9. A Crow's Secrets

The night had been chaotic until Crow finally decided to rest. She said she could probably heal her hands as early as the morning, hesitation flickering in her eyes. Rowan had work until the afternoon, so he told her not to rush herself.

When he arrived at his small office, a summons was waiting on his desk. He stared at it for a while, not quite understanding why he was receiving one.

Report to the training room at nine this morning.

When he arrived, Duskbane was waiting, leaning against a large window.

“Good morning, sir,” Rowan bowed.

“Where’s the Glass Cannon hiding?” His voice was tired, bored even. Rowan tilted his head.

“Elowen.”

“Oh! I’m not sure, actually. She has a room with the guild, so she might still be sleeping.”

That apparently was not what he wanted to hear; his eyes narrowed, “If she’s not here in ten minutes, I’m going to send someone after her.”

They waited. Still no sign of Crow anywhere. Duskbane huffed and stuck his head out the door, yelling to the first adventurer he recognized. Izuke had no Idea who it was, but he heard stomping away from the door, so they at least respected Duskbane.

It was already half past nine when a half-awake Crow was carried into the training room over Garran's shoulder. Her braid was a mess, she was barefoot, still in pajamas, and clearly trying to escape. Garran held her firmly, looking like he was barely keeping from laughing. Someone followed behind them.

Kiki.

He was right behind her, eye beginning to bruise, looking furious.

“Duskbane, don’t ever ask me to retrieve a gremlin for you ever again,” he growled, glaring at Crow, who was muttering under her breath like she was solving an equation.

The bandages were off her hands, they appeared to be fully healed. A relief washed over Rowan. Kirishima slowly sat her down, though she was still muttering.

“What the hell happened?” Duskbane raised an eyebrow.

“I was being kidnapped,” Crow muttered. Rowan had to stifle a laugh.

“I knocked on your door first, you witch!” Kael snarled back.

“He was dragging me out of my bed–”

“I told you I would if you didn’t get up!”

“–He could have been a monster. So, I kicked him.”

“I heard the commotion and helped,” Garran added, clearly amused. “He might’ve tried to kill her if I didn’t.”

Duskbane pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why is it always me?” He muttered.

“Why are we here so early anyway?” Crow was still wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“Early?” Kael raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s get this over with,” Duskbane sighed. “Rowan, one of my colleagues is coming in to train you specifically. The central branch of the Adventuring Guild has decided that you and Elowen are… special cases.”

His gaze shifted to Crow. Rowan couldn’t read his expression.

Kael gave her a strange look, too.

“Elowen–”

“Sorry, Duskbane Sir, if it’s not too much to ask, I don’t…really go by that name anymore.” She was surprisingly respectful.

“What do you want to go by then?” His tired eyes were on her, impatient.

“I just go by Crow,” She said softly.

“Makes it easier to hide you from the church, then.” He took out her codex. Rowan realized he hadn’t given them back yesterday and started tapping through it.

“You’re authorized to do that?” She looked stunned, “But the church, they said–” her eyebrows knitted together.

“Are you an idiot?” Kael said harshly, causing something to stir in Rowan again. he had been managing to keep it together so well, too.

“Guild authorities have the same access as a church officiants to your codex; the church just takes the responsibility most of the time because guilds have enough to deal with their members.”

Rowan glared at Kael. “You didn’t have to be so rude about it. Some religious families have no idea.”

Kirishima glanced over at her curiously but said nothing.

Crow tensed. Rowan felt guilt twist in his gut. She was scared of the Church. He knew that.

“Well, Crow, the guild has unfortunately taken up interest with you specifically. Something's strange about your codex, and they’re worried you’re a danger to civilians.” The dark-haired man started, “And because you have skills that can nullify magic, they unfortunately want me to look after your training.”

Her stomach dropped. “I’m…not a fighter, sir. I know the basics on wielding a sword and daggers, but when I didn’t awaken…” she trailed off.

“Not a fighter my ass,” Kael stepped forward, “You almost took my ear off last night. You nearly took my ear off last night. If I didn’t deal with explosions every day, I wouldn’t have caught that punch.”

She chewed her lip. Rowan could see her mind spinning.

“If I told you that was something like instinct taking over, you wouldn’t believe me,” She muttered.

