The summoner’s eyes flicked to the necklace resting on the table, its faint green glow pulsing softly with each returning firefly. For a moment, his expression was unreadable—a mix of caution and something that almost resembled guilt.

  “I’ve… seen it before,” he finally admitted, his voice quiet. “Or something like it. Long ago.”

  Renee’s brow furrowed, her frustration turning into suspicion. “Long ago? You mean it’s not even yours? You just happened to know it could help?”

  The summoner sighed deeply, his earlier composure giving way to a weary calm. He straightened slightly, his eyes distant, as though looking back through the years.

  “When I joined the summoners’ guild, I was young. Too young to fully understand the dangers of what we do,” he began, his voice steady and deliberate, each word chosen carefully. “Knowledge is power, but it is also peril. I learned that the hard way on my first collection crusade. We were sent to retrieve grimwares from a tomb that had only recently been unearthed.”

  He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “The builders of that place were wise. Wise enough to lay protections that still functioned centuries later. I walked into one of them—a snare, designed to cripple and destroy those who didn’t belong. In my inexperience, I underestimated the craft of those who came before me.”

  His gaze shifted to the necklace on the table, its faint glow reflected in his eyes. “I should have died that day, but I didn’t. An elf—a protector of knowledge, not unlike myself—found me. They disarmed the trap, saved my life, and escorted me to safety.”

  Renee’s brows furrowed, suspicion evident on her face, but she didn’t interrupt.

  “Before we parted ways, they gave me this necklace,” the summoner continued, his tone soft but firm. “They told me it would protect me when I next found myself unprepared. I did not fully understand their words at the time. But over the years, I’ve come to know that certain artifacts—this necklace among them—are not given lightly. They are meant to find their true wielder.”

  He turned his gaze back to you, his eyes sharp. “Today, that wielder is you.”

  Renee’s lips curled into a snarl as she stepped forward. “You’re saying this necklace found its way to you because of destiny?” Her voice was biting, her arms crossed tightly. “So what, you’re a grave robber now? Stealing from the dead and justifying it as fate?”

  The summoner didn’t flinch, meeting her glare with a calm, unshakable certainty. “I am no grave robber,” he said evenly, hand waving the accusation, his voice carrying the weight of a teacher addressing an unruly student. “I am a preserver of knowledge. That tomb held secrets that could have been lost to time, buried forever beneath the sands. I went not to plunder, but to ensure that the wisdom of the past could guide the present—and the future.”

  Renee scoffed, her arms still crossed. “That’s a convenient excuse. Where exactly is this knowledge held, and who gets to access it?”

  The summoner’s expression hardened, but his voice remained steady. “Convenience has nothing to do with it. What we learn from the past shapes what we become. To turn away from such wisdom would be the greater crime.”

  “And for where this knowledge is kept, the academy of the summoners guild and its many libraries of course”

  For a moment, Renee seemed ready to argue further, but her words faltered. She glanced at you, her frustration mingling with uncertainty.

  The summoner turned back to you, his voice softening. “The necklace responds to you. It has chosen you. Not by chance, but by purpose. It is not something I can teach you to wield. That, you must learn for yourself.”

  “And if I may,” Renee interjected sharply, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. “When will I get my husband back? That is why we came to you in the first place.”

  The summoner turned to her, his expression careful, measured. “Of course. Though I must warn you, the answer may not be what you hope to hear.”

  Renee’s jaw tightened, her eyebrows furrowing as she focused intently on the story. Her lips pressed into a small pout, her frustration evident but restrained.

  “There are stories—legends, really—of champions coming and going,” the summoner began, his tone shifting to something almost reverent, as though reciting sacred memories. “In one of the oracle’s oldest tales, a champion was chosen for only two hours. They fled the ceremony, still wearing their ceremonial robes, armed with nothing but a thief’s dagger—stolen from the sleeping rogue during the night.”

  He paused, letting the imagery take hold before continuing. “Yet, in that fleeting time, they defeated a dragon. And when the woodcutter awoke, they found themselves atop a pile of gold, returned to their original self as if nothing had ever happened.”

