Vex Thornwright's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

The path wound deeper into the forest, narrow and overgrown. Vex's boots squelched through mud as rain began to fall. Two days felt like forever when every step pulled at the scar across their chest. They needed to learn patience—something the review board had accused them of lacking. But patience was just another word for cowardice, and Vex had never been a coward. The wizard's tower waited somewhere ahead, and with it, the secrets that would prove everything. The tower appeared through the trees like a rotten tooth. Circular windows dotted the stone walls, dark and empty. Ivy crawled up every surface, thick enough to hide the mortar between stones. A pointed roof jutted into the gray sky. Vex stopped at the base and stared up. The wizard who burned that scar into their chest had walked through these walls. Had touched these same stones. Somewhere inside waited the records—grimoires and journals that would show how that bastard had mastered what Vex had only glimpsed. The review board had called Vex's work monstrous when the apprentice's flesh peeled away. They'd called it a failure. But the wizard had succeeded, and those secrets were close enough to taste. Vex pushed through the ivy and found the iron door. It opened with a groan. Inside, dust hung in the air like smoke. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with leather-bound books and loose papers yellowed with age. Vex pulled the first grimoire down and opened it. The handwriting matched the notes they'd stolen months ago. This was it. This was where they'd learn what they'd done wrong—and how to do it right. Hours passed as Vex sorted through volumes, setting aside anything useful. The light from the circular windows faded to nothing. They dug through their pack and pulled out a brass lantern, its frame carved with symbols they didn't recognize. The flame caught easily, casting warm light across the cramped space. Better. Vex returned to the shelves and pulled down three more grimoires. Each one detailed experiments with flesh and spirit—the same boundary Vex had tried to shatter. One book showed diagrams of failed subjects, their bodies twisted wrong. Another described the wizard's early attempts, crude and messy. The handwriting grew steadier in later volumes. More confident. The bastard had learned from mistakes, refined the process. Vex traced a finger down one page, reading notes about stabilizing tissue during transformation. This was what they'd been missing. This was how to keep the flesh from peeling away. They tucked the three books into their pack and grabbed the lantern. The tower held more secrets, but tonight they'd learned enough. The review board had been wrong. The work wasn't monstrous—it just needed precision. Outside, the rain had stopped. Vex set the lantern on flat stone near the entrance and walked the tower's perimeter. They'd need water if they stayed longer than a day. A stream ran twenty paces east, cold and clear. Vex filled an iron pot from their pack, the blackened metal heavy in their hands. This place would be their base now. Days, maybe weeks of study. The wizard's records showed years of progress—Vex would absorb it all in a fraction of that time. They hauled the pot back to the entrance and set it beside the lantern. The scar across their chest throbbed as they straightened. Soon that pain would mean something. Soon they'd prove the apprentice's death hadn't been waste. The tower door stood open behind them, waiting.