Finally, at the end of the tunnel, a narrow staircase led upward. Above it stood a wooden door. Fenric set Axel down on the steps.

  “Wait here a bit,” he told the girls.

  Vierna and Lina nodded as Fenric climbed ahead. A dull thunk echoed through the tunnel, followed by a louder clatter as wood scraped against metal. It sounded like he was struggling with the latch.

  “Do you need help?” Vierna called out.

  “No, I’ve got it!” Fenric replied.

  A sharp crack followed, then silence.

  “Done. Now let’s go,” Fenric said. He went down the stairs and gently pick Axel up.

  “Damn that deer boy really is strong?”

  Now that Lina mention it, Fenric was indeed strong. He overcome the Hairon root tea, he fighted the many armed girl for a while, able to run away while being chased by a monster while carrying Lina, and was carrying Axel the whole time and he didn’t even panted. It made Vierna wondered, she knew that some part of her strength came from the experiment done to her, but Fenric was natural. If she was in Fenric’ position would she able to have such strength?

  The pair entered the door. It leads to a certain room, barely lit by the runic device again.

  “Another one of your mother’s divice?” Vierna asked.

  “Yes. She only put it on hidden rooms.”

  “Your house have hidden rooms?”

  “Yup. My mother was paranoid. When she arrived here, she constantly expanded the house. Yet she was smart. She mingled with the villager feigning friendship so they wont ask her too many question.

  Vierna took a slow step inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim, amber light cast by the runic device. The room was narrow, rectangular—perhaps once a storage chamber—its air thick with the earthy tang of dried herbs and iron. Dust motes drifted lazily in the faint glow, catching the light like drifting ash.

  Along the walls stood rows of shelves made from dark, uneven planks. Jars of varying sizes filled them—some clouded with age, others faintly glowing from what looked like powdered crystals or preserved roots suspended in resin. A few were neatly labeled in a looping hand, the ink long faded.

  The floor was rough stone, cool and uneven beneath their boots, and the air carried a faint, metallic chill that bit the nose. In one corner sat a low wooden table, its surface cluttered with scraps of parchment, broken glass vials, and a mortar stained deep green. The walls bore faint gouges—marks of tools or claws, she couldn’t tell—and between them hung strips of linen that fluttered slightly in the passing draft.

  There were no windows, only the one concealed entrance beneath the worn rug. The space felt both hidden and preserved, like a relic of someone’s obsession.

  Fenric then went forward. He pulled a book on one of the book shelves. Then a hatch latched and a door opened. Leading into some place dark.

  “Its my house. Outside this place is usually lit by lantern, so its why its dark. Follow me closely.”

  With the dim lantern in Lina’s hand, they followed Fenric closely. The air inside felt warmer now, almost gentle compared to the raging storm outside. The thatched roof, though simple, kept the rain from seeping through. Fenric lit a lantern in each room they passed—ordinary ones this time, not the glowing devices hidden in his mother’s secret chambers.

  “Fenric, do you have a bed in any of your secret rooms?” Vierna asked.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just think we should keep Axel hidden for a while—let him recover in peace. If anyone finds him, it’ll be hard to explain.”

  Fenric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Alright, this way.”

  He led them through a narrow corridor toward the back of the house, where the air grew colder and the scent of damp earth replaced that of smoke and oil. After a few turns, he stopped before what looked like a solid wall. He ran his fingers along the edges until a faint click sounded, and part of the wall shifted inward.

  Beyond it lay a broad chamber, larger than Vierna expected. The lantern light stretched far, catching the outlines of old workbenches pushed against the walls, their surfaces buried under dust. Rusted tools and broken glass littered the corners, and faint traces of chalk markings still clung to the stone floor—circles, runes, and strange symbols half-faded by time.

  Despite its size, the room felt closed off, secretive. The air was cold and unmoving, thick with the scent of metal and old soil. It was clear that no one had worked here in years. The walls were bare stone, the floor nothing more than packed dirt, but the silence that filled it carried weight—as if the space itself remembered every experiment, every whisper once held within its confines.

  “This used to be my mum’s old workshop,” Fenric said as he gently laid Axel on the ground. “I’ll go and fetch a bedroll.”

  “Ah, and if you can,” Lina added, her voice soft but firm, “bring some firewood too. His body’s freezing. He could use the warmth. I’ll also need it to prepare the cure for the Hairon root. Vierna, go help him.”

