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Rabia Gale

alchemical fantasy

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The Heartwood Chronicles

Amber's out of work and down on her luck, far from home and trapped in a dead-end town. She's this close to working at Stunning Spells, a magical sweatshop that churns out generic spells. 

But then she runs into a group of the strongest mages she's ever seen. Accidentally caught up in their mission, Amber's given the chance of a lifetime--and a place to finally belong.

List of Story Arcs in chronological order:

  • Hopeswell Arc (the beginning<--START HERE)
  • Chrysalis Arc (completed)
  • Amber and the Odd Job (bonus story)

Bonus Story: Amber and the Odd Job

Hello, Heartwood readers! It’s been a while since my last update. I’ve been busy working on Book 3 of my Reflected City series, but I took some time out to work on a Heartwood story for you. This takes place right after where the e-book exclusive story ends BUT you do not need to have read that one to enjoy “Amber and the Odd Job.”

Speaking of the e-book, Sun and Strands is now available outside of Amazon. Find it at: Apple | Barnes & Noble| Google Play | Kobo

Now on to the story!

The client’s name was Wisteria Plumepuff, and she lived on the outskirts of Carradia. She’d reported a haunting at her house on—here Amber stopped reading the yellow form and exclaimed, “Kael, this was posted nine weeks ago!”

Kael, ambling beside her down a quiet lane overhung with willow branches, said, “Yeah. It was the oldest job. That’s why I took it. Did you want to look for the lost purse or handle the infestation of flour weevils instead?”

Amber shook her head. “It shouldn’t take this long for a Heartwood mage to attend to a request. I thought we were supposed to build goodwill with the people of Carradia. A much-delayed response isn’t going to help. Why aren’t the local jobs on the crysts?”

She was asking the wrong person. As far as she knew, Kael didn’t even know where his was.

He shrugged. “Probably because Ainsley’s at the front desk most of the time. She’s more of a pen and paper type. She very nearly didn’t let me take this in the first place. It broke up the symmetry of the butterfly pattern she’d created on the job board.”

Amber stared, momentarily speechless. Heartwood’s approach to administration, she’d learned over the weeks, was highly individual and often lackadaisical. She thought she was getting used to it.

Apparently not. Her orderly soul shriveled at the thought of organizing job requests by butterfly design. She took a deep breath.

“By the way,” Kael said, forestalling the tirade, “you look nice.”

Amber sighed. “That was a blatantly transparent attempt to change the subject,” she said, “but thank you.” She smoothed down the fabric of her new skirt, even though it was quite unwrinkled. Made of thick fabric in Heartwood red, it made her stand out more than she was used to. A white shirt, collared, buttoned-down and tucked in, and a fawn-colored jacket completed the ensemble. Her Heartwood badge was pinned on the jacket’s left breast pocket, indicating that she was on academy business.

Kael, too, wore a badge, though his look was more on the tousled and careless side. She almost envied him his casual ease. Had she overdone her own outfit? If only the skirt wasn’t so…so…red.

If it were less red, it would be pink, she reasoned. Still, the respectful greetings the Carradians had given her and Kael in town made her want to sink into the pavement with awkward embarrassment.

He belonged; she wasn’t so sure about herself.

“Amber, Amber.” Kael’s voice snapped her out of her reverie. From the exaggerated patience of his tone, he’d been trying to get her attention for a while.

Amber blinked. Kael stood by a broad track going off to the left. “What is it?” she asked.

“We’re here.” Kael pointed up the lane. A farmhouse sat atop a small rise, the sort of building you’d find inland on Ravin, whitewashed with blue shutters, pitched grey roofs, and a porch that wrapped around the house. The forest formed a looming crescent circle behind it.

Amber and Kael strolled up the track, lined with birches on both sides. Their slender white trunks were topped by a spring finery of young green.

A heavyset man, carrying a leather bag and wearing a purple vest, trudged down the track from the house. His head was down, chin tucked into his chest, oblivious to their presence.

Kael called out a greeting. The man looked up, thick eyebrows drawn together. His black eyes glared.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” said Kael cheerfully.

The man grunted something unintelligible and bulled past the Heartwood mages. Amber skittered out of the way, but his arm brushed against hers for an instant. She caught sight of his pattern, suns small but misshapen, twists of indigo. The small dirt-dispelling charm in her jacket snapped apart, smacking and flaring against her skin. She winced.

“You okay?” Kael asked.

“Yeah.” Amber rubbed her forearm, staring after the man. The pattern skewed slightly around him. The yellow lettering on the back of his jacket read STUNNING SPELLS. A jagged lightning bolt separated the words.

