Vex traced a finger along the spines of stolen journals, each one a piece of the puzzle. The wizard who scarred them—who left that jagged burn across their chest—had secrets worth dying for. Others had died already, after all. Their own apprentice had screamed as flesh peeled away like wet paper, but that failure only proved how close Vex had come to cracking it. The review board called it monstrous. Vex called it unfinished. Now, exiled and bitter, they would find that wizard in Knight's Landing and take what should have been theirs from the start. The town's main street smelled like wet wood and horse dung. Vex pulled their purple coat tighter and scanned the buildings. A tavern stood ahead, stone walls dark with age. The carved sign showed two mugs clinking together. Perfect. Places like this traded coin for gossip, and Vex needed to know where that bastard wizard was hiding. Inside, smoke hung thick beneath the wooden beams. Vex slid three silver coins across the bar. The keeper's eyes went to the coins, then to Vex's scarred hands. "Looking for someone," Vex said. "A wizard. Powerful. Probably keeps to himself." The keeper scratched his jaw, then nodded toward the door. "There's a post outside town. Crystals hanging from it. Follow that path two days north. Big tower covered in vines. Iron door." He pocketed the coins. "Nobody comes back from there." Vex found the wooden post an hour later, bright crystals swaying in the wind. Beyond it, a narrow path cut between the trees. Their chest burned where the scar tissue pulled tight. Two days. Two days until they reached that ivy-covered tower and its iron door. Two days until they took back what that wizard had stolen—the final piece of knowledge that would prove the review board wrong. Vex started walking. The dead apprentice, the exile, the years of searching—all of it would mean something once they claimed those secrets.

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.

The tower held more than grimoires and journals. Vex discovered a workshop on the second floor, its tables cluttered with glass vials and copper instruments. Dried herbs hung from hooks along one wall, their labels faded but still readable. A stone mortar sat beside bundles of root vegetables, preservation spells keeping them fresh despite the dust everywhere else. The wizard had lived here, worked here, perfected the techniques that Vex had fumbled. This place was everything they needed—books to study, tools to practice with, supplies to last weeks. The review board had stripped Vex of their position and resources, but here in this forgotten tower, they could rebuild. They could finish what the apprentice's death had interrupted. Vex set their pack down and touched the nearest table. The wood was solid, scarred with burn marks and chemical stains. Yes. This would do perfectly. A narrow window on the far wall drew Vex's attention. They crossed the workshop and peered through the grimy glass. Beyond the tree line, ancient stone ruins jutted from the forest floor. Broken pillars stood in a rough circle, their surfaces carved with glowing runes that pulsed with faint blue light. Vex's chest tightened. This was where the wizard had tested subjects—where battles had been fought to prove the techniques worked. The runes still held power after all this time. The review board had called Vex reckless, but the wizard had been bold enough to create a testing ground. To mark the place where theory became reality. Vex grabbed one of the grimoires from their pack and flipped through until they found a sketch of the same ruins. Notes filled the margins: "Subject seven survived transformation. Containment successful." The wizard had done it here, in that circle of stones. Vex would too. They closed the book and looked back through the window. The ruins glowed softly in the dusk. Soon, Vex would walk that ground and claim what the wizard had proven possible—mastery over flesh and death itself. The trees thinned as Vex followed a dirt path away from the tower. Knight's Landing had more to offer than just the wizard's abandoned workspace. A circular building appeared through the branches, its thatched roof rising to a point. Wooden beams curved around stone walls, and warm light spilled from windows cut into the structure. Voices drifted out—locals sharing stories. Vex pushed through the door. Inside, benches lined the walls where townspeople sat talking. An old woman gestured as she spoke about a healer who'd worked miracles decades ago. Another man described strange lights seen near the forest's edge. Vex listened from the shadows. These people knew the history of this place, the legends that might hold truth. The wizard's notes mentioned local sources, oral records passed down through generations. Information the review board would have dismissed as superstition. But Vex knew better. Every rumor about flesh magic or death rituals could lead somewhere useful. They leaned against the doorframe and absorbed every word. This building held knowledge too—just a different kind. Between the tower's records and the town's memories, Vex would piece together what the wizard had known. The scar on their chest burned as someone mentioned experiments in the woods. Yes. This place would give them everything they needed. Dawn came cold and gray. Vex returned to the tower through wet grass, their boots leaving dark prints. Outside the entrance stood a tall wooden pole they'd missed in yesterday's search. Purple and black banners hung from its top, snapping in the morning wind. Vex stopped. The colors matched symbols in the grimoires—markers for those who understood what they meant. The wizard had planted this pole as a signal, a way to draw others who sought the same forbidden knowledge. The review board would have torn it down and burned it. But here it stood, waiting for seekers like Vex to find it. They touched the wood and felt carved grooves beneath their fingers—more runes, smaller ones that spelled out promises of power. The wizard had built more than a workspace. This tower, the testing ground, the pole with its dark banners—all of it was a place designed for pushing past limits. For achieving what others called impossible. Vex looked up at the banners whipping overhead. The wizard's secrets were here, waiting to be claimed. And Vex would take them all.