  He allowed the room to fall into silence, his words settling like a heavy mist. “The point is, the time a champion remains is often tied to their purpose. When their task is fulfilled, they return—back to where, or who, they once were.”

  Renee trying to hold herself together. Her voice trembled, though she fought to keep it steady. “So what you’re saying is… my husband could be gone until he’s done? And we have no idea what that task even is?”

  The summoner nodded, slow and deliberate, his gaze shifting back to you. “I believe that even you do not yet know why you are here. The reason will reveal itself in time, as will your path.”

  Renee rolled her eyes so theatrically it seemed she might have to reach out and catch them before they fell from her face.

  The summoner straightened, his tone growing more formal. “Which is why I now invite you to join me on my return to the Summoners’ Academy. There, you may explore our collected wisdom, uncover truths that may guide you, and perhaps discover your purpose.”

  His gaze flicked briefly to Renee before settling back on you. “And by that, I mean both of you. If we are to understand this, we could certainly use brains like yours.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  You suspected the summoner’s invitation to Renee had to do with her intellect but more with the undeniable fact that there wasn’t a universe where she’d let you walk off into the sunset without her.

  The summoner leaned back, his expression thoughtful as the conversation lulled. After a moment, he looked up, rubbing his stomach with a faint grimace.

  “I’m set to leave town when the winds turn and the next boat makes it into the harbor, heading downriver. Word is, that won’t be until the day after tomorrow.” He exhaled sharply, then added with a wry smile, “But in the meantime, I’m going to need something to eat. Feels like I’ve been sitting on an empty stomach all day. Anywhere you recommend around here, Renee?”

  Renee snapped out of her haze, the weight of the conversation settling in as the silence gave her thoughts room to land. Her serious expression softened, switching to a sweet smile—more out of habit than anything else—as she looked at the summoner.

  “Uh, yes. Food. Right.” She hesitated, glancing toward the bar. “I mean, Peter makes the best hangover cures in town.”

  Without waiting for a response, she raised an arm and waved at Peter, her movements casual but precise.

  The summoner leaned back in his seat, a resigned sigh escaping him. Any dream of leaving this inn quickly seemed to fade further into the distance.

  Peter approached, towel slung over his shoulder. “Hai, Peter,” Renee chirped, her grin bright and mischievous. “One heart attack, please, for Sir Empty Stomach over here.”

  Peter quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to the summoner with mock severity. “If you can promise me you didn’t ruin my restroom,” he said, his long face betraying a faint smirk.

  The summoner’s head snapped up, his expression a mix of shock and indignation. “I—what?!”

  Renee’s grin widened, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. The summoner glared at her, muttering something under his breath as he excused himself, clearly flustered, to “double-check” the facilities.

  Peter and Renee exchanged a glance, and as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind the summoner, they both broke into laughter.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Peter grinned, wiping his hands on his towel. “I just cleaned it. He’ll be back in no time.” He tilted his head toward Renee. “I’ll go make his food. Did you want anything?”

  “We have plenty of food at home, thank you,” Renee replied automatically, then froze as her own words caught up to her. Her eyes widened, and she turned to you, her expression questioning, almost uncertain.

  Peter simply nodded, muttering to himself as he disappeared into the kitchen. “Always the same.”

  Renee shifted in her seat, then announced with a hint of nervousness, “We should stop by the library after this. I have… some business to attend to.”

  You nodded at her, sensing her unease but deciding not to press the matter.

  Moments later, the summoner returned, slipping back into his seat without a word. Renee and the summoner exchanged a brief, unreadable look before she broke the silence, smirking. “See? And you said our hospitality standards were low.”

  The summoner exhaled in mock defeat, bowing his head slightly. “It’s on me for even doubting it.”

  Right on cue, Peter reappeared, a plate balanced expertly in his hands. The aroma hit you first—rich, savory roasted boar, with the faint scent of fresh bread.

