The adrenaline that had fueled their desperate flight from Dragon's Tooth Valley eventually gave way to bone-deep exhaustion. They didn't stop running, not truly, until the jagged peaks were a hazy silhouette against the afternoon sky and the air no longer thrummed with the phantom echoes of cosmic energies.
They collapsed under the shade of an ancient, gnarled oak, its sprawling branches offering a welcome respite from the sun. For several long minutes, the only sounds were their ragged gasps for breath and the chirping of oblivious crickets.
Mira was the first to speak, her voice raspy. "Did… did anyone else see… or am I going mad?" She hugged her knees to her chest, her usually bright sea-green eyes wide and haunted.
Finn, sprawled on his back and staring up through the leaves, let out a shaky laugh that held no humor. "Mad? If that was madness, then lock me up. I saw… I don't even know what I saw. Gods, Kael, that light… it was like staring into the sun, but a hundred times brighter."
Kael sat propped against the tree trunk, methodically wiping grime from his face with the hem of his tunic. The System's post-event summary still flickered faintly in his mind, but he pushed it aside. The raw experience was what mattered now. "They were mages," he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor he felt deep inside. "Or something far beyond what common mages are capable of. What we saw… that was power on a scale that can reshape landscapes."
"Reshape landscapes?" Mira repeated, a shiver running down her spine. "They erased half the valley, Kael!"
"The energy readings…" Kael began, then stopped himself. Explaining gigajoules and terawatts to them now would be pointless. "Their control was… absolute. The way they manipulated the environment, the sheer force." He looked at his own small hands. His carefully planned printing press, his market strategies – they felt infinitesimally small.
Finn sat up, rubbing his arms. "So, people can actually do that? I thought magic was just… village healers mending broken bones, or a traveling sorcerer making a few sparks for coppers."
"Clearly," Kael said dryly, "we've been operating under a limited dataset." He paused, a new thought taking root. "The barrier they put up, the one they broke… it was meant to contain the battle, to hide it."
"Hide it from who?" Mira asked.
"Us, maybe? Or anyone who might stumble upon it," Kael mused. "Which means whatever they were fighting about, it was important. And secret."
A comfortable silence settled for a moment, heavy with unspoken awe and fear. Then, Finn, ever the pragmatist, grumbled, "Well, secret or not, I'm starving. And I have no idea where we are."
Kael looked around. The terrain was unfamiliar. The mad scramble to escape had taken them far off any known paths. Rolling hills, dotted with copses of unfamiliar trees, stretched out before them. There was no sign of Eldham, nor the distinct landmarks they usually navigated by.
"We need to find water first," Kael said, pushing himself to his feet. "Then figure out our direction. We can't be too far off, but this area isn't on any of the village maps I've seen."
Their journey resumed at a slower, more cautious pace. The earlier terror was replaced by a subdued excitement. The world, which had seemed so knowable just that morning, now held a terrifying, exhilarating new dimension. Mira, her botanist instincts kicking in, started pointing out unfamiliar plants, her earlier shock giving way to curiosity. Finn, meanwhile, kept a sharp eye out for animal tracks or any sign of a path, his usual easygoing demeanor now tinged with a new seriousness.
Kael walked with them, but a part of his mind was elsewhere, replaying the impossible energies, the System's frantic readouts. The experience had fundamentally shifted his perspective. His goals hadn't changed, but the scale of the challenge, and the potential opposition, had magnified exponentially.
Late in the afternoon, as the sun began to dip towards the horizon, casting long, amber shadows, they crested a low hill. Below them, nestled in a gentle depression and surrounded by a meticulously maintained stone wall, was an estate larger and more opulent than anything they had ever seen. Manicured gardens, orchards, and even a small, shimmering lake surrounded a grand, multi-winged mansion built of pale, dressed stone, its windows glinting like distant jewels.
"Woah," Finn breathed, his eyes wide. "Now that's a house. Think they have any spare apples?"
Mira was equally impressed. "I've never seen anything like it around here. It must belong to a very important lord… or maybe even someone from the capital."
Kael scanned the perimeter wall. It was high, at least ten feet, but the section bordering what looked like a sprawling, slightly overgrown orchard seemed less imposing, with several large trees growing close enough to potentially offer a way over. An idea, audacious and spurred by a mixture of curiosity and a sudden, inexplicable urge, began to form in his mind. He needed information, a new perspective. The battle had shown him the limits of his current understanding.
"What are you thinking, Kael?" Mira asked, noticing the focused glint in his eyes.
"I'm thinking," Kael said slowly, "that whoever lives there might have maps. Or at least know how to get back to Eldham. And perhaps… they might know something about what happened in the valley." This last part was a stretch, but it was a plausible excuse for what he was really considering.
Finn snorted. "And you think they're just going to invite three dusty, lost village kids in for tea and directions?"
"Not invite, no," Kael said, a mischievous spark – a rare flash of his more childish, less 'old soul' side – appearing. "But that orchard wall looks climbable. We could just… take a quick look around. From the inside."
Mira gasped. "Kael! Sneak in? Are you crazy? What if we get caught?"