Vex spread the wizard's journals across the workshop table, fingers tracing diagrams of bone restructuring. The bastard's handwriting mocked them from every page—neat, confident strokes that showed no hesitation. Each entry detailed another success where Vex had failed. The scar across their chest pulled tight as they leaned closer. Here, buried in notes about tissue stabilization, was the answer. The wizard had used living subjects in stages, not all at once like Vex had tried with the apprentice. Small changes first, then larger transformations. Vex's jaw tightened. So simple. So obvious. The review board had called their work monstrous, but they'd just been rushing. They closed the journal and stared at the copper instruments hanging on the wall. Soon they'd try again, and this time the flesh wouldn't peel away. The workshop grew dark as hours passed. Vex needed air, needed to walk before their eyes gave out. They grabbed the brass lantern and descended the tower stairs. Outside, the forest stretched in every direction. They followed a path they'd spotted earlier, one that led deeper into the trees. Twenty minutes later, a massive oak appeared ahead. The trunk was hollow, its interior large enough to crawl inside. Carved notches covered the bark—symbols and marks left by travelers over decades. A wooden bench sat at its base, worn smooth from use. Vex set the lantern down and traced their fingers over the carvings. This tree had stood here long before the wizard, long before the tower. It was a meeting place, a marker for those who knew where to look. They walked back toward town as dusk fell. In the center square stood a granite monument taller than Vex. Ivy climbed its weathered sides, wrapping around carved inscriptions that told of some ancient magical duel. Vex moved closer and read the faded words. Two wizards had fought here centuries ago, their battle shaping the entire region. The winner's name was etched deep. The loser's was barely visible. History remembered victors and forgot failures. The review board had tried to make Vex a forgotten name—an exile whose apprentice died screaming. But Vex would not be forgotten. They would master what that scarred wizard had learned and become the name carved deepest. Past the monument, Vex spotted something strange growing along the forest's edge. Black stems rose from the ground, topped with star-shaped flowers. The blooms were closed now, but as darkness fell, they opened. A faint blue glow pulsed from each petal. Vex crouched beside them and watched the light strengthen. These flowers only revealed themselves after sunset, adding an eerie beauty to the shadows. The wizard's journals had mentioned rare plants used in preservation spells—ingredients that grew in specific conditions. Vex pulled one stem free and tucked it into their coat. The forest held more than just the tower's secrets. It offered resources, history, and proof that power existed in unexpected forms. They stood and looked back at the monument, the hollow oak, the glowing flowers. Everything here would serve their goal. The wizard had left breadcrumbs, and Vex would follow each one until the path led to mastery.

The first transformation worked. Vex stood in the workshop at dawn, watching a rat's leg bone lengthen by half an inch. The creature twitched but didn't scream. Its flesh stayed intact, pink and whole around the new growth. Vex's hands trembled as they set down the copper rod they'd used to channel the spell. Three attempts yesterday had failed—bones cracked, tissue split, subjects died. But this one lived. The wizard's staged approach had been the key. Small changes. Controlled power. Vex lifted the rat by its tail and examined the lengthened limb. Perfect fusion. No peeling. No death. The scar on their chest burned hot with vindication. By midday, Vex had repeated the procedure on three more subjects. Each one survived. The workshop smelled of copper and sweat as Vex worked through the wizard's techniques one by one. They carved a mark into the wooden board they'd found leaning against the workshop wall—an intricate symbol for the bone-lengthening spell. The board already held rows of carved symbols, each one labeled with dates in someone else's hand. The wizard's hand, probably. A record of every technique mastered, every boundary crossed. Vex ran their fingers over the old carvings, then added their fresh mark below. The wood split cleanly under their knife. One spell down. The rat in the cage scratched at the floor with its longer leg, alive and whole. The board filled slowly over the following days. Vex carved another symbol after successfully fusing two separate bone fragments. Then another for stabilizing tissue during rapid growth. Each mark represented hours of work, failed attempts, and finally—success. The review board had stripped Vex of everything, but here in this tower, progress was real and visible. The wooden board became proof that the wizard's methods worked, that Vex could learn them. They propped it against the wall where morning light hit it directly. Every sunrise revealed the growing collection of symbols—a trophy display of broken barriers and conquered techniques. The scar on Vex's chest still burned, but now it felt like fuel instead of shame. The wizard had left these secrets behind, and Vex was taking them one carved mark at a time. Two weeks passed and the board held seventeen symbols. Vex carried it outside one morning and set it near the tower entrance. A stone statue stood there—a knight with sword raised high, moss growing at its base. Vex placed the board against the statue's pedestal where anyone approaching would see it. Let the world witness what they'd accomplished here. Each carved mark was a barrier broken, a technique stolen from the wizard who'd scarred them. The apprentice's death had been a failure, yes. But these seventeen successes proved Vex could learn, could improve, could master what that bastard had discovered. They stepped back and studied the board in full daylight. The symbols gleamed fresh against old wood. Soon there would be more. Soon Vex would crack the wizard's deeper secrets—the ones about death itself. For now, this display was enough. Progress made real. That afternoon, Vex found the chest on the third floor behind a locked door. The ornate wood showed age and care, its surface covered in magical seals that had weakened over time. Vex broke through the protections in under an hour—another skill stolen from the wizard's notes. Inside lay three grimoires bound in black leather, their pages thick with diagrams Vex had never seen before. Advanced techniques. Death reversals. The real work the wizard had perfected. Vex carried the chest down to the workshop and set it on the main table. This was the first true prize taken from the tower, proof that they were moving beyond basic transformations. The review board had called them a failure, but here sat knowledge those fools would never touch. Vex opened the first grimoire and began to read. The apprentice's death would not be repeated. These secrets would be learned correctly, mastered completely. The wizard's scar had marked Vex as a victim once. Now every stolen technique brought them closer to becoming the one who took everything.