THE SCOUTING TOWER STOOD above Aven Naeris, its dark wooden planks supporting the base. Out of seven exits in Airedale City, the capital of Unaviel Kingdom, only one registered as true freedom from the city — the Western District, which lead directly through a small setting of farm houses and a tavern. This was that very exit. And now was Aven’s lunch break.

Aven was a simple teenage half-elf, full of bright ideas and crazy inventions. Yet, they were unable to truly show off their skills as a blacksmith thanks to Valk Hangoval, the owner of the Iron Gauntlet in Airedale City.

Airedale was a bustling city, full of dwarves, humans, and the like. But elves and dragonborn were uncommon, seen as nothing but unwanted filth. When elves wandered into the city, they were merely looking for a place to rest up before leaving again. Aven was used to it, what with everyone’s dislike for elves siding with the dragonborn when they attacked the royal family of the Xovaria Kingdom.

Aven had to keep their head down lest they drew the city folk’s attention toward them. Brick houses lined the lower streets with simple, wooden buildings for shops and bakeries. A church dedicated to Eternis, the god of life, was in the city square, its bells ringing at the top of every hour of the day. The city was a bright place, full of happiness and laughter. No, it could never hide dark secrets behind closed doors.

Sitting on a bench outside the towers, Aven held a leather satchel and rummaged through it. They weren’t looking for anything specific. Just a little snack. Finally, they found an apple and pulled it from the bag. Aven took a bite of it as their gaze crossed over to the front gates. The guards stood vigil, watching for any signs of danger, despite the onset of boredom taking hold. Off in the distance, a horse-drawn cart was pressing closer.

Aven watched in silence as the cart came up to the gates and the guards held their spears out. The driver of the cart sat straight, adjusting their cap over his sandy hair.

“Halt!” one guard said. He took a step forward, the sun glinting on the black armor. “State your business for entering Airedale.”

The driver looked to the guard and smiled, revealing a chipped front tooth. “I’m here to sell my wares. I’m sure you have an opening in the marketplace?”

Aven tilted their head. Random guild merchants rarely came through unless they carried hefty valuables, which this owner didn’t seem to have.

The guard held out his hand. “Let me see your papers.”

“Oh, right here,” the merchant said.

Reaching down, he grabbed a small book and opened it. The guard looked at the book, turned to the other guard, and nodded.

“I’ve got a bunch of animal furs and grains in the back, if you wish to see them.” Swiftly putting the book down, the merchant dusted his hands on his worn trousers.

Just outside the capital was a small village built for farming and hunting. A few times a year, someone would come up from there, offering to sell furs, wheat, vegetables, or whatever else they had leftover from the latest season. It seemed a bit too early in the summer for a villager needing to sell.

Aven watched the cart enter the city with the guards returning back to their positions. The cart shambled along, drawing a few looks from those out and about. Aven stood up, wanting to follow the cart. The driver was different. They couldn’t trust them. Not when summer had barely begun and the harvests were still growing. Aven had to be cautious. Assassins could be lurking in the back of cart.

They brushed their silver hair out of their green right eye, the other being a dull gray from an incident that blinded them years ago. About six years ago, Aven awoke in the middle of the night feeling at unease. Something drew them to Farlet Woods, south of the city. Because of their stupidity, they got their parents killed…by their brother. Aven was only ten years old.

The cart pulled to a stop outside an alleyway. The cloth covering the back pulled away and a young woman hopped out, a black cowl pulled over her head. She waved at the driver and said something before slipping into the alleyway.

Strange.

Aven walked over to the alleyway, looking at the cart as it drove off. Then, they looked toward the woman, who turned a corner. She traveled until she was met with a dead end. Grumbling, she spun around, a brown leather book in one hand and a pendant with a silver eye. She read the passage of the book again.

“No, not this way. Which way are you taking me?” she asked.

She looked up and began walking toward the back of a building. Placing a hand on the smooth wood, she chanted slowly in an unfamiliar language, and the air turned frigid. Aven’s eyes widened at the sight. Swirls of white and gray intermixed as frost seeped from the wall. The woman stepped back and pulled down her cowl to reveal she was barely of age. Sandy locks fell around her face and blended perfectly with her parchment-colored skin. She wore dark, heavy makeup that tried to hide the tiredness in her pasture green eyes.

She smiled at the frost.