Stunning Spells strikes again.

“What was that magic?” Kael asked.

Amber grimaced. “Some sort of pattern disruption. The spell it unraveled in my jacket wasn’t robust to begin with.” The other spells in her clothes remained, though they vibrated indignantly. “I don’t think he knows he’s doing it, though.” There had been no intentionality in that small burst of magic.

“Hmm.” Kael looked at the retreating man, his gold eyes intense, his usually laughing face serious.

“He’s not strong enough to do much damage,” Amber said. “I think.” Sometimes Kael could be downright scary. “Let’s go.” She started towards the house again. After a moment, Kael followed.

***

The last thing Amber said before she knocked on the front door was, “Let me do the talking.” She rapped and stood back, wondering what a Wisteria Plumepuff would look like. She imagined a small, plump woman with wispy hair—probably purple.

She didn’t have long to wait. As the door was wrenched open, Amber put on a bright smile and nudged Kael to stop slouching.

The woman on the other side was tall, with dark hair in tortuous curls, a long, lugubrious face, and spectacles. She wore a deep purple dress with several necklaces of varying lengths. Ceramic pendants hung from each chain.

She peered shortsightedly and suspiciously at Amber. “Yes?”

“We’re from Heartwood Academy, ma’am.” Amber held out the job request. “We’re here to look into the haunting.”

“Oh.” The woman glanced down at the request, then back up at Amber and Kael. Her eyes behind the lenses were very blue. “You’re a bit late. The man from Stunning Spells came out a month ago to take care of it. He returned today to check up on the spell he installed. He left only a few minutes ago; you just missed him.”

And who knows what all he messed up in the meantime. “I’m sorry it took us so long to respond,” said Amber, “but could we take a look around, just to make sure everything’s all right?”

“It’s free of charge,” Kael added.

Amber’s smile froze.

Miss Plumepuff pushed her spectacles back on her nose and started doubtfully at them. “You are very young, both of you.” She sighed. “I suppose it can’t hurt. My studio’s been almost too hot recently.” She clumped onto the porch. Under the purple dress she wore sensible boots. “Come on then.”

Amber hung back as the woman descended the steps. “I was going to offer her a discount,” she hissed at Kael.

“You said to build goodwill,” he reminded her. “Besides, those goons at Stunning Spells almost killed a memory moth. Don’t you want to make sure they don’t mess something else up?”

He had a point. “Yeah, I do,” said Amber grimly.

Miss Plumepuff led them behind her house and down the short slope to a barn. The forest had crept close to the building. Amber caught sight of still-bare branches of maples and elms amongst the dark green firs.

Huh. That’s funny. The slope is south-facing. It should get a lot more sun.

Indeed, a cold aura surrounded the barn, the chill soaking through her light jacket. Amber shivered and folded her arms around herself.

Miss Plumepuff hauled one of the big barn doors open. “Come on in,” she called over her shoulder. “There’s plenty of room.”

Kael entered first, Amber crowding in behind him. A familiar jangle rang in her head.

She grimaced. Yet another malfunctioning spell.

Kael turned and gave her a questioning look. Amber activated one of the spells she wore, the one imprinted in her hair tie. It readjusted the pattern around her, sending the worst of the discordant vibrations around her. The noise in her head eased, and she gave him a small I’m-okay gesture.

“This is my studio,” Miss Plumepuff announced from the middle of the space, hands on her hips. Despite its openness, it was quite warm. Large windows let in the afternoon sunlight. “Try to be careful, please.”

“Wow.” Kael wandered over to a huge brick kiln on one side. “This is amazing.”

When Wisteria Plumepuff had mentioned studio, Amber had half-expected easels and canvases. It was, however, clear from the wheel, the kiln, the long tables and smell of clay that Miss Plumepuff was a potter.

Oh, and the long shelves crowded with pots and mugs and plates were a dead giveaway.

Highly breakable pots and mugs and plates. Amber darted a warning look at Kael, which he completely missed since he was still examining the kiln.

“Can you tell me about your…uh… haunting problem?” Amber asked.

The woman shuddered. “Oh, it was quite horrible. I felt something watching me, something with cold breath and malicious gaze. It was right there.” She pointed dramatically to a spot behind Amber.

Amber spun around, expecting to see an old blood stain, but that section of stone floor looked just the same as the rest.

“Did you see the… um… apparition?” she asked.

