided to accompany Nadea to Eaglebrook, the neighbouring town three days' ride from Breezevale.

While he told himself that someone needed to keep her unpredictable magic in check—at least until the transfer to Solvenhold, where more established magic suppressants were available—deep down, he felt he owed her these last moments.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Nadea embraced her parents tighter than she ever had before. Her mother’s voice trembled, the words too soft to carry far.

“Are you sure this is the only way, Guildmaster?”

Arlen nodded, trying to speak with a certainty he didn’t quite feel. “It is. The Grandmasters will give her what she needs.”

Her father’s gaze hardened, though not at Arlen—but at the unknown future waiting for their daughter.

He tried to force a smile, but barely.

“She’ll be alright, won’t she?” he asked, his voice a quiet plea.

“She will be,” Arlen said, though even to his own ears, the words rang hollow.

He let one more moment to settle before finally calling. “Let’s go, Nadea.”

A tear slipped down Nadea’s cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. She gave a stiff nod, her hands trembling.

She didn’t speak.

Her parents, after a long, heavy moment, embraced her again—the last warmth of family she would feel for a while.

When they parted, her father gave Arlen a silent look of thanks. He returned a small, sad nod, and the carriage driver cracked the reins.

The horses pulled the carriage forward—the silhouette of Arlen and Nadea slowly shrank into the distance. The town of Breezevale lay behind them, the distant hills giving way to the long road ahead.

It would lead them to Solvenhold.

====

Nadea’s eyes beamed as they entered Eaglebrook—her first time stepping beyond Breezevale, the only world she had ever known.

But Arlen knew this road well.

Eaglebrook had been his last stop before returning to Breezevale—before buying the deed to the then-abandoned Beacon Star Inn.

It was a busier town then, bustling with merchants and travellers. In the past, not much trade had flowed between Eaglebrook and quiet Breezevale.

But now... Arlen could see the change.

Perhaps it was the growing demand for gear and equipment, or the steady stream of new adventurers that Breezevale had begun to attract. Whatever the cause, Eaglebrook seemed less distant, less different.

Their markets—once worlds apart—now felt nearly the same.

They stopped at a modest inn near the town square, the Wayfarer’s Nook—a small, sturdy building with ivy creeping up its stone walls. It had little to offer in terms of luxury, but enough for one night for Arlen’s standards.

He helped Nadea down from the carriage. Her head was still swivelling back and forth, wide-eyed at the unfamiliar noise and colours of a bigger town.

“We’ll rest here for the night,” Arlen said. “There's one thing we need to get before we leave tomorrow.”

Heading towards to market square, Arlen steered Nadea through the crowd toward a small stall set up near a fountain. An old merchant squat behind a case of glowing trinkets.

If there is one thing that Breezevale lacked, and that Arlen had not needed to have a supply of until now—were magical equipment.

“Mana stones!” the merchant rasped eagerly as they approached. “Fine cuts, fresh outta Solvenhold itself! Stabilization charms, suppression stones, even a few amplification shards—if you've the coin and the courage!”

Arlen leaned in, scanning the display. His eyes settled on a small, pale blue stone set in a simple iron pendant—not flashy, but solid.

“How much for that one?” he asked, pointing.

The merchant squinted, then grinned. “For a suppression stone? Normally twenty silver, but I'll say seventeen for a man who knows what he’s buying.”

Arlen didn’t haggle—quietly laid the coins into the merchant’s outstretched hand.

Nadea was craning her neck to get a better look at the bright stones in the case. The Guildmaster held the pendant close to her eyes.

“This is yours now,” he said. “It’ll help when the magic feels... too big. Wear it under your clothes, close to your heart.”

Nadea looked curious, offered her neck for Arlen to help her wear it. Her fingers curled protectively around the mana stone.

It was no immediate—but it was as though a silent thumping in her heart had gradually slowed.

She nodded, solemn beyond her years.

Later that night, Arlen sat by the window of their rented room—watching the moonlight as it spilled across the floorboards

Nadea had already fallen asleep, the mana stone faintly glinting as it rested against her chest.

They still had a long road ahead.

Tomorrow, by noon, the carriage to Solvenhold would rattle into town, and she would begin the week-long journey toward an uncertain future.

But for tonight, at least—she slept without fear.

And for now, that was enough.

====

The next morning, Nadea made her way down the inn’s creaky stairs, bleary-eyed but trying her best to muster excitement. The mana stone hung around her neck, tucked neatly under her tunic.