“You’re damn right I wouldn't!”

“Hush, problem child,” Duskbane snapped, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“I,” she looked back at Kael, “Can he leave?”

“He’s going to be an integral part of your training, so no. His whole party will be.”

“WHAT?!” they screeched in unison, causing Rowan to cover his ears. Garran just laughed.

“No way, old man,” Kael snarled.

“Unfortunately, you and your party are the only ones in this guild that have the credentials to do so,” Duskbane said through clenched teeth. “So you’re doing it or losing rank and potentially risking a disciplinary tribunal.”

“I think it’ll be fun, Kael! I’ve never really trained anyone before.” Garran added, trying to keep the peace.

“This is bullshit!” He snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at nothing.

“Sorry, kid. Anyway–Crow, explain.”

She tugged at her sleeves nervously, “Well, uh. When my unveiling didn’t happen, I studied alchemy instead, so I never really got into fights—I just kind of… disappeared from everyone. It was easier.”

“What does that have to do with this ‘instinct’ you’re talking about?” he looked her over.

She sighed and looked down. “My unveiling wasn’t–it was nothing like anything I’ve witnessed before. Usually, you go to the church, and they see your codex needs to be accessed and updated, so you have your class and such. Mine–it was strange.”

“Considering you’re in your twenties, I could have guessed that,” Duskbane said dryly.

“Well,” she shrank away, her voice with her, “I don’t remember everything, just angry voices, but when I cut my hand on one of these daggers,” her thumb rubbed against the sigil on the pommel, “The best way I can describe what happened was power was forced into my veins. It was…It hurt, excruciatingly so. When I woke up, it was like–sometimes I just go on autopilot. When I was lost in the ruins for a month–”

“Ruins? A month?” Duskbane paused, his tone skeptical.

“The Eclipsed Reliquary,” she murmured. “The way I went in was collapsed, and I wandered the tunnels for a month before I found an exit that… led here.”

Rowan’s breath caught in his chest. She’d mentioned this before, but hearing it again sounded... impossible.

“A month?” Kael scoffed, disbelieving. “How did you survive down there? You’d have starved.”

“Monsters are edible if you purify their meat,” she muttered, her voice almost a whisper.

Kirishima looked at her in awe. “So manly.”

“What?” The humor drained from Kael’s face. Rowan mirrored his confusion. Monsters in dungeons weren’t just dangerous—they carried mana-borne diseases, parasites, and poisons that could kill a person easily. The idea of eating one was absurd.

“If you purify monster meat, it becomes edible,” she said, a bit louder now, frustration building as her face flushed with embarrassment.

“How the hell do you–”

“I studied alchemy for ten years,” she snapped, a trace of bitterness creeping into her voice. “I used purification circles—look, I didn’t say I enjoyed eating them, I did what I had to, okay?”

“People still study alchemy?” Kirishima tilted his head.

“How do you think they craft potions and magic items, shitty hair?” Kael was still glaring at her like he was sizing up his next enemy.

Rowan’s heart twisted.

“She was a noble,” he thought, “Of course, she turned to something else when she couldn’t use magic.”

“You studied alchemy...even after having no way to manipulate mana at all?” Duskbane’s eyes narrowed, skeptical.

Her shoulders tensed, and Rowan caught the flash of pride and defiance in her gaze.

“You can adapt anything if you try hard enough.” She gave Duskbane a wicked smile.

“But that doesn’t explain—”

“Do you know why mana crystals can sell for platinum marks depending on their origin or even how intact they are?” Crow interrupted, her words coming fast now, like a mantra she’d repeated a hundred times. “The purer the crystal, the easier it is to access the mana, making it better for crafting. If you purify them even further and stabilize them—”

“ Get to the point, Birdy.” Kael cut her off, his impatience clear.

She glared in return.

“You can create something that will light an alchemy circle without using your own mana; it can use the mana within the crystal, but if you make it right, it can also absorb the ambient mana in the area. It’s like… starting a fire with a match, if that makes sense.” Her eyes sparkled, but they were far off, like she was calculating something else.

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

“And you figured that out on your own?” Kirishima was in awe, “So you’re like…smart then?”

She blinked back, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. If that’s what you wanna call it.”