Miss Plumepuff shook her head. “Never. But it watched me, I’m sure of it, from there”—her finger moved to a closet—“and over there.” She pointed to a spot under a window sill covered in potted plants, still flowering.

Kael sauntered over to the sill and peered at the pots. They contained bell-shaped flowers of deep blue. “These are bitter blues, aren’t they?”

Miss Plumepuff beamed. “Yes. They’re my favorite flowers, but it’s hard to keep them blooming all winter long. One of my friends sent me this variety she’s grown in her hothouse…” Having pegged Kael as a fellow lover of flora, she launched into a monologue about hybrids, fertilizer, and soil composition.

Amber used this opportunity to track down Stunning Spells’ charm. It was near the kiln, wedged behind a stack of firewood. Amber peered at it with both her normal sight and her mage senses. A hollow ceramic sphere around a runic core, it had been painted purple and yellow. Clearly, Stunning Spells had updated their branding.

Myriad wires snaked out of the ceramic shell, their ends taped to the wall and floor. Pattern strands, pulsating red, bunched in cords around the wires. Heat came off in waves from the spell.

Amber grimaced. Of course. Stunning Spells had treated the symptoms, not the disease. Miss Plumepuff had complained about cold spots in her studio, so all Stunning Spells did was to get rid of them.

By pulling heat from the outside and dumping it inside the barn.

A lot of heat, judging from the thickness, color, and overall energy of the pattern around the spell.

Great, thought Amber unhappily. All this heat is just masking the cold spots. I’d have to unplug the spell, wait a few days for the pattern to normalize, then come back and investigate what might’ve caused them in the first place.

Somehow, given the way the woman had looked earlier, she doubted Miss Plumepuff would agree to that.

Amber made a This-isn’t-going-to-be-easy face at Kael from behind Miss Plumepuff. His gold eyes flickered in her direction; he gave a slight nod, and then deftly maneuvered their still-talking client to the door.

“Goodness me, here I am taking up all your time when you just wanted to look around.” Miss Plumepuff gave a girlish giggle. “Come up to the house when you’re done. I just baked some lemon cookies. Oh, and give the door a hard shove on your way out—it doesn’t shut all the way sometimes.”

As soon as Kael had shut the door—hard—behind Miss Plumepuff, Amber gave him the bad news. “No wonder the trees behind the barn haven’t leafed yet,” she finished unhappily. “The spell’s pulling a lot of heat from the surroundings. I’m surprised it hasn’t fizzled out or worse, started a fire already. Stunning Spells isn’t known for solid and safe workmanship.”

“They sent that guy here today.” Kael peered behind the potted bitter blues, then examined the glazed vases on a nearby shelf. Miss Plumepuff’s style ran to squat, odd-shaped, and brightly colored. “Would his magic twist the spell like this?”

Amber winced. “Yeah, probably. It was put near the kiln first, to draw excess heat from there. But someone with disruptive magic on even a small scale could mess up Stunning Spells’ shoddy work, no doubt about it. Now it’s pulling heat from outside and shows no sign of stopping until it overloads. Those people are a menace, I tell you.”

“Hmm.” Kael knelt down and looked into the gap under a closed cupboard.

Amber put her hands on her hips. “Kael, why’re you looking inside pots and under furniture?”

“Searching for a frost mouse.”

“A what?”

“A frost mouse. We get them around here sometimes.” Kael rose to his feet and gestured in the direction of the forest. “The bitter blues reminded me of them. Bitter blues expel their seeds when it gets cold in the fall. Frost mice like to eat them, so they’ll often hurry up the withering stage by making it colder around the plants.”

Amber’s eyes widened. “Oh! Miss Plumepuff did say she noticed cold spots near the window.” She frowned. “Just how big is a frost mouse, anyway?” She hadn’t signed up to battle giant rodents.

“Normal-sized for a mouse. It’d fit in my hand,” said Kael from under a table. “Hey, couldn’t you use your witchy sensing magic to find it? I bet you could.”

Amber was still thinking. “I’m assuming a frost mouse doesn’t have that much of a range. The bitter blues aren’t that big either; it wouldn’t take a lot of cold to speed up their seed dispersal process. But Stunning Spells’ magic is dumping a lot of heat into the studio. It should be boiling in here. So, the question is this: Just where is all that energy going?”

Kael emerged from under the table, his gaze fixed on a point above Amber’s head. “Uh, Amber? I think we’re about to find out.”

Amber spun, following his gaze up to the hayloft. Something large and sinuous—about the size of a dog—rustled in the straw.