The ground trembled as a massive silver claw poked out of the wall, right where the glowing magick was. An entire reptilian hand followed it until the snout of a lizard appeared. It puffed, sending a stream of frost particles everywhere.

Aven’s jaw fell slack. They had heard stories of such creatures like this, ranging from up north, across the border into Xodraylia, the land of dragonkin.

“Sanar, this will take longer than predicted. I was hoping to be back at camp by sundown, but locating will take some time,” the woman said.

The dragon snorted again. It lowered its head pressing its snout against the top of the woman’s head. The woman smiled in response, a small chuckle leaving her lips.

Aven couldn’t believe their eyes. A dragon in the middle of Airedale? They reached down to their hip, brushing their fingers over a hidden dagger stashed inside their tunic. They wouldn’t be able to fight with only a dagger… Dragons were dangerous, unkempt beasts. If Aven didn’t report the sighting, they would be a traitor… But would the guards believe them? They shook their head. Nobody would trust the mouth of an elf, let alone an elven half-breed.

They let go the dagger and turned back toward the main street. A single choice was all that stood between them and the destruction of their city. They easily knew that the guards wouldn’t trust their word. But maybe their boss would? Valk, a quiet and nurturing infernalite, always listened to them rant about something. They were the reason Valk had been awarded for alerting the Crop Master to the Silver Jaded Beetle Infestation of 434 Era of Eternal.

Quietly as they could, they snuck through the alleyways until they came to the main street. Their eyes scanned for any guards. When the coast was clear, Aven readjusted their satchel and headed right down the street until the anvil sign for the Iron Gauntlet came into view. A grin plastered itself on Aven’s face. They were home.

Opening the door to the blacksmith shop, Aven spotted the familiar rows upon rows of swords, shields, crossbows, along with various other weapons and armor. Valk stood behind a counter, a book in hand and a quill in the other. He glanced at Aven with a warm smile. His sepia skin glowed under the torch lamps hung on the ceiling, while the lava-fire crackles decorating his skin from his heritage pulsed eerily, casting a shadow across his face. A pair of violaceous horns curved out of his forehead and slanted backwards, swooping in the same direction as his short, umber locks.

“Back so soon?”

Aven shrugged. “It was mostly boring until a fur and grain trader showed up.”

Walking to the counter, Aven pulled the strap of their satchel over their head and set it down. “I have an urgent question…”

Valk arched a thick eyebrow. He towered over Aven, half his frame built like an oxen, resembling that infernal bloodline. Aven had yet to ask him what bloodline he descended from, afraid of coming off as vulgar and stereotypical. “Ask your question, son.”

“Would you believe me if I said I saw an elf down the street summon a dragon in an alleyway?”

A chuckle left Valk. He set the book down and brought his hand up to his mouth to stifle the laughter. Aven glared with a pout.

“Sorry,” Valk said. From his shoulders continuing to shake, Aven knew he wasn’t sorry. “A dragon in Airedale? Elves come and go, even if they are ridiculed and children throw rocks at them. But a dragon would be sensed by the Optimized Draconic Tester installed. King Dario saw to it that no dragon would come within a hundred miles of Airedale without the Optimized Draconic Tester going off. Remember?”

Aven shrugged. “But has the device ever been checked out in the last four years? We haven’t even seen a dragon in six years…since my parents died.”

Inclining his head, Valk stared at the book, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry kid. I didn’t mean to bring up such memories. It’s just that the idea of seeing a dragon is out of this realm. Dragons stay on their side of the border to avoid drawing a war to them.”

“I know, I know. Maybe I saw the elf, but the idea of her using magick to summon a dragon doesn’t seem right. Elves can’t be allied with dragons, right?”

Valk shrugged. He closed the book and looked at Aven. “Perhaps we can take the time to ask this elf what they are doing?”

Aven shook their head. They wanted to forget so much about the encounter. Yet, something tugged at their conscious urge to know and use magick. That girl had been the first person to use magick in Airedale in a long time, and Aven wanted to learn from her, or perhaps steal a few books or scrolls from her. Whatever the case, Aven was going to know magick. He could no longer be helpless if people needed him.

The people of Airedale tended to see magick as evil due to the unholy nature of Runis, the god of magick and son of Eternis and Sundro. Magick was unpredictable, especially in its wild form. Aven knew how dangerous magick could be first hand. The night their parents died, they faced a green poisonous fog that seeped through the cracks of their home. If Aven had not called upon their magick, they would not have survived.

