The streets of Litwick were eerily quiet in the early hours of the morning, the soft glow of lanterns still flickering along the cobbled paths.

  A faint mist lingered in the air, swirling around Rowan’s boots with each step. The city, often alive with the bustle of adventurers and merchants, now felt almost peaceful.

  Rowan adjusted his coat against the cool breeze, his hands slipping into the pockets as he glanced at Zoe walking beside him. Her usual calm demeanor seemed even more pronounced in the quiet of the dawn. She carried herself with the same poise she always did, her staff tapping against the ground with each step.

  He’d expected her to be talkative after the conversation they’d just had, but she hadn’t said much since leaving the house.

  Rowan wasn’t sure if she was deep in thought, or simply giving him time to process her revelations.

  The silence between them wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy. The kind of silence that demanded attention, yet neither of them was quite ready to break it.

  It wasn’t until they passed the bakery near the Guild Hall that Rowan finally spoke, his breath misting in the cold air.

  “So,” he began, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “This High-Priest you want me to meet—what’s he like?”

  If he was going to talk to someone about his biggest secret, he at least wanted to know a few things about them.

  Zoe tilted her head slightly, thinking about her response. “He is… wise,” she said. “A patient man, though he can be blunt when he deems it necessary.”

  “Blunt but patient,” Rowan mused. “Sounds like an interesting combination.”

  “It serves him well,” Zoe replied. “He has guided the people of Litwick for many years. And despite his position, he does not indulge in pretense.”

  Her answer only added to his curiosity. “And how is he supposed to help?” he asked. “With the whole me not dying business.”

  Zoe glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “I cannot say for certain,” she admitted. “But if anyone can offer you insight into your… unique circumstances, it would be him. Unless you wish for us to journey to another region?”

  “No.” Rowan shook his head. “There’s no need for that. I honestly doubt he’s going to have much to say about it at all. But you never know.”

  Rowan knew a fair bit about traits, having grown around more than a few people who had them.

  They weren’t all that rare in the grand scheme of things, but they weren’t common either. Some were as simple as having enhanced sight, while others—like Rowan’s and Zoe’s—offered advantages that were hard to put into words.

  “Hey, Zoe. You mind if I ask you something?”

  “No, I do not.”

  Rowan chuckled. “Alright,” he said, looking at her with a thoughtful frown. “How does [Soul Sight] actually work? I know there’s a spell that allows a person to see another’s soul, and I’m pretty sure there has to be a skill that does the same. But what’s it like having it as a trait? Is it always on? Does it tire you out?”

  To Zoe’s credit, she didn’t seem to mind his questions, and she actually took a moment to think through her answer.

  “To me, it is normal,” she finally said. “I have had it for most of my life. And while most would find my sight strange should they have the fortune of experiencing it, I have grown accustomed to it. Witnessing the embers that burn within has turned from trial, to comfort.”

  “That’s how you see them? Like burning embers?”

  Zoe nodded. “In most cases.”

  “And what about me?” Rowan tried to sound casual, but he had a feeling he’d failed.

  The question of his soul had been one that he’d spent more than a few nights thinking about. And now that he finally had a way to get answers, it was hard not to try and get them.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Zoe answered. “Your soul is obscured to me.”

  Rowan frowned, surprised by her answer. “Then how did you know it was me you were looking for?”

  “I felt it. Like a lead blanket draped over my shoulders,” Zoe looked at him. “Even hidden, ripples seep through.”

  I have no idea if that’s a good thing, or a very, very bad thing.

  On one hand, if Zoe couldn’t see his soul—even with [Soul Sight]—that meant his trait had some sort of protection against it. Which was definitely a good thing.

  But on the other hand, if she could feel it, that meant that whatever protections his trait had weren’t nearly enough.

  They fell into a comfortable silence again as they turned onto a narrower street, the spire of Eldara’s temple coming into view in the distance.

  Its silhouette loomed against the pale light of the morning sky, a six-pointed star carved into the stone above the arched entrance.

  The temple was smaller than Rowan had expected, its design unassuming compared to the grand cathedrals he’d seen in other cities. Yet there was a certain elegance to it, a sense of quiet strength in the simplicity of its structure.

  When they reached the wide wooden doors, Zoe stepped forward, pushing them open with little effort. The faint creak echoed through the still air, and Rowan followed her inside.

  The temple’s interior was dimly lit, the faint glow of enchanted lanterns casting soft shadows across the stone walls. Rows of simple wooden benches lined the main hall, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air.

  Zoe didn’t hesitate as she led him down the central aisle, her staff tapping rhythmically against the polished stone floor.

  Rowan’s gaze wandered, taking in the carvings along the walls—scenes of nature in all its forms, from lush forests to raging storms.

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  They passed a priest sweeping the floor. He nodded respectfully towards Zoe, and a little less respectfully towards Rowan—though still friendly—before returning to his work.

  At the end of the hall, Zoe turned sharply to the left, leading Rowan down a narrower passage that seemed to spiral deeper into the temple. The air grew cooler, and the faint murmur of morning prayers reached his ears, though he couldn’t make out the words.

  Finally, they stopped in front of a heavy oak door, its surface adorned with intricate carvings of vines and stars. Zoe raised a hand and knocked softly, the sound barely audible against the thick wood.

  A deep voice called from within. “Enter.”

  Zoe glanced at Rowan, offering him what he assumed was supposed to be a reassuring nod before pushing the door open.