Its pattern was a knotted mess. Thick cords of reddish energy clung to it.

It jumped.

Amber squeaked and hid behind Kael. The creature landed with a thump, a grunt, and a scrabble of paws. Its eyes gleamed red, its long snout opened to reveal needle-like teeth. Its sinuous body was a dark grey and a long, worm-like tail slithered behind it. Waves of chill emanated from its fur.

“How’s that a frost mouse?” Amber demanded. “It’s a giant ice rat!”

Drool dripped from the creature’s jaw, long trails of saliva that puddled on the floor. Ew!

“The spell must’ve changed it,” Kael said. “Look, it’s hurt.”

Indeed, the giant rodent appeared to be having a bad time of it. It scratched an eye with a paw, staggered off balance, nearly flopped onto one side.

It didn’t have the hang of moving the large body it currently occupied.

Well, that’s one good thing at least. Maybe capturing it won’t be so hard after all.

The rodent glared at the Heartwood mages. Its muscles bunched and gathered.

It leapt right at Kael.

Kael’s suns flared. He punched the creature in the face, his fist wrapped in heat-shimmer and fire-yellow.

The rodent sailed through the air and landed on its back, squealing and writhing. The thick pattern cords wrapped around it flared red and dug cruelly into the creature. Its pattern fluxed.

“Kael…” Amber warned.

The rodent rolled onto its paws, muscles rippling, fur sparking.

Is it just my imagination or did it just get larger?

The rodent opened its mouth. An icy blast—likely mixed with rat drool, gross—sent Amber staggering back a step. The temperature plummeted. Frost clung to Amber’s face and nipped her ears.

“Don’t use your magic!” Amber yelled as Kael moved in again. “Heat’s just going to make it bigger!”

“I got it.” Kael pounced on the rodent, trying to pin it to the ground. The creature fought back, writhing furiously, snapping at whatever part of Kael was nearest.

What if it’s carrying a disease? He could get infected and turn into a zombie! “Be careful!” she yelled. She tugged at the pattern strands dumping energy into the creature. But they were sunk deep into the rodent’s body and burned her mage senses. Amber hissed in pain. Even if she did manage to yank them out, she didn’t know what would happen.

Probably an explosion of rat all over Miss Plumepuff’s studio.

Amber didn’t relish the idea.

The rodent bucked and knocked Kael into a set of shelves. It tilted dangerously. Amber wrapped pattern threads around it, keeping the shelves from falling over.

The items upon it weren’t as lucky.

Clay vases and pots rained down on the combatants and smashed to pieces on the floor.

Lovely.

This couldn’t go on—she had to do something. Ice skimmed the surface of the table and crawled up the glass windows. The bitter blues, so bright a moment ago, withered, petals turning brown and shedding across the sill.

Yet another thing Miss Plumepuff’s going to hate us for.

Amber’s breath misted in front of her face as she scrambled over to the firewood. Heat wrapped around Stunning Spells’ charm. The colder it got, the more energy it drew from the outside and poured into the rat. The ceramic shell sizzled and jumped. Sparks exploded out of it, showering upon the split logs. Amber covered her face with her arm.

Fire and ice at the same time? Give me a break! Amber hastily coated the wood with a slick fire-proof pattern. Then she went back to wrestling with the threads that connected the spell to the enlarged frost mouse. The threads stung as slid and twisted in her mental grip.

“Amber,” Kael called with clenched-teeth calm, his hands around the rodent’s neck, keeping its snout away from himself. The writhing creature pushed Kael into a table covered with unglazed pots. Amber hurriedly stabilized the teetering ceramics, but a couple got away from her and crashed onto the ground. “Can’t you do something about this guy?”

“The stupid Stunning spell is sunk in too deep!” Amber snarled. “It burns to the touch and the rat keeps moving besides! This isn’t as easy as it looks, Kael!”

“Oh, you need it to stop moving?” Kael balled his hand into a fist and slammed it into the rat’s head.

The creature went boneless on the floor, a dazed look in its eyes. The cold waves it emanated ceased and Stunning Spells’ malfunctioning charm went from a sizzle to a menacing drone. The temperature in the studio slowly began to climb back up.

Amber surveyed the combatants, sprawled amongst pottery shards. “Good. Now take care of that thing.”

Kael and the rodent looked at her reproachfully.

“It’s not the frost mouse’s fault!” Kael pointed out. “It just had the bad luck to get caught in a badly-done spell. Frost mice are harmless, really. Can’t you do what you did with Flavius?”

“Flavius is a human being. This is a rat.”