Rowan’s brow furrowed. “If you can do that, why hasn’t it been used for magical weapons or gear? Wouldn’t it be better than just embedding magic stones into things?”

“Well, it is… kind of,” she bit her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “But to make a full weapon would be… ”

“Dangerous?” Rowan offered.

Her gaze shifted, calculating, as if considering the weight of her own words. “Tedious. The materials, the purification, the encapsulation. You’d need a blacksmith who could even work with adamantite… It’s just..Not something most crafters have the patience or resources for. And the Church doesn’t like alchemy being used to ‘bypass divine magic. ’” Her voice dropped on that last part, bitter.

A heavy silence settled over the room. Even Kael didn’t fire back right away.

“We get it.” Duskbane’s voice was tight, cutting through the conversation. “But we're getting off topic; you need to explain this ‘instinct.’”

Crow hesitated, her expression faltering. “When I woke up in the ruins, I... I woke up knowing how to use the daggers. I knew swordplay before that from when I was a child, sure. But this was different.” Her voice dropped to a quiet murmur. “And when I'm not thinking about it, when my body just… moves, it's like it's—it's not me sometimes. It's like, when my adrenaline is pumping, when my fight or flight kicks in, my body decides running isn't the option."

Duskbane’s gaze shifted, intrigued. “Interesting. It’s not unheard of in the Sentinel class to gain access to the ability to wield weapons, but it’s not as common.”

Crow tensed, clearly uncomfortable with the shift in attention.

“And that dagger?” He motioned to the one she still held loosely, her thumb tracing the sigil. “That’s the one that you think caused your Unveiling?”

Crow hesitated. “Yes. The pair of them. I found them buried in an alchemical seal, locked beneath a statue in the Reliquary. They weren’t supposed to be touched. I cut myself trying to study the rune pattern. That’s when everything… started.”

Duskbane nodded. “Let me guess,” he murmured, like something suddenly made sense. “Then your codex began reacting without even being touched?”

She looked away. “It updated itself. I thought it was going to shatter because of how hot it got. I–I didn’t catch everything, but it said something about forced reclemation? I’m not sure exactly what that could have even been.”

“And you had a class afterward.” Duskbane finished.

“Yes,” she looked as though she were going to bolt any minute. Like telling them this was terrifying, dangerous.

“What class did it show?” Kirishima asked, curious but gentle.

Crow swallowed. “Eclipsed Sentinel.”

Kael’s eye twitched. “The hell is that supposed to mean? Eclipsed? I’ve never heard of a class with that.”

Duskbane’s brows drew together, his gaze turning sharp. “We’ll need to report that to the central guild archive. If there’s a class not documented, especially one tied to relics, it could be part of a sealed lineage or forgotten school of magic.”

“No,” Crow’s voice cut in, urgent. “Please. If the Church hears of this—if they see the daggers—they’ll try to take them. Or me. Or both. They already wanted to cleanse once because they didn’t like the fact that I made something that could spark alchemy circles. That I was 'going against divine judgment.'” She wasn’t looking at anything, just her hands.

That stirred something angry in Rowan. “They tried to erase your codex? Because you found a workaround?”

“They said it was ‘alchemically corrupted.’ That I was becoming a heretic.” Her hands clenched in her sleeves. “They decided destroying my research would do instead.”

Duskbane exhaled slowly. “Fine. I won’t report it. Not yet. But that means you work with me directly, reporting all anomalies. And you stay under this guild’s jurisdiction. Understood?”

She nodded, tight-lipped.

“Good. We’ll start combat training tomorrow.”

She shifted uneasily, still fidgeting with her sleeve. “I don’t think martial training is necessary. I’m not—”

“What are you going to do when the Church comes after you?” Duskbane’s voice hardened, no trace of humor left.

“They don't know I’m—”

“When someone finds out you’re carrying relics on your hips?” His tone darkened.

“I’m not planning—”

“What if your father sees you as a threat because you’re still alive?” Duskbane’s eyes locked onto hers, his tone menacing.

Crow stumbled back a step, a cold shiver running down her spine. Garran ’s eyes went wide.

“Duskbane, sir, I appreciate your concern, but—”

Duskbane’s scarf unfurled like a whip, flying toward her in a blur. She barely had time to react, twisting out of the way just in time, rolling to the ground.

