Chương 131: Those Seeking Home

James was still holding the superhero pose to show off his new clothes when Maude said they had visitors. For one absurd breath, the entire workshop seemed to pause around that fact. James stood straighter as the weavers' laughter faded into the glowstone-lit warmth. Mira's smile slipped. Harlon straightened. Ida's eyes sharpened with the speed of a woman who had lived long enough to know that joy was often interrupted by boots at the door. Maude stood in the entrance, framed by night and soft glowstone light.

James at once noticed one very important detail; she did not look frightened or worried. James adjusted his cloak and then nodded to the weavers and followed Maude out into the cool dark. The air outside hit him through the warmth of the new clothes, but the Silkbloom silk held the chill at bay. That alone almost distracted him. The high collar hugged his neck softly. The boots gripped the damp path.

The cloak settled around his shoulders with a weight that felt less like costume now and more like something Hearthroot had placed on him. They headed toward the west gate. Mana fireflies drifted between the buildings in golden clouds, thicker near Heartroot's hill and along the paths where people walked most often. The village had quieted for the night, though a few distant sounds still moved through it. Farther away, the mountain glowed faintly where the Civic Keep blueprint wrapped the slope in colored lines.

James looked at it, then at the surrounding forest, and felt a small, practical concern settle in his stomach. A shining magical construction project on a mountain did seem like the sort of thing the world usually punished. He glanced at Maude.

"What's their deal?" he asked.

"Should I be worried?" Maude whirled the staff once in one hand. It was smooth, casual, and so practiced that James almost missed how impressive it was. The weighted ends passed through the air with a soft hum, then settled upright beside her boot.

"No," she said.

"I think they were guided here by the Guiding Flame of the Circle." James's thoughts immediately scattered into numbers. Beds. Space in the new longhouse. Marla's reaction if he woke her after the conversation they had only just had about letting things go. James rubbed a hand over his face as another thought arrived, entirely uninvited. The Circle had waited until the new dwarven longhouse was finished before guiding more mouths toward them. That felt deliberate enough to make his stomach tighten.

Then there was the larger question waiting beneath all the practical ones. This might be the first wave of Hearthroot's southward choice. It might also be something older and stranger, walking toward his gate under the shelter of the Guiding Flame. Then he noticed Maude watching the path with a thoughtful crease between her brows. Maude had become good at reading trouble. James slowed half a step.

"All right. Spill it." She looked at him.

"My lord?"

"Are they dangerous? Suspicious? Spies? Flesh-eating monsters wearing human skin? A swarm of sentient beetles in cloaks? Three goblins stacked on each other pretending to be a priest? Tax collectors?" Maude stopped walking for half a heartbeat and stared at him.

"My lord," she said carefully, "that was a bit too much."

"I like to prepare broadly."

"No." She shook her head and resumed walking.

"They are just… weird." James frowned.

"Weird how?" Maude looked toward the west gate, where glowstone light shimmered between the wall and the trees.

"You will see." That was extremely unfair. It also made him much more interested. The west gate came into view through the soft darkness, and James felt an immediate flicker of satisfaction despite the uncertainty waiting beyond it. The heavy doors stood half open, newly installed timber dark under metal bands, and the stoneheart wall around the gate glowed with blue crystal-like veins. A week ago, that opening had felt like a gap. Now it felt like a guarded mouth. Rogan stood near it with several wardens.

The wardens were arranged in a loose semicircle around the visitors, close enough to control the space, relaxed enough to avoid turning the situation into an accusation. Their glowstones hung from belts and spear loops, each one fed with a little mana, casting soft light over the new, wary faces. James noticed with a quiet pulse of pride that the glowstones had become part of their normal kit. Another tiny change. Another piece of Hearthroot becoming prepared instead of merely lucky.

Then he noticed a brighter glow hovering in the air. Lumen. Of course. The familiar zipped toward James the moment he appeared.