“It’s a mouse,” Kael corrected. “Please?”

Really, it was ridiculous that both boy and rodent wore identical expressions of appeal. Amber sighed. “I’ll try. It’ll take a while though, and Miss Plumepuff might not be so forgiving when she sees this mess.” Trickles of melted water ran down the table legs.

“It’ll be best to take the mouse into the forest, anyway,” said Kael. “I’ll carry it.”

“You’d better. I’m not touching that.” Amber reached over to the troublesome spell that had caused their predicament in the first place. It was almost spent; when she poked it with a finger, the ceramic covering crumbled to dust. There was a brief flare of venom-green runes. Then they, too, dissipated. Amber broke off the connection to the frost mouse. The spell remnants still clung to the creature, but at least she’d cut off that nasty feedback loop.

“You should get out of here soon,” she told Kael. “I’d rather Miss Plumepuff not see the creature you’re trying to save. She might insist on killing it right here and now.

“And”—she looked around—“someone has to break the news to her—no pun intended. I suppose it’d better be me.”

Kael beamed, his expression warm and gold as the sun. “Thanks, Amber. I owe you one.”

“You’d better remember that,” she said, turning away so he wouldn’t see the answering twitch of a smile on her face. She really shouldn’t be feeling so light inside when he’d just talked her into playing doctor to a rodent, of all things.

***

“Everything going all right?” Hours later, Kael slipped back into the clearing and put something warm and woolen around Amber’s shoulders.

A coat. Amber snuggled gratefully into it. Bluish-silver rune lights cast a moon glow in the deepening twilight, but they held no warmth at all.

“Yep. In the end, all I had to do really was remove the nasty leftover bits of that spell. The frost mouse’s body wanted to return to its normal self. I made sure it didn’t revert too fast—that would’ve killed the creature, I think.”

“Thanks, Amber.” Kael sat down next to her and placed a basket in front of them. “I brought food.”

The basket was large enough to hold dinner for ten. Amber’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. She fairly snatched the sandwich Kael offered out of his hand.

“How’d it go with Miss Plumepuff?” Kael asked. “You didn’t say earlier.”

“Terrible. Even after I explained that it was all Stunning Spells’ fault, she still persisted in saying we were no better. I had to offer to pay damages—that ate up a chunk of my sign-in bonus.”

“You should’ve just let Heartwood deal with that.”

“Are you kidding? If there’s an official complaint against me, it’d affect my performance raises in the future! I can’t have that!” Amber waved her half-eaten sandwich for emphasis.

Kael laughed. “You worry about the weirdest things, you know.”

“It’s weird to me that you don’t,” Amber muttered.

“I didn’t have much to do with money growing up.” Kael shrugged. “It’s not like I need it. I get food and shelter at Heartwood. What else would I need besides clothes and shoes once in a while?”

“I guess we just have different ideas about money,” said Amber. “It’s not like I need a lot of it. I just like to know I have enough, in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case something unexpected happens.” Maybe Kael’s happy-go-lucky attitude had worked so far for him, but Amber knew the importance of a rainy day fund. She could still remember the strain in her mother’s face as she counted coppas, always too few, never enough. Those days of scarcity were long gone, but Amber had learned her lesson.

“That’s fair.” Rune lights sparked on the shell-feathers in Kael’s hair. “Tell you what, though. I was responsible for most of the damages and you’re doing me a favor with the frost mouse, so I’ll cover them all.”

“You sure?” Amber was skeptical. Given his propensities, she suspected he’d had to pay out a lot in damages over the years.

“Of course.” Kael looked over to where the frost mouse lay sleeping in a nest made of his red scarf. “Hey, he’s waking up.”

Sure enough, the frost mouse stirred and sat up. Amber had to admit its normal form was cute. It had silvery fur, soft and cold to the touch, delicate snowflake ears, and appealing dark grey eyes. Its tail and claws were a crystalline white.

Kael coaxed the creature onto his hand and produced a brown seed-pod. He tapped seeds in front of the mouse, who took one in its front paws, sat up, and nibbled happily.

Amber raised her eyebrows. “Seeds from Miss Plumepuff’s precious hybrids?”

“I only took a few pods,” said Kael. “She has plenty left to grow her next set of flowers. She wanted to make improvements, anyhow. She didn’t quite like what her friend gave her.”

He placed the mouse gently on the ground and scattered the rest of the seeds around it. They sat in silence, while Amber and the mouse ate. When Amber silently offered Kael a sandwich or cupcake, he refused with a smile and small wave of his hand.