"We'll be quiet," Kael said, his mind already working out the angles. "Just a peek. For information. And maybe an apple or two, Finn." The thought of it, the slight risk, was a welcome distraction from the heavier thoughts that had plagued him.
Finn grinned, his earlier apprehension forgotten. "Now you're talking! A bit of adventure after nearly getting vaporized? I'm in."
Mira hesitated, torn between caution and the undeniable thrill of Kael's daring. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you, Kael Dray." But there was a reluctant excitement in her voice.
Under the cover of the deepening twilight, the three of them made their way to the orchard section of the wall. True to Kael's assessment, a sturdy oak spread its branches invitingly close. Finn, being the tallest and strongest, went first, scrambling up with surprising agility and dropping silently to the other side. He gave a low whistle. Mira followed, a little less gracefully but with determination.
Kael was last. As he perched on top of the wall, looking down into the lush, shadowed garden, a wave of dizziness hit him – not from the height, but from a sudden, intense flashback. He saw a different garden, one from his Earth life, his mother tending roses, her face clear and smiling… and then, just as quickly, the image fractured, dissolved, leaving behind an aching void. He gripped the stone, his knuckles white, until the feeling passed.
He dropped lightly into the soft loam of the orchard. The air here was sweet with the scent of ripe fruit and damp earth. They moved like shadows between the trees, their childish excitement warring with the need for stealth.
Beyond the orchard, through a trellised archway veiled in the fragrant white blossoms of night-jasmine, lay a more formal garden. Precisely raked gravel paths crunched softly under Kael's worn boots as they crept forward, the air cooler here, carrying the scent of damp earth and something subtly floral, like expensive soap. Neatly trimmed boxwood hedges, sculpted into gentle curves, formed alcoves and borders. In the center of a small clearing, under a large, white-painted wooden gazebo latticed with climbing roses, a solitary figure was hunched over a sturdy lap desk.
From their hiding spot behind a particularly dense rhododendron bush, Mira whispered, "Look at him. Definitely not a farmer."
Finn squinted. "Rich, you mean. That shirt looks smoother than anything in Eldham. And he's got actual buckles on his shoes."
Kael observed the boy more keenly. He appeared to be around thirteen or fourteen, a few years older than Finn. His dark hair, almost black in the dimming light, was neatly combed, though a few strands had escaped to fall across his forehead as he frowned in concentration. He wore a tunic of fine, deep blue linen, not ostentatious, but clearly well-made, over dark trousers that were tucked into soft leather boots – the kind that didn't look like they'd seen a day's work in a muddy field. An ink smudge, like a tiny blue birthmark, adorned one high cheekbone, and the cuffs of his tunic were slightly rumpled, as if he'd been pushing them up repeatedly. He was muttering under his breath, a low, frustrated hum, and occasionally the tip of his tongue would peek out from the corner of his lips as he jabbed a slender quill at the open notebook on his lap desk. The overall impression was of someone well-cared for, but currently wrestling with a task that was clearly vexing him.
Kael gestured for Mira and Finn to remain concealed, their faces pressed into the fragrant leaves of the rhododendron. He took a quiet breath, then stepped out from behind the bush, trying to look as non-threatening as a dusty, slightly dishevelled nine-year-old could.
The boy's head snapped up, startled by the crunch of Kael's boot on the gravel. His eyes – a surprisingly soft, hazel color, flecked with gold in the twilight – widened in alarm. He scrambled to his feet, his lap desk clattering to the ground, the notebook sliding off and landing open on the flagstones. "Wh-who are you?" he stammered, his voice higher pitched and softer than Kael expected, more reedy than commanding. "What are you doing here? This is private property! Guards! Guards!" He glanced around wildly, as if expecting sentries to materialize from the rose bushes.
Kael held up his hands, palms open. "Easy there. We're just lost. We saw the lights from your… well, your home, and thought we could ask for directions. We didn't mean to trespass."
The boy – Levin, Kael would later learn his name was – eyed him with intense suspicion. The ink smudge on his cheek was more prominent now, making him look like a flustered scholar rather than an imperious noble. "Lost?" he repeated, skepticism lacing his tone. "How does one get 'lost' inside a walled estate?"
Kael's gaze, however, was drawn to the fallen notebook. Even upside down and from a few feet away, the familiar, meticulous scrawl of mathematical symbols was unmistakable. Columns of multiplication, a sprawling long division problem that seemed to have been attacked and abandoned several times, and a few crudely drawn triangles and squares with measurements scrawled beside them. For someone who looked to be on the cusp of young adulthood, the level was surprisingly… elementary.
"You're working on mathematics?" Kael asked, his curiosity genuine, the earlier tension of their illicit entry momentarily forgotten.
Levin flushed a deep crimson, from his neck to the tips of his ears. "That's… that is entirely my own affair!" he snapped, though there was more embarrassment than anger in his voice. "I was merely… reviewing some foundational concepts." He bent hastily to retrieve the notebook, as if to shield its contents from Kael's gaze.