  “But—”

  “It’s okay,” Lina interrupted. “Put me down here. I’ll be fine.”

  Vierna didn’t argue. She set Lina carefully on the dirt floor, making sure she had the lantern beside her before following Fenric out of the room.

  They made their way through the narrow corridor again, the faint light from the lantern throwing long, wavering shadows across the walls. The wind outside howled, pressing faint rattles through the wooden beams above.

  In the main room, Fenric gathered what supplies he could—an old bedroll, a few thick blankets, and a bundle of firewood stored under a table. Vierna helped him carry them, her hands brushing cold metal tools and loose jars as they passed.

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  “Fenric…”

  “Yes?”

  “About Loran’del… are you still going to report me?”

  Fenric didn’t answer immediately. He handed Vierna another bundle to carry, then paused and looked up at the ceiling, as if weighing his thoughts.

  “No,” he said at last. “I don’t think I will.”

  Hearing that, Vierna felt her chest lighten a little, as though the noose around her neck had loosened. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder—why? Back then he hadn’t seemed convinced. Even she hadn’t been convinced by her own reasoning.

  “I’m glad… but why? Do you trust me now?”

  “What you said before, about Rolbart being complicit—it was true, no matter how I tried to twist it in my head,” Fenric said, his voice low but steady. “And as for Loran’del being in league with Yvlaine, I’m not sure I buy that entirely. But knowing him, if he hadn’t thrown you out, he’d have spent months chasing confirmation—trying to prove you really were a Reich agent. Letters from the baron, the count, even the duke. That’s just how he is.” He gave a small, rueful chuckle. “Funny thing is, the more I think about it, the more I reckon telling him about you lot wasn’t the wisest move.”

  He glanced at her briefly, then continued, “As for trusting you, well I do know you weren’t lying when you said you’d try to save this place. And I’ll go with that for now.”

  “That’s all I’m asking, Fenric,” Vierna said with a faint smile. “It’s funny—now that you know my secret, it almost feels like we’re more like friends.”

  Fenric smiled back, a hint of weariness in his eyes. “Aye, maybe so. Come on then—let’s talk about what we know of Yvlaine so far. Perhaps something’ll spark an idea.”

  They retraced their steps through the dim corridor, the muffled hum of the storm faint above them. When they returned to the workshop, Lina was already waiting near the wall, the lantern’s glow resting across her face. She looked worn but alert, one hand steady on the light. Axel lay beside her, still and pale, his breathing soft against the low crackle of the air.

  Fenric set down the supplies and got to work without a word. He unrolled a strip of linen on the ground to keep the cold dirt from leeching Axel’s warmth. Then he spread the bedroll over it, pressing down the corners so it wouldn’t fold in on itself. Together with Vierna, they lifted the boy carefully—Fenric holding him under the shoulders, Vierna supporting his legs—and laid him down. She could feel how cold his skin was, even through the fabric.

  Fenric pulled a heavy blanket from the bundle and spread it over Axel, tucking the edges beneath his arms and along his sides to trap the warmth.

  “That should do for now,” Fenric murmured.

  Since the room had once been a workshop, there was no sign it had ever held a hearth. The floor was plain dirt, scattered with bits of stone and dust. So they made one themselves—right in the middle of the room, far enough from where Fenric had laid out the bedroll. He dug a shallow pit with his knife while Vierna gathered loose stones to circle it, making sure the heat wouldn’t spread. They placed the firewood and linen scraps inside, and with a few strikes of Fenric’s flint, the flame caught.

  The faint crackle of flame filled the silence, and soon the first wave of warmth spread through the cold air. Shadows shifted across the walls, breathing life back into the abandoned room.

  They placed their hand in front of the fire, feeling warmth allowing their blood to flow again. Vierna added some more wood. Not long after the room was filled with warmth.

  “I want to cook some soup. You two want some?” Fenric asked.

  Vierna hadn’t realized how hungry she was; the worry for Lina had left her running on nerves alone.

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  Fenric rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at the supplies. “I don’t have any meat left—don’t eat it myself, to be honest. So it’s just vegetables. Hope that’s enough for you two.”

  “It’ll do,” Lina said with a grin. “I’m so hungry I could eat a deer.” She looked at him and licked her lips, trying to sound playful.

  “Oi, I’m not food, alright? Don’t look at me like that,” Fenric laughed.