"Oh, James," Lumen said, shining with delight, "we have new villagers." James glanced at Maude.

"Maude says they are weird." Maude looked faintly embarrassed. Lumen bobbed in the air.

"Oh, they are weird all right. That is a very good thing. Most people are boring in their normalcy, while some are gems waiting for the right shelf. These ones will help the village very much." James's curiosity sharpened. Rogan noticed his approach and turned, giving a shallow bow that still looked awkward on a man built more for glaring at danger than courtly habits.

"My lord," Rogan said quietly. His eyes moved once over James's new clothes, and some unreadable approval passed across his face before duty covered it.

"We checked them for weapons. A few knives. Tools more than blades. Nothing else we found."

"But?" James asked. Rogan hesitated.

"I cannot say they are harmless. Some of them have magic. I think." James rubbed his hands together before he could stop himself.

"Oh. I can't wait to meet them." Rogan's expression turned solemn. He looked toward the semicircle.

"From what I gathered, they are wandering folk. They found each other on the road, more or less, and kept together for safety." His mouth tightened.

"They were only passing through the forest. Then something pulled at them, and they followed it here." James, Maude, and Rogan exchanged a look. Lumen spun in a little circle.

"The Circle, of course." Rogan cleared his throat.

"We considered keeping them in the training yard until morning. Many beds are empty with the mountain rotation. Once we saw what we were dealing with, it seemed better to call you. Sorry for dragging you out." James groaned.

"Oh, come on. You are all being mysterious and vague on purpose." Rogan fought a smirk. James saw it and narrowed his eyes.

"You too? Fine. Let's go." He stepped forward and let the green cloak flare more dramatically than necessary. The wardens parted. The newcomers looked up. James's first impression was dust. It clung to them everywhere, ground into hems and boots, caught in packs, settled into tired faces. These were road people.

James could tell from the way they kept their belongings close, from the patched clothes that had been mended with whatever cloth came to hand, from the bedrolls and straps that looked handled a hundred times a day. Some sat on benches brought from the guard post. Others had chosen stones, folded cloaks, or the ground near the glowing stoneheart wall. Then details came into focus, making the strangers even stranger.

The largest group looked strange because they were alike in the way a handful of seeds from the same field might grow into different plants. Some stood as tall as humans. Others were short as dwarves. A few had pointed ears and narrow chins. Others carried broader noses, compact shoulders, or gnomish quickness in their eyes. One had delicate elven cheekbones with farmer's hands. Another was sturdy, brown-skinned, and wide through the chest, with softly rounded ears and hair tied in a practical knot.

Seventeen in all, James counted quickly, each watching him with large, uncertain eyes. Lumen's voice softened.

"Halflings." James searched his scattered memories from Earth. Halflings meant small folk in old fantasy books, second breakfasts, bare feet, and occasionally world-changing jewelry. Vaelrin, as usual, had taken a familiar word and made it much more complicated.

"Mixed ancestry," Lumen murmured near his ear.

"Old mingled bloodlines. Human, elf, dwarf, gnome, and sometimes older strands. Some are born into families that cherish them. Many are treated as inconvenient proof that boundaries were crossed. They quickly learn to be useful, to take whatever work is offered and prove their place before anyone decides they are too strange to keep. They adapt. They endure. They find one another when their first homes fail them." James looked at the seventeen halflings again.

He saw timid expressions, tired eyes, and the quiet posture of people who had already prepared themselves to be turned away. Hearthroot would have halflings one day. The thought came suddenly and with unexpected weight. Humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, fairies, maybe more. People living together, building together, falling in love, making families.

His mind flickered toward Selathi before he could stop it, toward her smile by the Sanctuary, the way she had brushed hair from his eyes, the warmth of her mouth against his. Something tender and terrifying opened in him for a heartbeat. Then one of the larger men near the wall shifted. James noticed the stone. At first, he had thought the man wore some kind of rough gauntlet or shoulder guard. Then the glowstone light caught the surface properly, and James realized the rock grew from him.