Kael, however, took an instinctive step closer, his eyes fixed on a particularly messy long division problem. "That one, 3457 divided by 7," he said, pointing before he could stop himself. "Are you trying to find the exact quotient, or just determine if it's divisible without a remainder?"
Levin froze, his hand hovering over the notebook. He stared at Kael, his hazel eyes narrowed. "What concern is it of yours?"
"No concern," Kael admitted. "But if you're just checking for divisibility by seven, there's a trick for it. You don't need to do the full long division if a simple yes or no is enough."
Before Levin could retort, Finn and Mira, perhaps sensing that the immediate danger of being discovered had passed and replaced by something far stranger, emerged hesitantly from behind the rhododendron. Finn looked sheepish, Mira curious.
Levin's head whipped towards them, his alarm reigniting tenfold. "More of you? By the Embers, is this an invasion of errant children?"
"They're my friends," Kael said calmly, his focus still partly on the math. "We really are just lost. But the divisibility rule for seven… you take the last digit, double it, and subtract it from the rest of the number. If the result is divisible by seven, or if it's zero, then the original number is divisible by seven. You can repeat the process if the number is still too large." He illustrated with a quick example. "So, for 3457: take the 7, double it to 14. Subtract 14 from 345. That's 331. Still not sure? Take the 1 from 331, double it to 2. Subtract 2 from 33. That's 31. Is 31 divisible by seven? No. So 3457 isn't perfectly divisible by seven. You'll have a remainder."
Levin stared at Kael, his mouth slightly agape. The frustration that had been etched on his face moments before was slowly being replaced by a dawning astonishment. He looked down at his notebook, where his own laborious calculations for that exact problem sprawled across half a page, ending in a messy, uncertain answer.
Mira and Finn exchanged bewildered glances. They'd seen Kael calculate crop yields and lumber requirements with uncanny speed, but this "divisibility rule" was a foreign language to them. There were no schools in Eldham; their learning was practical, passed down through observation and apprenticeship. The idea of "rules" for numbers was novel.
"But… but how did you know that?" Levin finally managed, his voice barely a whisper. "My tutor, Master Elms, he… he spent an entire week attempting to drill the standard division algorithm into my head. He never mentioned any… trick."
"It's not really a trick," Kael said with a slight shrug, though a familiar intellectual spark ignited within him. This was comfortable territory. "It's a property of numbers, a pattern. Mathematics is full of them. Once you understand the underlying principles, a lot of complex calculations become simpler. Long division is a reliable algorithm, a step-by-step process, but it's not always the most efficient way to get certain kinds of answers."
"Patterns?" Levin echoed, looking at his notebook with a new expression, as if it were a treasure map he couldn't decipher. He tapped the quill against a multiplication problem: 98 x 23. "And for this? My tutor insists on the full multi-digit multiplication. It takes me ages, and I always seem to misplace a carry-over."
Kael glanced at it. "Well, 98 is close to 100. You could think of it as (100 - 2) x 23. So that's 100 times 23, which is 2300. And then 2 times 23, which is 46. So, you subtract 46 from 2300. 2300 minus 40 is 2260, minus another 6 is 2254." He said it all in a calm, even stream, as if reciting a simple verse.
Finn let out a low whistle. "He does that sometimes," he offered to a still-stunned Levin. "Just… sees it."
Levin looked from Kael's earnest, if slightly dusty, face back to his own smudged calculations. "Two thousand, two hundred, and fifty-four," he repeated slowly, as if tasting the numbers. He quickly scribbled Kael's method beside his own lengthy work. "That's… that's significantly faster. And less prone to error if you're careful with the subtraction." He looked up at Kael, his earlier defensiveness completely gone, replaced by an intense, almost hungry curiosity. "Who are you? And how do you know these things? Are you… a scholar's apprentice from the city?"
Kael considered his answer. "My name is Kael. These are my friends, Mira and Finn. And no, not an apprentice. I just… like numbers. They make sense."
Levin's gaze flickered between the three of them – Kael, small for his nine years but with an unnerving intelligence in his grey eyes; Mira, alert and observant, her bright curiosity barely veiled; and Finn, sturdy and quiet, looking distinctly out of place amidst the manicured elegance of the garden. They were clearly not from his world, yet this Kael…
"Could you," Levin began, his voice hesitant but eager, "could you perhaps explain more? About these… patterns? My tutor focuses on memorizing methods, but he rarely explains why they work." He gestured to the stone bench. "Please. If you truly are lost, the least I can do is offer you a place to rest while I… while I consider how to assist you."
The invitation was tentative, the situation still awkward, but the shared language of mathematics had forged an unexpected, fragile bridge. Kael met Mira's questioning gaze, then Finn's. This was an opportunity, a way to learn more about this new, opulent world they'd stumbled into. And perhaps, for Kael, a chance to feel a little less like a fading echo and more like a teacher, a conduit of the knowledge he still possessed.
The terror of Dragon's Tooth Valley, the unsettling power of the mages, seemed to recede just a little further, replaced by the quiet, intellectual challenge laid out on the pages of a frustrated noble boy's notebook.