"How?" Adom stared at the glowing blue bottle in Cass's hand, the question hanging in the air between them.

Cass's lips curved into a satisfied smile, her usual composed demeanor giving way to barely contained excitement. "I went to the Register of Guilds today to check on our application status. While I was there, a handyman from the Lightbringers arrived with the letter." She pulled out an envelope from her inner pocket, the silver wax seal of the Lightbringers still intact. "Official sponsorship confirmation."

"That's fast," Adom said, brow furrowing. "Like, really fast. The Lightbringers were supposed to have received our proposal just today. And they've already approved and sent an answer?"

Cass nodded, her eyes bright. "The handyman came with a griffin."

"Ah." Adom's confusion cleared. Griffin-mounted messengers could cover distances in hours that would take normal carriers days. "That explains it."

Sam looked between them, then broke into a wide grin. "So it's official? The Wangara Guild is actually happening?"

"It is," Cass confirmed, her voice steady despite the subtle vibration of excitement in her shoulders. Adom had never seen her quite like this—controlled as always, but with an undercurrent of genuine elation that transformed her usually serious face.

"This calls for a proper celebration," Sam declared, clapping Adom on the back. "We were just heading to Old Mari's for meat pies. You should join us."

"Mari's?" Cass raised an eyebrow, tucking the precious letter back into her pocket. "Are the pies really worth celebrating with?"

"The best in the city," Sam and Adom said in perfect unison, then glanced at each other in surprise.

*****

"Must be nice," Adom muttered, dragging himself out of bed.

The day that followed was relentlessly ordinary.

Advanced Alchemy with Professor Mirwen, where they extracted essence from a particularly stubborn moonflower. Bonding Practicum with Zuni. Dueling Tactics with Professor Gavin, who made the entire class run laps because someone had drawn a rather unflattering caricature of him on the classroom door.

Lunch came and went. So did History of Magical Theory and Practical Applications of Fluid Enhancement.

By the time Krozball practice rolled around, Adom's mind was already elsewhere. Coach Viriam noticed, making him run extra drills until his legs felt like they might detach themselves in protest.

[White Wyrm's Body has leveled up!]

[Iron Lungs has leveled up!]

Damus remained consistently aloof throughout practice, acknowledging Adom only when absolutely necessary for plays.

When practice finally ended, Adom dragged himself to the showers, letting the hot water wash away the day's accumulated sweat and tension.

Back in the changing room, he found Sam waiting, idly flipping through a worn copy of "Advanced Constructs for the Modern Mage."

"Thought you'd be halfway to Old Mari's by now," Adom said, toweling his hair dry.

"And miss the opportunity to tell you how much your last pass looked like a dying fish trying to flop upstream? Never."

Adom snorted. "Viriam's words, not yours."

"Great minds," Sam shrugged, closing his book. "Anyway, I was thinking we could grab food in the west quarter tonight. There's this new place that supposedly serves—"

"Actually," Adom interrupted, reaching up to his shoulder where Zuni was perched, "I need to meet Cass. Guild business."

"Of course there is," Sam sighed. "Just when I thought we could celebrate your miraculous Krozball transformation."

Adom gently lifted Zuni from his shoulder, the small quillick chirping in protest. "I need you to look after Zuni for me."

"Absolutely not."

"Sam—"

"No. No way." Sam backed up a step. "That little demon tried to eat my socks. While I was wearing them."

"He was being playful."

"He chirps at me when I sleep."

"He's a quillick. They communicate through chirping."

"He left droppings in my shoes."

"Okay, that one was probably intentional," Adom admitted. "But look, I can't bring him with me to this meeting, and I can't leave him alone in the room again. Last time he chewed through my potions bag."

Sam crossed his arms, glaring at Zuni as if he were a personal nemesis rather than a squirrel-sized, expressive creature with an inconvenient tendency toward destruction.

"Please," Adom added. "I'll buy you those fancy pastries you like."

"Two boxes."

"One box, and I'll help you with your Transmutation essay."

"You're literally rich."

"It's not about the money. Plus, too much sugar is bad for you."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Fine, old man. But if he ruins anything else, you're replacing it."

"Fair enough." Adom held Zuni up at eye level. "Behave for Sam, understood?"

Zuni chirped, his bright, inquisitive eyes blinking rapidly in what could have been agreement or a declaration of war.