Arlen waited by the hearth downstairs, something long and wrapped in cloth resting across his lap. When Nadea approached, he stood and offered it to her with a small smile. "Thought I should get you this."

Nadea blinked in confusion, hesitating before taking the bundle. She pulled the cloth away—and gasped.

A staff, sized just right for her height, rested in her hands.

It was simple but beautiful: a sturdy ashwood shaft, polished smooth, with a faint spiral of etched runes winding along its length. At the top, a small iron setting cradled a space perfect for holding her mana stone once she was ready to channel through it.

"I know it’s a little early," Arlen said, watching her expression carefully. "You're not ready to use it yet—not properly. But when the time comes, you'll have it."

Nadea clutched the staff to her chest, almost too overwhelmed to speak.

"Thank you, Master Arlen," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"You'll grow into it," Arlen said, ruffling her hair gently. "Just like you'll grow into the magic."

He straightened, masking the ache in his heart with a warm smile.

"Now, how about we look around town before our carriage leaves?"

She nodded in quick, excited bursts.

They spent the next little while weaving through the narrow lanes. Arlen pointed out shops and stalls—a bakery with fresh sweetbreads cooling on the windowsill, a blacksmith hammering away at horseshoes, a group of merchants setting up for the day’s market.

Nadea clutched her new staff like a treasure, beaming at every new sight.

By noon, outside their inn, the carriage to Solvenhold waited. Its door bore an insignia Arlen hadn’t seen in years but still held close to his heart—a staff and a wand crossed in unity, with a floating jewel suspended between them.

Arlen and Nadea worked side by side to pack her things. Her clothes were neatly folded into a travel trunk that Arlen had secured with leather straps. Nadea fretted over the arrangements, checking the straps and bags again and again, her nervous energy spilling over. Arlen only watched with a patient smile, occasionally stepping in to retie a loose knot or shift a bundle for better balance.

Everything was finally stowed and secure, Arlen dusted off his hands and turned to her.

"You’ll need money for food along the way," he said, pulling a small coin pouch from his cloak and pressing it into her hands. "Be sure not to spend it all in one place."

The pouch felt light in Nadea’s hands, and for its size, it didn’t seem to carry much.

But when she unfastened it, her eyes widened in disbelief. Over a small pile of silver and copper, sat the unmistakable glitter of two gold coins.

"Master Arlen, this is too much!" she whispered urgently, careful not to draw attention.

"I wouldn’t expect Grandmaster Selwyn to teach you for free," Arlen chuckled. "Don’t worry, Nadea. It would lighten my heart greatly if you would just accept it."

Nadea was still shaken.

Her whole life, she had only ever held a few pieces of copper to help her mother at the market. One gold coin—a thousand copper or a hundred silver—would have been more than two months of her father's earnings, let alone savings.

"One last thing," Arlen said, reaching into his cloak once more.

He pulled out a small, hand-inked card—the soft leatherback still fresh, the letters carefully etched.

Kneeling before her, he pressed it into her hands.

It read:

Nadea Venns—F-Rank Caster, member of Beacon Hall, Adventurers’ Guild

"Your first adventurer card," he said, voice rough with feeling.

"You’re one of us. No matter where you go."

With slow realisation, her hands trembled as she took it—staring down at the precious token. One far more valuable than the mana stone, the staff, or even the gold she now carried—combined.

Nadea clutched the card tightly to her chest, her face crumpling with a flood of tears—but this time, there was something brighter in them.

Hope.

She rushed over to hug the Guildmaster at his hip, squeezing him with the most strength—just this once more.

“I’ll make you proud…”

“You already have,” Arlen said as he ruffles her neat hair one final time.

Without another word, she climbed into the carriage.

Arlen stood tall as the carriage rumbled away down the dirt road, wheels cutting faint lines into the earth. He raised a hand in farewell—but Nadea didn’t see it.

Her head was bowed, her small form still and steady with resolve.

He stayed standing long after the carriage had vanished beyond the trees, until the last echo of its wheels faded into silence.

Only then did he let his hand fall.

The courtyard felt too large without her.

The world, a little emptier.

Out on the road to Solvenhold, the little carriage bumped along, and inside, Nadea Venns sat a little taller.

Ahead of her lay uncertainty, hardship, and growth.

Behind her, a weary mage standing guard over her dreams.

Her staff resting across her knees. Her mana stone glinting faintly at her throat. And in her hand, held tight against her heart—

A card that whispered she belonged.

And home to come back to.