“What the hell!” she yelped, anger flashing in her eyes.

“Good. You have potential,” Duskbane said flatly, as if the whole thing was just another lesson. “Training starts at four in the morning. You three are expected to be there,” he said, looking at Kael, Crow, and Rowan. “Kirishima, you’re off the hook–for now.”

The tall man cringed but nodded.

Kael scowled. “So what, we babysit an alchemist now? With no combat ability?”

“You’re going to train with her. Keep her from dying. And you keep your temper in check.”

Kirishima, ever the optimist, clapped his hands. “Well, at least it won’t be boring!”

“No,” Duskbane muttered, rubbing his temple. “It really won’t.”

Crow’s eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. She looked like she was going to interject.

“You don’t have a choice.” Duskbane’s eyes were on her, unwavering. “You almost killed yourself healing someone. Not only that, but you have no means of protecting yourself other than running on adrenaline, which won't cut it. You’ll be here, or I’ll drag you to the training field myself.”

Rowan could see the weight of the situation settling over her, but Duskbane wasn’t done. “Prepare yourselves. We need you in full control as soon as possible, you especially, Ashford. Your circumstances make you even more dangerous if you lose control. I’m not really privy to letting people in on guild business, but The Sanctum of the Eternal park is planning something, and with you two at the center of these magical anomalies, you’ll be involved whether you like it or not.”

With that, Duskbane turned and left without another word, his presence leaving a heavy silence in his wake.

----------------------------------------

“Uh, Mister Ashford?”

A new receptionist hovered at the door of the appraisal room, nervously tapping her knuckles against the frame. “Sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t find anyone else. People are reporting… explosions? In the training grounds?”

She winced, clearly expecting trouble. “I was hoping you could maybe… look into it?”

He sighed through his nose, Kiki.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” he said with a reassuring smile, rising from his desk.

She nodded quickly, clearly relieved, and all but ran off.

By the time he stepped onto the field, Rowan was bracing for a full-blown Kael meltdown. His jaw tightened.

Always making trouble.

But just as he stepped onto the field, a bolt of lightning cracked down at the center. He flinched at the delayed thunderclap.

Okay. Not Kiki.

“Crow?”

He shielded his eyes from the glare, catching her silhouette through the sunlight. The way it caught her hair—highlighting a streak of blue beneath the dark brown—gave him pause.

Interesting.

She casually tossed a stone forward, and a pillar of deep violet light erupted from the ground. Rowan’s brows knit.

“Crow,” he called, voice sharp.

She jumped and spun toward him, visibly startled, her expression slipping into a sheepish grin.

“I guess the locals weren’t thrilled about my test run,” she said, half-apologetic, half-proud.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he asked—though the corner of his mouth tugged upward despite himself.

Her eyes lit up with unmistakable excitement.

“Did you know that if you overlay an alchemy circle with a spell glyph from an elemental family, it creates a conditional reaction whenever the circle is disrupted?” she said, practically bouncing on her toes.

Rowan blinked. “No? Wouldn’t that just make it a spell circle?”

“No, no! That’s entirely different,” she said, waving him over enthusiastically. “I’ll show you.”

From her pouch, she produced a worn notepad and pencil, flipping it open with practiced ease. Her hands flew across the page—sketching with precision born of repetition. Rowan leaned closer, watching the spell take shape.

His eyes widened. “Crow, how do you know an entire flame spell circle by memory?”

Flame spells were standard spells, sure—but just drawing a spell circle isn’t something you just do. Not without having to look at a reference, at least.

“I told you—I can copy things,” she said, shrugging. Her eyes were alight.

“You said you could copy handwriting.”

“Runes are handwriting,” she said simply. “Spell circles are just. Sentences. With more consequences.”

Before he could argue, she flipped to an earlier page.

“This is an alchemy circle.”

He leaned in. It was simpler than a spell circle but no less foreign—geometric, coded, like a mathematical formula with secrets tucked in the margins.

“Okay… and?”

“This one’s built for containment and stabilization, like for potions, right?” she explained. “But if I add a gravity rune right here—” she tapped the margin, “—the containment field becomes reactive.”

“Reactive, how?”

“Pressure-based detonation, delayed onset. It only triggers when disturbed.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow but was stunned. “You figured all this out today?”