Grey plates jutted from one shoulder blade and ran down his arm in uneven ridges, merging with skin near wrist and elbow. Beside him, another man had stone growths from biceps to forearm, darker and smoother, like river rock beneath flesh. A woman had pale granite-like lines along her collarbones and wrists. A broad youth had slate patches across his cheeks, making his face look like it had been gently claimed by the earth. Seven of them. James tried very hard not to stare with his mouth open.

Lumen sounded delighted enough to make up for James's silence.

"Stonekin. I remember them. Although back then they looked much less human. They came from strong earth elementals and mortals. Some were enormous, with bodies half covered in stone and voices that made caves hum. The Cataclysm thinned so many old bloodlines, or scattered them until only fragments remained. These ones carry the old earth in quieter form, but I can feel it. All seven have earth-aspected mana and have awakened earth magic." James's mind briefly emptied. Earth magic.

Seven people with earth magic, arriving a week after Hearthroot began carving a civic keep into a mountain. Lumen continued, almost smug now.

"Miners. masons. guardians. earth mages. stoneworkers. If trained and treated well, they may become invaluable. The Circle has excellent timing." Near the stonekin stood a woman who drew James's eye for an entirely different reason. Her skin had bark-like patterns along the arms, neck, and cheeks, delicate brown lines like the grain of young wood. Her hair was green, dark at the roots and bright toward the tips, threaded with leaves that looked grown rather than woven.

She held herself with wary pride, one hand near the strap of her pack, chin lifted even as exhaustion pulled at her eyes. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Lumen perked.

"Oh. Another kind of halfling, in a sense. Groveborn Dryad. Mortal blood touched deeply by grove spirit. Some are children of dryads and humans or elves. Others are born near ancient groves where plant mana is strong enough to leave marks before birth. Bark-pattern skin, leaflike hair, strong plant affinity, and freedom from full spirit binding." The dryad watched him watching her. James quickly looked away before he made everything worse. A voice from the back cut through the quiet.

"So. Are you going to talk, or simply stare at us all night?" James turned. The speaker looked almost human. Dark hair, lean build, sharp eyes, perhaps somewhere in his twenties. Beside him stood a woman so similar that James immediately thought sibling. Same mist-grey eyes. Same narrow face. Same guarded posture. Same dark hair, though hers fell in a braid over one shoulder while his was tied carelessly at the nape of his neck. Mana Resonance told James there was something else beneath the human surface.

Havlik stepped forward from the warden line, his voice firm.

"Careful how you speak to our lord." James lifted one hand.

"Havlik, it's all right." Lumen drifted closer.

"Mistborn. They have water magic, James. They appear almost human, though in fog or rain their edges blur. You have no idea how lucky you are tonight. Earth magic, water magic, nature magic, and among the halflings I can sense at least one with life magic awakened." James nodded faintly. He stepped farther into the glowstone light and gave the newcomers a smile that he hoped landed somewhere between welcoming and sane.

"I am known to make things awkward most of the time," he said.

"I can't help it. I am intrigued by new things, fascinated by magic, and curious about people I have never encountered before. So I apologize for staring, and I officially welcome you to Hearthroot Village." The newcomers remained wary, and James could hardly blame them. He clasped his hands behind his back before he started rubbing them together like a villain presented with rare materials.

"Are you planning on staying," he asked, "or simply visiting?" One of the halflings rose slightly from the bench. He was tall for his group, muscular in a compact way, with pointed ears, a square jaw, and hands that had seen years of work. His eyes were distrustful, but his stance placed him between James and several of the smaller halflings without making a show of it.

"Why are you asking?" he said.

"Are you offering to have us?" The words carried too much history. James heard it. Rogan probably did too.