  “Let me help Fenric.” Vierna said.

  “No you sat here, you look like about to faint and you earn your rest.”

  Vierna nodded. Her body truly felt like it was about to collapse from exhaustion and the weight pressing on her mind. She leaned against the wall beside Lina, resting her head on Lina’s shoulder.

  He gave them both a small smile, then turned and stepped toward the door, the sound of the storm faint beyond the walls.

  “Hey, Vierna…”

  “Hey, Lin.”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “A bit of this and that,” Vierna said, staring into the small fire. “Mostly about Moony. What she’s doing now… if she’s even still alive.”

  Lina stayed quiet. Saying everything would be fine felt dishonest when she didn’t know herself. It was better to admit silence than offer false comfort.

  “Oh—Vierna! That boy!”

  “What about him?”

  “Look at his face.”

  Vierna leaned closer to Axel. Though his skin was still marked with dark veins, faint patches of white were beginning to show. But what caught her attention most was the mark beneath his eyes—it looked almost identical to her own.

  “Wait… is it possible he’s a Kagemori?”

  “Yes! I mean he slipped about being able to use natural mana. And back then he was so stubborn to get away from me despite his condition. Suddenly he was like talking with the air and his attitude completely changes. Also his magic stayed in place even when he fainted.”

  Vierna’s face lighten up a bit. If this boy was indeed a Kagemori, maybe she could ask for his help with Moony. She just hoped that the boy would be cooperative later on.

  “Is that why you tried so hard to save him?”

  “Hehe… well, I did feel a bit sorry for him,” Lina said, scratching her head. “But honestly, he’s a pain in the arse. I just hope he turns out useful after all the trouble we went through to save him.”

  “Maybe he’ll know what to do about Moony—if she’s still inside me.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Vier. I know it looks bleak, but until we’re sure, there’s no point giving up.”

  Vierna smiled faintly. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

  “Okay then, it seems a bit of my mana has returned,” Lina said as she opened her storage rune. From it, she pulled a book, her mortar and pestle along with some herbs. Among it was the Fengworth flower—the same one she had nearly died trying to gather. “This damned flower almost killed me. I just hope it can ease your pain, even a little.”

  “What do you mean?” Vierna asked.

  “Well, Loran’del mentioned this flower when he tried to corner me into taking the cure for your condition. I didn’t accept it because getting it from him would’ve meant admitting the tea had hurt you. But when I checked Aila’s journal, it didn’t even mention Hairon root poisoning at all. The flower was listed for another illness entirely—but some of the symptoms matched yours, the pain you feel when using mana. I just… hope it can help Moony, if not cure her outright.”

  “Lina… I’m sorry, but what you did was reckless. What if it doesn’t work?”

  “I know, Vierna… I’m sorry too. But I just couldn’t sit still, watching you suffer like that. I had to try.”

  Lina’s voice trembled slightly, and that made Vierna’s chest tighten. The guilt crept in like a slow burn—she hated herself for scolding her. Lina had risked everything for her, not out of duty but out of care, and instead of gratitude, she had met it with doubt. She glanced at Lina’s hands, still faintly trembling from exhaustion, and felt the weight of her own words pressing down heavier than any wound.

  “Sorry, Lin… you did it because you care for me.”

  “No, you were right. I should’ve talked it through with you first.” Lina smiled faintly. “Hehe, in the end, I’m just some silly girl without any foresight, huh?”

  “No! Lina, please don’t say that about yourself.”

  “Hehe, I don’t mean it as self-pity, Vierna. It just means I’ve got something to work on. We can’t afford mistakes like this during Glascnacht.”

  Lina turned her face toward her. “Vierna… I don’t need sugarcoating. When I mess up, tell me straight. I want to improve, not be flattered. So what you said earlier—you were right. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

  Vierna hadn’t realized how much Lina had matured. She had still been underestimating her.

  “Okay then. Let’s hope it works,” Lina said as she read through the journal. The lighting was terrible, and she had to squint to make out the words. “The journal says I need to boil this along with a few of the other herbs I’ve got. It’s a good thing that Aila made me check those crates you brought from the Agent’s camp.”

  Lina began reading the journal while sorting through the ingredients. Vierna leaned back against the wall. Despite everything, her knowledge of herbs was mostly from books—never from practice. She wanted to help but feared getting in Lina’s way, so she stayed quiet, watching, and hoping that whatever Lina made would help her in some way.