She hesitated, then glanced down. “I never had enough mana to test it before. The alchemist I worked with for a while said it... wouldn't work. And if it did, there was no practical application because it wasn't something you could even use mid-battle. ”

His posture softened. “And now you do. But are you sure you can control the output?”

She gave a wobbly laugh. “Control is… a developing skill.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, but couldn’t suppress a small smile; something about her excitement was contagious. “Just clean it all up when you’re done. And seriously—no more surprise explosions. You’re scaring the receptionists.”

He ruffled her hair lightly on his way past, earning a surprised but delighted grin. She immediately turned back to her notebook, muttering to herself about elemental pairings and mana flow differentials.

As Rowan walked away, one thought lingered:

Is this what I look like to other people?

----------------------------------------

When the next morning came, Rowan struggled out of bed. He was an early riser—but not four-in-the-morning early.

As he shut his door behind him, he noticed a small note tacked to it.

Head north. You’ll know the place when you see it. Come alone.

He followed the instructions without question, silently guessing this was Duskbane’s doing.

The cool morning mist clung to the forest’s edges, curling around ancient stone like ghostly fingers. In the heart of the woods stood a broken tower, its presence humming with old magic—worn, but not gone. It felt... sacred.

A cough rasped behind one of the pillars.

Rowan turned sharply, eyes wide.

A tall, thin man emerged from the fog, a cloak fluttering at his heels. He was hunched, gaunt, but his eyes burned—bright, fierce, unshakable.

Torian Dawnbreaker.

Or whatever was left of him. Rowan remembered him being bigger, stronger even, when he saw him as a child.

“Y-you’re—” Rowan’s voice caught in his throat. “You’re him. The Hero of Emberwatch. The Fang of the Fallen Gate. The—”

The man raised a hand, smiling gently. “Haha! No need for all that, young Ashford. Just Torian will do.” His voice was weathered but powerful—controlled, tamed.

Rowan straightened, trying not to burst.

“I—I read about you in the guild archives! You cleared the Crimson Blight solo, rescued a whole village from the Ashen Warband, and—and—!”

“Yes, yes, I did a few things,” Torian chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But those days are behind me.”

Rowan looked down, his heart racing.

“I always thought… You were more than just an adventurer. You were a hero. Someone who stood up when no one else could.”

Torian’s eyes softened. “And now it’s your turn to do the same, isn’t it?”

Before Rowan could respond, a voice echoed from a nearby stone—dry, familiar, and laced with amusement.

Duskbane.

“Good luck, Ashford,” he called. “Try not to pass out in the first hour.”

Then—he was gone. Just a shimmer in the shadows.

Torian’s expression shifted, growing serious. “This training… it won’t be easy. And it must remain secret. No one can know where you go or what you learn here.”

Rowan blinked. “Why?”

Torian looked up at the silver-tinged morning sky.

“Because what I’m teaching you… isn’t something the world is ready for. And because there are ears in places you’d least expect.”

He paused. Then, added quietly, “Because I’m like you.”

Rowan frowned. “What do you mean?”

Torian’s smile changed. Something wild flickered behind his eyes—something ancient. He inhaled slowly, and for a heartbeat, the world shimmered.

His form shifted.

Bones stretched. Fur shimmered faintly across his arms. His shoulders broadened. It stopped short of full transformation, but his presence grew heavy. Primal. The wind itself bowed around him.

“I’m a werewolf too, Ashford.”

Rowan stepped back, not in fear—In awe.

“There are more of us than you think,” Torian said, his voice lower, rougher. “Some are hiding. Some are in power. Some are still fighting the beast inside.”

“Are... are there more like you?” Rowan asked. “Controlled?”

Torian’s expression sobered. “Very few. That’s why your training matters.”

He stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Rowan’s shoulder.

“From this day forward, your mornings are mine. Strength. Speed. Control. You’ll train until your bones ache.”

Rowan straightened, fire in his chest. “Yes, sir!”

“In the afternoons, you’ll return to the guild. Normal work. Normal life. We can’t let anyone suspect you’re becoming something more than just another adventurer.”

Rowan nodded, jaw set.

“And when the moon rises—” Torian’s eyes gleamed, cobalt and untamed. “We’ll tame the beast inside you.”