Their magick erupted out of control, surging until an ice storm centered itself upon Aven, streams of frozen ice and hail trickling out toward the open fields surround their home. By the time the storm had calmed down, Aven exited their home to find their parents dead and their brother missing with the ground completely frozen over in thick sheets of ice. From then on, Aven refused to use their magick unless the circumstances called for it.

Aven opened their satchel and pulled out a thick, black leather book. The edges of it appeared tattered, worn with age as an ancient text was scribbled across the front.

“My mom always made me carry this book with me, in case something bad happened. Recently, I have been feeling drawn to it. This elf could help me understand why,” Aven said. They sighed. Was it too much to hope and dream for a glimpse of magick?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Valk answered. “Now, get back to work.”

Aven tucked the book back into their satchel and walked around the counter. They entered a small back room with a separate door leading to the forge. Hooks for coats and bags lined the walls. Aven walked over to it and slung the strap of their bag onto one of the hooks before grabbing a blacksmith apron. Whenever Aven was made to work, they often got pushed into the forge, where people rarely got to see them. It made their job easier, with less people complaining about a half-elf creating their weapons or armor.

The heat from the forge pulsed through the doorway when Aven reached it. They creaked the door open to spot the forge glowing bright. A workbench sat far off to the right with a collection of tools laid out. A beautiful array of swords and shields were laid out to cool upon a table while a set of molding trays were stacked near the wall. Aven walked toward the forge, grabbing a pair of leather gloves and pulled them on. Before they had a chance to reach for a set of silver metal, the creak of the shop’s front door echoed with the chime of a bell.

Aven shook his head. Had a customer already come through? But they were sure that Valk was going to take a lunch break. Heading back to the door leading into the shop, Aven peered out. Standing in the doorway, holding a leather book in hand, was the girl from the alleyway. Aven’s eyes widened. They couldn’t believe the girl was at the door. She brushed her sandy hair out of her eyes and smiled as she looked around the shop.

She muttered something to herself as she began to look over the weapons stacked against the left wall. She paused, flipping a page in the book. Her smile faltered as she continued to look, replaced with a frustrated frown. The girl walked to the counter and closed the book, setting it down.

“Sir, may I take a look at your magickal weapons?” she asked.

Valk shrugged. “What kind of weapon are you looking for? Bows? Daggers? Swords?”

“Anything with magick.”

With another shrug, Valk reached under the counter and pulled out a ledger with detailed notes on all the weapons designed. For a moment, Aven was curious what her deal with magick was. Then, they noticed it — a faint glow of ice blue magick emitted from the girl’s book and linked to her hand, traveling down and draping across the floor like a thin mist. Aven stepped forward, pushing out of the room. Valk looked over his shoulder.

“Aven, get back to work.”

The girl raised her eyes and met with Aven’s spring green and gray heterochromia eyes. She tilted her head, watching them as they came over to Valk.

“Can I talk to you?” Aven whispered.

Valk sighed. He picked up the book and looked at the girl. “I’ll be right back.”

Aven led Valk into the break room and ran a hand through their hair. Valk closed the door behind him.

“What is it, Aven?”

“That girl… She’s using magick. I don’t know how, but I can see faint traces of it.”

“Are you certain?” Valk asked, eyebrows narrowing.

“It’s light blue, trailing along the floor and somehow wrapped around her wrist and that book she has. If she wants a magickal weapon, it makes me nervous… And it doesn’t help that she’s the elf I saw in the alleyway.” Aven folded their arms over their chest. They knew that Valk didn’t have to believe them, but it would feel nice to not have a friend mistrust them. Friends and allies were hard to come by. Valk was the only one Aven found that didn’t turn them in right away.

“Kid, you have to be careful with your analysis. Seeing magick means you have an affinity for it. The king would have your head if he learned of your abilities,” Valk warned. “That being said, I won’t let her buy any magickal items. Besides, we don’t make any here.”

Aven sighed. What a relief. They didn’t have to worry about danger lurking over their shoulder for this one. And Valk was right. Magickal weapons weren’t crafted here. At least, not to anything Aven could understand. They didn’t use their magick ever since Father died that horrible night.

“Can we deny her service or something?” Aven asked.

Valk glanced down at the ledger, concern crossing his features. “Perhaps. But I have an idea. Are you willing to follow my lead?”

Aven nodded. Anything to keep the guards off their back.