  The room beyond was small and unadorned, a simple desk cluttered with scrolls in the middle and an assortment of herbs hanging from the ceiling.

  The man sitting behind it was older, his face lined with age but his eyes sharp and alert. He wore the green and gold robes of Eldara’s priesthood, though they were simple compared to the ornate garments Rowan had seen some other High-Priest wear.

  He looked up as they entered, his gaze briefly settling on Zoe before shifting to Rowan, a kindly smile on his face.

  “Ah, you are earlier than I thought,” he said at last, rolling up a scroll and setting it aside. “Good, good.”

  Rowan stepped forward, resisting the urge to fidget.

  “Please, sit down,” the priest said, gesturing at the only other chair in the room.

  After Rowan did that, he turned towards Zoe. “Remember, sister, there is a healing circle set for tonight. We would all appreciate you joining.”

  “I shall endeavor to be there,” she said, throwing one final look at Rowan before leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

  Suddenly, Rowan felt nervous. And even [Iron Will] wasn’t helping.

  He was in a room with a man he’d never met, expected to talk about things that he’d much rather keep to himself. His need for answers warred against his inherent hesitance, and the latter was slowly winning.

  Seeing Rowan’s expression, the kindly priest smiled and clasped his hands together, raising them to his forehead. “By Eldara’s name, and my vow as a Guide, I swear to keep your confidence.”

  His voice echoed across the room, the golden glow that illuminated his palms so brightly that Rowan needed to look away. Two chains wrapped around his forearms, holding them together before dissipating into ethereal smoke.

  “There,” the man dusted off his hands. “Now we can talk.”

  Rowan stared at him for a moment, unsure how to react.

  The vow certainly helped with his anxiety, but it was still there. Lingering in the background.

  I wonder what level of blessing he has, Rowan thought, scanning the priest.

  His eyes widened in surprise. Luster was only a third-circle blessing, coming after Glimmer and Glow. But it wasn’t the blessing that caught Rowan’s eye, it was the High Priest’s overall level.

  He's one of the highest leveled people in Litwick, Rowan realized.

  The Guildmistress was the only Gold-ranked adventurer in the city, and at Gold III, she was level forty-two. The only other person who could rival her was the mage advisor. A Yellow-Core mage with the tier-two Ice affinity.

  And he’s level forty-five.

  A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Something caught your eye?”

  Rowan shook his head, trying not to feel overwhelmed. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to be so…” he trailed off.

  “Strong? Dashing? A bit of both?”

  “Let’s go with strong,” Rowan chuckled, some of the tension draining away.

  The priest extended a hand. “It seems we’ve missed a few steps. My name is Aegar, High-Priest of Litwick and Guide of Eldara. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  Rowan took the offered hand. “Likewise,” he said, surprised by the hard calluses on the priest’s palm. “You can call me Jamis.”

  “Can I now?” Aegar smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I hope you know my vow extends beyond just skill choices and stat distributions.”

  Rowan suppressed a sigh. Is there something on my face that gives me away? Katrin I get. We’ve had more than a few drunk conversations. But this guy just met me.

  “I do,” Rowan replied. “But I’d still prefer it if you called me Jamis.”

  Aegar nodded. “Understood,” he said softly. “Now, what is it that you wish to talk about?”

  Rowan took a deep breath. Alright, I guess this is it.

  “My trait,” he answered. “I have questions, more than a few, and Zoe said you might have the answers.”

  “I may,” he said slowly. “Would you mind telling me what it’s called?”

  [Iron Will] flared as his nervousness grew, pushing it away. Rowan had decided to do this, and since he was already here, just walking away felt cowardly.

  If this man could help him understand even a fraction of his trait’s potential, he needed to take the risk.

  There was no telling when he’d have another opportunity like this. And while he could experiment on his own, that was a great way to blow himself up. Something Rowan would rather avoid.

  The blast after taking a single sip from that still sea was enough to kill seven Silver-rank monsters. To blow them away and splatter their bodies against the rocks like wet bags. It left him without access to his magic for a week, and right now, that wasn’t something Rowan could afford.

  He took another deep breath, letting his anxiety melt away.

  “It’s called [Immortal Soul],” he finally said, his voice steady. “It allows me to withstand a seemingly endless amount of soul strain, letting me progress my Core at a ridiculous pace. There’s more, but I think we can start with just that.”

  Hearing this, the priest’s hand froze mid-air. His eyes widened in genuine shock, and for a moment, he looked as if Rowan had said something utterly ridiculous.

  “I… I see,” Aegar muttered, his eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of concern and hesitance.

  “An [Immortal Soul],” he repeated, the words sounding almost foreign. “That is… quite a claim.” He paused, glancing at Rowan with a frown. “Forgive my reaction, but traits that deal with the soul are exceedingly rare. And for yours to be called Immortal…” He leaned back, fingers tapping against his knee. “I will admit, if what you say is true, the implications are… hefty.”

  Rowan snorted. “Oh, trust me. I know.”

  Now that he’d finally said it out loud, Rowan felt a calm settle over him. A weight falling from his shoulders.

  Aegar’s lips quirked up into a small smile. “I imagine you do.”

  He stood up, walking over to a corner of the room and taking two glasses. Aegar took his time pouring the water from a nearby pitcher, his brows furrowed in thought.

  When he came back and sat down, offering Rowan one of the glasses, his expression had shifted to a hesitant eagerness.

  “Alright,” he nodded slowly. “Let’s begin.”