The anvil rang one final time as Alph hammered the cooling iron into shape. Varrick had already retreated to his quarters, leaving the smithy's main floor to the settling heat and the tick of contracting metal. Alph set down his tools with deliberate care, wiped the ash from his face with the washcloth, and moved to the his room on the first floor.

  The robe lay folded on the wooden crate where he'd left it. He pulled it on, the familiar weight draping his shoulders. The east wind cut through Val Karok as Alph left Grimforge, though the stone streets still held the day's warmth.

  The training hall's heavy door groaned as Alph pushed it open, flooding the space with cool air tinged by sweat and oiled steel. Nylessa moved through footwork drills with dancer's precision, her boots whispering across polished stone. She froze mid-step, sensing the opening of doors and turned to him.

  Alph shed his robe and tunic, pulling on the training clothes draped over the dummy. Nylessa wiped her brow and stepped closer, practice daggers now rested at her hips.

  Tightening the leather straps, "We need to adjust tonight," Alph said, not bothering with preamble. "Cut the Twin Strike and Flicker training to two-thirds usual time."

  Nylessa's expression hardened. "The hell for?"

  "I need the remainder for Druidic spell training."

  She studied his face, searching for lies. Finding none, she exhaled sharply. "Fine. But practice it here with me. Why split the time?"

  Alph looked up from tying his laces. "Wait, you don't know the spell? The one you gave me yesterday?"

  Nylessa stopped mid-step. Her gaze went sideways, avoiding his. "I know the name, but I'm not a druid so how would I know the details of practice?"

  Alph shook his head, a deliberate, firm motion. "The skill needs a plant-rich environment, something alive and rooted. The training hall won't work for this." His forehead creased; the problem's weight settled over him. The dwarven hold was stone, metal, and fire. Finding something as simple as growing things felt impossibly distant. "I need to find one in this mountain hold, which…" He trailed off, unspoken doubt hanging between them.

  Nylessa's eyes lit with realization. "The southern park. Perfect for your practice."

  Alph blinked. "There's a park? In a dwarven hold?"

  "Yeah, well, the dwarves got pressured into building it years back. Diplomatic reasons or some shit. I don't actually know the full story." She shrugged, resuming her footwork. "I go there sometimes when I'm bored. It's... calm. Plants everywhere. Probably exactly what you need."

  The suggestion made sense. Alph nodded. "I'll check it out."

  "Why don't we go together? I can lead you there instead of you stumbling around trying to find it." Excitement crept into her voice, edged with something close to pleading.

  Alph turned away, preparing to decline. The words formed in his mouth, but he stopped. He remembered last night; the emotional vulnerability he sensed prevented him from declining her outright.

  He turned back. "Alright."

  Nylessa's head lifted, surprise flickering across her face before vanishing. She didn't ask for explanations or thanks. A quick nod, then she rolled her shoulders and grinned. "Practice until seventh bell, then we go."

  They moved through the upper district toward the city's southern quarter, the streets widening as they proceeded. Ornate carriages rolled past, lanterns swinging from their fronts; magic lamps flooded shop windows with harsh light, a sharp contrast to the dimmer western district and the soot-stained Grimforge Quarter. Nylessa walked beside him, her pace steady, heavy cloak draped over her form, obscuring everything but her misty exhales.

  The air shifted as they approached the park's entrance. Alph caught the scent first, green and alive, carrying the mineral undertone of mountain soil. Stone archways framed the opening, dwarven craftsmanship evident in every precise joint and carved relief. Beyond them, darkness gave way to moonlit shapes of trees and shrubs, their leaves clinging to branches despite the advancing season.

  Nylessa stepped through first, her shoulders dropping as the plant-rich air surrounded them. He followed a half-step behind, the gravel path crunching beneath his boots. The green scent thickened under the canopy, layered with damp bark and cold stone.

  "Come on," Nylessa said, her voice low, almost reverent in the stillness. She gestured past a row of sculpted hedges toward the deeper dark. "There's a clearing on the other side of the old stone fountain. Moon hits it clean when the angle's right. Good light for whatever you want to practice."

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  Alph moved after her, boots finding the worn grooves of the path. He studied the back of her head, the grey bob swaying with each step. She walked differently here. Looser. Less coiled. The assassin's habitual vigilance hadn't vanished, her eyes still swept the treeline, but the edge had softened into something closer to ease.

  He let the silence hold between them, content to listen to the rustle of leaves overhead and the distant murmur of water trickling through stone channels.

  The fourth attempt held.