Huh. I thought he was always hungry.

They cleaned up the picnic things after Amber had had her fill. It was full dark now, and an owl hooted overhead. The frost mouse froze, whiskers twitching, then darted into the shadows under a nearby bush. Kael wrapped his scarf around his neck and picked up the basket. Amber was pretty sure the coat was his, but it was too warm to give up. She thrust her arms through the sleeves and followed him out of the clearing. The rune lights twinkled into non-existence behind them, but Kael found a stick, covered it in orange and yellow light, and held it up like a torch.

“I’m surprised you didn’t keep the frost mouse,” Amber commented finally. “You really like animals, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t keep one,” said Kael. “Pets are a big responsibility, and I’m gone a lot. I can’t always take an animal with me, and it’s not fair to leave one behind and ask other people take care of it—why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well,” Amber tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a smile. “Kael, Responsible Non-Pet Owner is not a side I’ve seen before. It’s kind of cute.”

They were both silent.

Amber thought, Uh-oh, here it comes.

Kael began, “So, you think I’m—”

“I said,” Amber jumped in, “that side of you is cute. Cute like a frost mouse. It’s a totally different thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I do not appreciate that skeptical tone, Kael.”

“What? I was just agreeing with you.”

“But—” Amber sighed. “Never mind. You’re hopeless.”

“And amazing.” Kael grinned. “And, apparently, cute.”

Amber just rolled her eyes.

Read Episode 1 of the new Cloud Village Arc.

Author’s Note: I’m having way too much fun with Amber and Kael’s interactions. I’m thinking about writing and posting Heartwood flashfic while I’m still working on the other book, so if there are characters you want to see more of (especially interactions between them), let me know! Thanks for sticking with me so far. 

Sun and Strands is here!

Get it now on Amazon.

I’ll be getting it up on other sites over the next few days. Right now I have a bit of a headache (boo) and I’m going to take it easy this evening.

Hope you enjoy it! I’ll be posting up an extra Heartwood story that picks up very soon after the e-book bonus story ends (hmm, does this make sense?) in April. I need to write it first, though.

Take care and stay healthy, everyone!

Chrysalis Arc, Episode 11

“Hey. Have you been waiting for me all this while?” Amber peered down the corridor. There was no one there. Silence and sleep hung heavy in this place.

“Seemed a shame you missed your own welcome feast. I brought you dessert.” He indicated the platter at his feet. “I didn’t know which kind you’d like so I brought you one of everything.”

Amber sat down cross-legged next to him. Her stomach rumbled. “Thanks!” The pies were a little oozy and the cake sagging and the cream melted, but it was her own fault, after all. “Isn’t that one of the demented monkey monsters you were fighting earlier? Why do you have one now?”

“Oh, most forest yuka aren’t so bad on their own. It’s when they’re in groups that you’d better watch out. Hunger seems to be a trigger, but I don’t think it’s too big a problem.

“Not around you, at any rate.” Amber eyed the sleeping creature’s distended belly and blissful expression. “I’m glad you found someone else to feed. Not that I mind getting dessert.” She lifted a forkful of white cake with raspberry filling.

“Well.” He stretched and stood, carefully transferring the sleeping yuka to his shoulder. Its tail hung down his back and its triangular ears twitched. “I thought you’d want to see the memory moth. Say good bye to it before it leaves.”

“Goodness, yes.” Amber inhaled a mouthful of cake, before laying aside her plate. She got to her feet, a little creakily. She’d been sitting down half the day.

“This way, then.”

The academy was all hushed silences, cobwebby shadows, and creaking floorboards. Magic spells lay buried in stone and wood. Kael kept up a rapid pace, all the way to the roof Amber had jumped off so long ago today.

The cool night air held a bite. Amber hunched her shoulders and hugged herself.

“Cold?” Kael made a languid gesture, sparking magic. A layer of warmth wrapped itself around Amber. She was fascinated to see his magical energy pouring into the pattern around her, turning it orange, knitting it into something like a sweater. Of course, he couldn’t see himself what his spellwork did to the pattern, but he was capable of delicate work, occasionally.

“Thanks,” said Amber.

“No problem.” Kael led her towards a stone shape on the balustrade. It was probably fashioned in the likeness of some fantastical creature, but Amber’s attention was caught by the large silver-winged moth that clung to it.

Greetings. Its mental voice was much stronger, a silken shiver across her skin.