"He's actually been better lately," Adom said, trying to hand the quillick over. "And I think he's always liked you."

"You call hiding my quills and replacing them with twigs 'liking me'?"

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Don't be dramatic. He adores you. He just needs attention sometimes, and I've been busy." Adom finally managed to transfer Zuni to Sam's unwilling hands. "Feed him those nuts in the blue container. Not the ones with sugar. Sugar makes him... excitable."

"Excitable how?"

"You remember that chandelier in the east hall?"

"The one that mysteriously fell last week?"

"Not so mysterious."

Sam's eyes widened. "You said that was a failed levitation experiment!"

"It was. Just not mine." Adom clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Thanks for this. Really."

"I'm beginning to think our friendship is very one-sided," Sam grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. He'd already started scratching behind Zuni's ears with reluctant curiosity. "What's this little pouch attached to his collar?"

"Calming herbs. Found the recipe in an old quillick biology manual. Keeps him from getting too... Zuni."

"You really don't want him around all the time, do you?"

Adom paused, considering. "It's not that. I just need a break sometimes. Having a pre-familiar bond is exhausting. We're still figuring each other out."

"I thought potential familiars were supposed to be, you know, cooperative during bonding."

"In theory. In practice, Zuni is more like an adopted child testing boundaries."

Sam laughed, carefully cradling the now-chirping Zuni. "Fine, go have your secret guild meeting. But if he turns my room into a disaster zone, I'm bringing him to your fancy new guild hall and releasing him among all your important papers."

"Noted."

Adom finished gathering his things, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed for the door.

Now to find Cass.

*****

Adom found the warehouse easily enough. It sat on the eastern edge of the merchant district, a squat, brick building with a sloped roof and windows that needed cleaning. A crude sign had been nailed next to the double doors: "PROPERTY OF THE WANGARA GUILD (PENDING)."

He tried the door. Unlocked.

Inside, sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air. The space was cavernous and mostly empty, save for some construction materials, a few workbenches, and scattered tools. At the far end, seated on an upturned crate with her back to the door, was Cass.

She was hunched over something—papers, probably—and hadn't heard him enter. Adom crossed the concrete floor quietly, his footsteps barely echoing in the vast space.

"Planning world domination already?" he said when he was a few feet behind her.

Cass didn't jump or startle. She simply turned, a half-smile on her face. "Oh, it's you. Hello, Adom."

He dropped his bag beside her. "So this is it? Our grand headquarters?"

"What do you think?" Her eyes tracked his as he surveyed the space.

The warehouse was larger than it had appeared from outside—much larger. Adom felt the subtle pull of spatial magic as he stepped through the doorway, the interior dimensions stretching beyond what should have been possible within the building's exterior footprint.

Wooden beams crisscrossed overhead, extending farther than they had any right to. One wall was partially demolished, revealing the framework of what would become new rooms. A makeshift platform had been constructed near the back—the beginnings of a second floor.

"It's..." Adom searched for the right word, "...perfect."

Cass's smile widened. "Isn't it? The merchant district. Our own place." She swept her arm in a wide arc. "The front will be the public space—consultations, minor enchantments, research requests. The back will be our workshop. And upstairs? Private quarters for guild officers."

"You've been busy." Adom ran his fingers along a nearby support beam, feeling the faint hum of the space-warping enchantments. "I could reinforce the spatial extensions with some runic work. Maybe add a few concealment fields for storage. Some security wards." His mind was already racing with possibilities. "We could even create spaces that only appear under certain conditions."

"Someone's excited," Cass said with a smirk.

"We've been at it since dawn. The workers just left for the day." She stood, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "A warehouse in the merchant district. For a guild of my own." Her voice softened. "Father would have been proud."

Adom studied her face. Cass rarely mentioned her father. Even rarer was this naked vulnerability. But something else seemed off. Her shoulders were too tense. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Actually..." She sighed, looking toward the door as if expecting someone to burst through it. "We had visitors earlier."

"Visitors?"

"The 50th seat. Crimson Scale guild."

Adom felt his stomach tighten. "What did they want?"

"What do they always want? To swallow anything smaller." Cass leaned against a workbench. "They sent someone named Tresh. The guildmaster herself. With two of her lackeys."

"The guildmaster came personally?"

"Backed by House Vrentel, of course." Cass's voice hardened. "Seems our list of sponsors caught their attention."

