Spero's Arc

Chapter 1 of 10

Spero pressed the wooden pendant flat against his chest and slipped through the doors of the Guild Registry Office. Inside, the photo tucked in its hollow center was all he had left of his family. A green-haired girl held a smaller boy's hand. His sister. He had lost her years ago, when they were split apart, and he had spent every month since chasing her name through offices like this one. He kept his hood up. Green curls meant questions, and questions meant the old looks. He was one of the few people born with magic, and that had never made his life easier. As a child, others had shoved him, then pretended he wasn't there. So he learned to stay small and quiet. He learned to trust no one. The clerk waved him toward tall shelves of bound records. Spero worked fast, turning pages, matching the face in the photo to names in the mission logs. His finger stopped. A knight's escort assignment listed a woman with his sister's name, sent north two seasons ago. His heart pounded. A real lead, at last. He carried the log to the desk. The clerk shook her head. "Mission records are sealed. You can only read the full report if you're assigned to the follow-up quest. And that quest needs two." "Two," Spero repeated. His stomach dropped. He worked alone. He always had. "Then sign me up." The voice came from behind him, loud and bright. A girl shoved past, boots loud on the polished wood. Muscles filled her armor. Her spiky hair stuck up like she'd never once cared what anyone thought. She slapped a gloved hand on the desk. "I've read that mission twice. Nobody will touch it because the road's rough. Cowards." She turned to Spero and grinned, sizing him up. "You're the second name, then. Try not to slow me down." Spero stepped back. His grip tightened on the pendant. "I don't need a partner." "Sure you don't." She leaned close, testing him, waiting for a reaction. "But the paper needs two names, hood boy. So it's me or nobody." He hated it. Working beside a stranger meant being seen. It meant someone watching when he was tired, when his magic slipped, when he cared too much. But the log on the desk held the road his sister had traveled. He could not reach it alone. The clerk pushed the form across the wood. Spero stared at it. Then he loosened his hood, just enough, and let the green curls show. "Spero," he said, signing. The girl snatched the pen. "Valeria." She scrawled her name beside his, hard enough to tear the page. The clerk stamped the form. The full report slid free, thick and sealed no longer. Spero had his lead. He also had a partner he never wanted, and no way to send her back.