“Hi.” Amber crouched so that she was eye level with it. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Thanks to the two of you. You have my gratitude.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad that… thing… didn’t get you.” She gave Kael a sideways look. “What was that shadow again?”

He grimaced. “Night crawlers. Nasty when they come together like that. They’re usually found deep in the forest. Why did they come after you like that?”

To Amber’s fascination, the moth gave a shrugging kind of twitch. Night crawlers are destroyers, not just of the body, but of the mind. Of love and hope and the bonds between creatures.

“Ah,” said Kael in an understanding kind of way. He squatted next to Amber. “You carry a memory to someone?”

Yes. One that means much to the receiver. It gave another shiver. I have slept overlong in the warmth and dark. I must be on my way.

“Of course. We won’t keep you,” said Kael. Amber nodded, though she was eaten up with curiosity inside.

But first… a small gift. The moth twitched its moon-slice wings, fluttered over to Amber. Up close to her face, it was huge. She closed her eyes, air stirred up by the moth’s wings cool against her cheek.

And then the moth did something. Amber felt it, something small yet strong, but she had no idea what. While she was still checking all around herself, it moved over to Kael. The boy stood still and braced, eyes open. Amber watched as his breath hitched, his shoulders tensed, and his eyes widened with surprise.

Then he was smiling. “Thanks, buddy. That was more than enough.”

But, what’s my gift? though Amber, privately and confusedly.

The moth fluttered up, in ever-widening circles. Kael sketched a wave in its direction, then hastily caught the sleeping yuka before it fell off his shoulder.

“I should return this little fellow to its home when I leave tomorrow morning,” he commented.

“You’re going away so soon?” Amber wished she could take back the words as soon as they came out. She realized she’d been counting on Kael to smooth her first few days at Heartwood. Without him, Lisette and Troi were the only other journeymen mages she knew.

At least, there’s still Ainsley.

“Yep,” he said cheerfully. “Don’t look so down, Blondie. I’ll be back soon.” He sauntered over to the door leading inside.

Amber spluttered, “Wha–? Wait, it isn’t as if… it isn’t what you think!”

“Early morning tomorrow. I’m off to bed.” Kael lifted a hand in farewell and was gone.

“Well,” said Amber out loud, putting her hands on her hips. “What about all those dishes in the corridor? Am I supposed to find the kitchen at this time of night?”

Frank.

Amber stiffened. She looked around, then up. The moth was a receding glow in the moonless night.

Frank, it said again. We kept it safe just like we promised. Look inside yourself.

Stunned, Amber obeyed.

And there was something different about her own pattern, that internal web that made her Amber. Something glimmered tiny and gold within it.

A key.

For when you’re ready to unlock it.

“Unlock what?” asked Amber, thoroughly spooked. It wasn’t—shouldn’t—be possible to reach inside her skin and change her pattern. That wasn’t how things worked!

You will know when it’s time. The memory moth’s voice grew fainter, more distant. Frank… we kept… faith…

A chill-edged wind swept across the lonely rooftop. It was gone.

Amber stood rooted in place.

The moth had spoken his name. Thrice, and Amber was frozen, as if the name was a spell to hold her in place.

She had not expected this. Why here? she thought. What does he have to do with my life now? After all this time?

The roof top was not forthcoming with any answers. Amber found she could move again, and so she left, to clean up the dessert dishes and find a soft bed.

Tomorrow she’d begin searching for answers.

The next arc begins! Read Whispering Winds, Episode 1 here. 

Author’s Note: This episode wraps up the Chrysalis Arc, though it turns out there are more mysteries to solves and questions to answer. I’ll be taking a few weeks’ break to think about the next story arc and also finish revisions on a book that’ll release this summer. For the next arc, expect: classes and life at Heartwood; Amber and Kael’s first mission; and some of Troi’s backstory. 

If you’re enjoying these episode and want to support this serialization, you can donate using the form below. Tips will not only fuel my writing sessions (tea and chocolate!), but also help with the expenses of turning The Heartwood Chronicles into an e-book series. 

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I love writing short and serial fiction to share with my readers. If you enjoyed this story and want to buy me dark chocolate with cinnamon-glazed pecans (my current favorite chocolate bar) to say thanks, here's how:

Chrysalis Arc, Episode 10

Many hours later, Ainsley stood in the doorway, surrounded by a cloud of paper birds. “Amber,” she said reproachfully, “you’re missing your welcome dinner.”