  The plate slid onto the table, and your eyes widened. Thick, glistening slices of boar fat lay atop crunchy bread, its top golden and crisp while the bottom was soaked with juices. The boar skin looked impossibly crunchy, shimmering with a sheen of perfectly rendered fat.

  “One Heart Attack,” Peter announced, setting down as knife and fork jump off the plate as the summon readies himself to attack the plate.

  The summoner hesitated just long enough to show restraint before giving in to the inevitable. He looked up, fork in hand, and spoke through his hunger.

  “As neither of you have ordered food, did you wish to share, or may I request the courtesy of eating in peace?”

  There was kindness in his tone, but it was clear he was hoping for the latter. His grip on his utensils tightened ever so slightly, his focus already locked onto his meal as he prepared for the first bite.

  Renee jolted back to the moment, snapping out of her thoughts. “Oh! Right—let’s head out.” As if on cue, she shot up from her seat, marching off without a second thought.

  You stood as well, eyeing the summoner for a beat before giving him a polite wave. He acknowledged it with a barely perceptible nod, already lost to his plate.

  Turning a shoulder, you followed Renee, catching up just as she pressed Kevin’s coat back into your hands.

  From her pocket, she pulled out a handful of metal coins, letting them jingle softly as she sorted through them. Her fingers tapped against a few, counting absently. Finally, she singled out one—a brass-colored coin with a hole in the center and an ornate hexagonal texture.

  She held it out to you. “Can you snap off two sixths, please?”

  You turned the coin over in your palm, feeling the distinct ridges beneath your thumb—six evenly spaced deep grooves leading to the hole in the center, with periodic high spots and low spots. almost like a heatsink.

  You blink fishy at the coin and Renee.

  She blinked back, fishier. “Right,” she exhaled, yanking the coin from your grasp.

  “These coins—like most others—are designed to…” She crouched slightly, bracing her knee as she gritted her teeth and grunted, straining against the coin. A hint of red crept into her face as she shot you a hopeful glance, one eye peeking up through her failed attempt.

  You squint at her. Palm raised.

  She sighed dramatically and dropped the slightly bent coin into your palm, flashing a sheepish, toothy grin.

  You took it between your hands and, with barely any effort, snapped it in half. Holding the two halves up, you inspected the break—it was surprisingly smooth, almost seamless, save for the slight bend from Renee’s earlier attempt.

  Taking one half, you pressed your thumb against the grooves, snapping off exactly one-sixth as easily as breaking a piece of chocolate. The fractures were unnervingly clean.

  Renee plucked the second smallest fragment from your palm with a triumphant hum, turning to the bar. With a wave toward Peter, she deposited the two sixths of the coin onto the counter.

  “Thank you! We’ll be on our way!” she called, already making for the exit.

  You followed after her, stepping out into the cool evening air. She paused just outside, inhaling deeply, her eyes half-lidded as she took in the scent of wood smoke curling through the streets.

  The square was bathed in the flickering glow of braziers, their flames casting long, wavering shadows as dusk settled in. Your gaze drifted to the center of the plaza, where a group of hunters had gathered around a spit. Suspended over a slow-burning fire, a massive boar—easily the size of a small horse—turned slowly on a thick iron skewer.

  Children lined up eagerly, though their wide eyes failed to grasp the reality that their prize wouldn’t be ready for at least another three hours.

  You took in the scene, the hum of conversation, the gentle crackle of fire, and asked, “Does that happen often?”

  Renee followed your gaze, crossing her arms as she chuckled. “Most days. Big game, big boasting—it’s practically a town-wide arm-wrestling match over who can bring back the largest kill.” She gestured loosely toward the firepit. “One of the elders still swears they once hauled in a giant lizard. Says it was so massive it could’ve fed the town for weeks. No one else has ever backed up that story, but that’s never stopped them from telling it.”

  Her amused expression lingered for a moment before she straightened, her demeanor shifting slightly. She turned toward the library, nodding at the large wooden building. “Come with me. There’s something I need to show you. I wasn’t entirely honest with the summoner.”