  Alph knelt at the clearing's center, palms flat against the cold soil, fingers splayed. Willpower flowed outward through the roots beneath his hands. Each life-thread demanded focus, a separate act of mental force—dozens of tiny ropes gripped at once. The grass, the moss on the fountain's base, the gnarled shrubs, the thick-trunked oak with its webbed roots; he knotted their life-threads together, binding them into a single circuit.

  Life-Link snapped into place.

  The clearing transformed in Alph's perception. Each blade of grass pulsed against his consciousness. The oak's roots carried the earth's pressure. A beetle's movement twenty paces left scraped like fingernails on his skin. The space functioned as a single entity, synchronized and obedient.

  His willpower drain was savage; maintaining the false domain consumed it at a rate that made his jaw clench. Sweat beaded along his hairline despite the cold air.

  "So..." Nylessa's voice drifted from behind him. "Nothing happened?"

  "Everything within fifteen paces became one organism under my control," Alph said, releasing the spell and exhaling. "I felt each footstep, every insect, every shift in weight across the entire zone."

  He steadied his breath. "I can pull vitality from a whole field of grass to make one vine grow quicker than my Nature's Touch allows for. The willpower expenditure stays on maintaining the link, not the growth itself. That's the bonus."

  Silence from Nylessa. Then a sharp click of her tongue she mumbled.

  "So the elders didn't lie after all."

  Alph tilted his head, "What do you mean?"

  "When I asked for a spell scroll, I told then that I wanted something that could rival Tier 2 capability. Something that would actually matter." She hopped off the fountain's rim, boots crunching gravel.

  "The elders picked this one. Turns a patch of forest into your own personal hunting ground—Tier 2 power crammed into Tier 1 skin." She kicked a pebble. "Didn't believe them till you confirmed it." She paused. "You know what? In the history of my village, nobody's demonstrated the spell at Tier 1. The willpower requirement was too high. And Tier 2 druids get their domain anyway, so why bother? But for you..." She shrugged. "Felt right."

  Alph's chest tightened with an unfamiliar warmth, cutting through his usual detachment. He understood the value of her gift—no bargain or obligation, just quiet thoughtfulness that left him grateful.

  "Thank you, Nylessa." No hesitation tainted the words.

  Her stride faltered. Then she recovered, spinning back with narrowed eyes and a crooked grin. "Hold on. That's the first time I've seen actual emotion from you." She held up a finger. "Other than anger. And impatience. And rudeness. And that thing you do where you stare at people like they're prey—"

  "I get it." Alph pushed himself to his feet, brushing soil from his knees.

  She laughed, her voice bright and unguarded in the quiet park. "I always feel at home here, unlike those damp caverns where I live." Her tone shifted, becoming somber. "Alph, have you ever felt like an outcast?"

  Alph frowned. "Why are you asking that all of a sudden?"

  Nylessa shook her head. "No, don't mind it. Just something that slipped out." She waved a hand dismissively. "Please ignore what I said."

  He studied her face, weighing whether to press. The question had carried weight, but her deflection was firm. He let it drop.

  "What are your plans after this?" he asked instead. "Next few days."

  "Rest. Eat. Sleep for about fourteen hours." She stretched her arms overhead, wincing as the motion pulled at her healing shoulder. "Then back to Rook for a new contract."

  Alph frown deepened. "Why Rook specifically? Doesn't the guild assign missions?"

  Nylessa opened her mouth, "Contracts only come through your recruiter. It's voluntary, not mandatory. You pick what you want from what they offer, and—"

  Alph's eyes narrowed. "You forgot to tell me this."

  Her mouth clamped shut. Recognition flashed across her face, the particular look of someone who'd said too much and knew it. "I... yeah. Sorry about that. I should've mentioned it."

  The apology carried no real contrition. But she didn't dismiss it either, didn't wave it away or deflect with humor. She let the acknowledgment stand, which from her counted as significant.

  "Next mission," she said, pointing at him. "You're tagging along. Even if I don't need backup." She paused, then added with deliberate weight: "And I'll get you a combat spell this time. A real one."

  Alph studied her, assessing the promise in light of her unpredictable nature. "I’ll hold you to that," he said.

  Nylessa flashed a wolfish grin. "You'd better. Are you going to practice more?" Alph nodded. She yawned, stretching her arms. "Then I’ll take a nap over there." She pointed to a thick branch in the treeline, sturdy enough to hold her. Without waiting for his reply, she strode off.

  Alph watched her go, silent. I still need to practice more, he thought, not to learn the spell, but to speed up my Druid node. His mind drifted back to the last time he talked to the Shaper. Practicing his rogue skills had already pulled that node closer to his constellation. It was only a few days off before the Rogue node combined with Thief, turning into another Tier 1 node.