“Don’t bother me just yet,” said Amber, scribbling ferociously. “I’ve almost managed to talk him into giving me a sign-up bonus. This magic pen of yours works great!” She twirled it between her fingers as she waited. Her revisions hovered above the contract in blue swirls. If the Headmaster approved on his end, they’d turn black and sink into the paper. A counteroffer came through in green. Sticking points stayed stubbornly red until both parties agreed.

Maybe I should’ve been a lawyer instead. I am so enjoying this. Though negotiation via magical paper and ink was rather different.

“Aha!” The sign-up bonus clause turned black and sank into the paper with a sizzle.

“Now are you done?”

“Are you kidding?” The pen twirled even faster between Amber’s fingers. “There are still vacations, working conditions, and pay raises to talk about!”

 

“Your welcome dinner is over,” Ainsley informed her an hour later. “We had seventeen different kinds of dessert, by the way. In case you wanted to know. The whole school thanks you.”

“Oooh, he’s a tricksy one, he is,” murmured Amber. “Take job expenses out of my income, will you? We’ll see about that!” Blue and violet light flickered madly over the contract and her face.

“And now we’re going to have a singing contest. The rudest song about you wins.”

“Mmm, that’s nice.”

 

“I’m going to bed.” Ainsley wandered in, yawning, wearing flowered pajamas. “Here’s the key to the guest room.” She placed a large, brass key gently by Amber’s elbow. “It’ll guide you there. Fresh towels are in the bathroom. Watch out for the water-sprite. It likes to soak in the hot tub water.”

“Thanks, Ainsley.” Amber smiled distractedly. “You’ve been great!”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Ainsley took Amber’s untouched supper tray. “I’ll just drop this off in the kitchen. Good night!”

Amber punched the air. “YES! An extra 2% performance bonus is mine! Oh, what were you saying, Ainsley–? Oh, yes, good night!”

 

This is it. Down to the wire. The last few minutes before the signing. That’s when people get cocky or forget to pay attention. Amber forced herself to scan through every sheet of the contract, looking for any hints of red, green, or blue ink. Not even an unapproved comma was allowed to pass by her notice.

She read through the passages she’d reworked the heaviest several times over, then perused the parts where the unspoken negotiations had been at their most touch-and-go.

These were the best terms she could expect to get for her ability and experience. Regular training and steady work?

She could put up with a few annoying colleagues and some eccentricities for that.

I don’t have to go home now. I can stay here, in this wonderful place, and explore magic for the rest of my life.

She could never turn her back on the crackle and color of it. No mage worth the name would.

Here goes. Amber pressed her palm onto the paper. A slight coolness, a feathery tickle, and patterns changing. She was signing with the very core and essence of her, and her stomach tightened at the gravity of it. She lifted her palm, saw a mix of lines in gold.

My pattern, flattened and turned into a signature.

The contract burst into orange and yellow sparkles.

What the–?

A thin sheet of something clear and hard lay on the desk. The sparkles drifted, then rewrote themselves into lines of fire on the sheet.

Welcome to Heartwood, Amberlin Shelburne!

This is your personal cryst. Please activate with your palm print.

Amber gently put her hand over it. The crystal device beeped and hummed. She peered at the screen. Several boxes had appeared on it. TRAINING SCHEDULE, FINANCES, JOBS, REFERENCE MATERIAL. Amber touched the FINANCES button and was pleased to see a sign-in bonus already in her account.

This magic is really awesome. Only really rich people have these in Ravin—I can’t believe they hand these out to journeymen here!

Papa would be so jealous.

Look, and it folds up, too.

Grinning, Amber tucked it into an inner pocket of her jacket. She stood up, stretching stiff muscles.

Outside the room, the hallway was dim. Amber paused at the door, surprised at the sight of someone sitting against the wall opposite her.

Kael looked up from the monkey-like yuka he’d been petting. “Yo.”

Read Episode 11.

Author’s Note: Amber’s contract negotiations were a lot of fun to write–several years ago! This part is largely untouched from the first draft. I’ll be wrapping up the Chrysalis Arc next week, so keep an eye out for it!

I was asked in comments if I’d consider a Patreon for the Heartwood Chronicles. I’m not making any big changes to the serial right now, but I wanted readers’ input about the possibility. What do you think?

In the meantime, I’ll be putting up a periodic tip jar, if you’d like to support this project. Donations would go toward creating an ebook of the first 2-3 arcs and buying me a snack or a hot beverage at the coffee shop I work at while my daughter’s at the horse barn!

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Chrysalis Arc, Episode 11

Chrysalis Arc, Episode 10

Chrysalis Arc, Episode 9

Chrysalis Arc, Episode 8

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