"What did they say?"

"Oh, the usual pretty words. How impressed they were by our initiative. How we could rise faster under their mentorship. How joining forces would benefit everyone." She picked up a nail from the table and began rolling it between her fingers. "They said they could double our funding."

"And what did you tell them?"

"I refused, of course." The nail bent between her fingers. "Politely, at first."

Adom watched her carefully. "That didn't go well, did it?"

"No," Cass said, tossing the bent nail aside. "It did not."

Adom frowned, leaning against a half-constructed workbench. "What exactly did they say? After you refused?"

"They weren't explicit." Cass picked up another nail, this one thicker. It didn't bend as easily in her fingers. "But the message was clear enough. Cooperate, or we become a problem."

"Subtle."

"About as subtle as a falling brick." She set the nail down and crossed her arms. "As you know, there are only fifty seats available in the House of Merchants. The Crimson Scale holds the fiftieth."

Adom nodded.

"We've fulfilled all the eligibility requirements," Cass continued. "And with the Lightbringers backing us among others, we have a strong case for admission. The committee votes next month."

"And the fiftieth seat is always the most vulnerable," Adom said, understanding dawning. "They're panicking."

"Wouldn't you? The Crimson Scale has been hanging onto that seat by their fingernails for two years. Their membership is declining, their profits are down, and rumor has it, they've lost three major contracts in the last quarter." A smile ghosted across Cass's face. "They're desperate."

"So they figured they'd absorb us before we could replace them."

"Exactly. Take our sponsors, our momentum, and our potential. Leave us with table scraps and subordinate positions." Her eyes narrowed. "Tresh actually had the nerve to suggest we'd be better off under their control. As if everything we've built was just a bargaining chip for them to use."

Adom was quiet for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle.

"What's so funny?" Cass asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Nothing's funny. I'm just not surprised." He pushed off from the workbench and began pacing. "Did you really expect this to be easy? That we'd just walk in, claim a seat, and everyone would politely applaud?"

"Of course not."

"Good. Because I sure didn't." Adom stopped and faced her. "We need to be aggressive from the start. Get our products to market as soon as possible."

"The communication crystals?"

"And the rest." He gestured around the warehouse. "We need to show everyone exactly why we deserve that seat. Make it so obvious that the committee has no choice."

Cass frowned. "And what about these guys? Crimson Scale?"

"What about them?"

"They weren't making idle threats, Adom." She lowered her voice. "I don't think they'd touch you—not with your family connections. But me?" She gave a half-shrug. "I've got a smart mouth and mediocre combat skills. Not exactly prepared to handle a six-foot enforcer showing up at my door."

Adom stopped his pacing. "I'll give you a transport crystal. You should move somewhere safer for now. I know a good place."

"And leave all this?" She gestured at the warehouse.

"We're not leaving anything. Just making sure you're safer and sort things out."

"Sort things out how exactly?"

"They won't move against us directly," Adom said, resuming his pacing. "Not with House Sylla's backing and our other sponsors. But they'll be underhanded about it. Probably try to sabotage our first deliveries, spread rumors about quality, that sort of thing."

"So we just—"

A faint whistling sound cut through the air.

Adom's head snapped toward the high windows. His body reacted before his mind fully processed what was happening—something small and dark hurtling through one of the dusty panes, sending glass fragments scattering across the floor.

"Down!" he shouted, already weaving a barrier spell with his hands. Blue light flared between his palms.

Cass was moving too—diving behind a stack of lumber—but too slowly.

The projectile hit the floor between them, bouncing once with a metallic clank.

Not a rock. Not an arrow.

A smooth, rune-carved orb.

Time seemed to stretch. Adom saw the small device begin to glow, the inscribed symbols pulsing with increasing intensity. He completed the barrier around himself and Cass, the blue shield snapping into place just as he lunged toward her.

Too late.

The orb erupted with a blinding flash and a deafening boom that shook the wooden beams overhead. Adom felt the concussive wave slam against his barrier, pushing him back several feet. Dust and debris filled the air.

Through the ringing in his ears, Adom heard wood splintering and something heavy crashing to the floor. The makeshift second-floor platform was collapsing, sending construction materials tumbling down.

"Cass!" he shouted, trying to see through the swirling dust and smoke. His barrier flickered and held, but he couldn't tell if it had formed completely around Cass before the explosion.

No answer came.