"Well," James said, "I don't know about you, but I am starving. I barely ate all day. Why don't you join me?" The newcomers looked at one another. Food did what speeches rarely managed. Suspicion remained, but hunger moved through the group in small ways, a swallowed breath, a glance at a child-sized pack, a hand resting on a belly, a stonekin woman closing her eyes for half a second as if the idea of warmth had struck her harder than the offer itself. The halfling man nodded slowly.

"All right." James hid a smile. Marla would be proud. He turned toward the wardens.

"Maude, Garrick, go tell the cooks we have company." Maude nodded. Garrick, who had been standing near the gate with one hand on his sword and his green cloak wrapped tightly over his shoulder, hurried with her toward the Hearth Hall. James was not naive. He knew nothing about these people beyond what Lumen sensed and what the Circle likely intended. They had magic. They had traveled hard roads. They were scared, guarded, and possibly dangerous if cornered.

He needed wardens in the Hearth Hall without making it look like a trap. Several of the newcomers noticed the glance between him and Rogan anyway. Their eyes narrowed. James could guess why. Groups like this learned patterns: the kind word first, then the meal, then the locked door, the demand, and finally the price. A small group of wardens followed as they began walking toward the Hearth Hall, loose enough to be polite, close enough to be useful. James sensed Bren already inside, along with a few others. Good.

Very good. They had not gone far when the path opened toward Heartroot's hill. The newcomers stopped. All of them. The Heartroot Tree rose above the village, glowing softly in the night. Its bark shone pale white, threaded with gold, and its leaves stirred in slow waves of red and gold. Mana fireflies drifted around its branches like sparks that had forgotten how to fall. The hill beneath it seemed larger from the west path, the roots curving into earth as if the tree held the village in place with gentle hands.

James stopped with them. The halflings stared with awe and fear. The stonekin went still in a way that felt almost devotional. The dryad's expression broke open, pain and wonder moving together across her face. Even the sharp-tongued mistborn man said nothing. His sister's lips parted slightly, and for the first time since James had seen her, her guarded expression slipped. Lumen's voice was soft.

"Heartroot is telling them more than you can." James let the silence breathe. After a while, he said quietly, "That is Heartroot." No one answered. They continued only when the halfling man moved first, one step, then another, as if tearing his gaze away required effort. The Hearth Hall welcomed them with warmth. Marla had already gone to sleep, thankfully, though James suspected she would still somehow know by breakfast that he had brought nearly thirty people in after midnight.

The remaining cooks had been warned by Maude and Garrick. They moved quickly, bringing out stew, bread, roasted roots, leftover flatbread, cheese, Sunberry sweets, pitchers of ale, and warm herb water. The visitors sat cautiously. James took a place at one table with Rogan and Havlik nearby. At another table, Bren, Maude, Garrick, Renn, and Inna sat together. They had plates in front of them. Some were eating. Some were doing an excellent job pretending to eat while keeping eyes on the room.

Inna looked half asleep until one noticed that her hand rested near her weapon and her gaze moved whenever a visitor shifted too sharply. Everyone pretended the arrangement was casual. Everyone understood it was not. The meal began awkwardly. Then the food did its work. One halfling woman took a bite of enchanted bread and stared at it as if it had put to shame every previous loaf she had ever eaten. A stonekin man spooned stew slowly, closed his eyes, and sat very still.

Jasmine touched a Sunberry sweet, sniffed it, tasted a corner, then looked genuinely surprised by the discovery that something so small could be that good. The mistborn brother tried to appear indifferent, but took a second piece of bread with the speed of a thief and the dignity of a cat pretending it had planned everything. The cooks offered second helpings. That softened the room more than James could have done with a speech. Conversation came slowly after that.

The halfling man introduced himself as Tovin Greenstep. The older woman beside him, with silver-threaded brown hair and clever eyes, was Osa Thistlehand. The rest came in pieces: Pellin, Bram, Nettle, Lio, Ferra, Senn, Willow, Dovan, and others whose names James repeated carefully, knowing he would need help remembering them all by morning. Tovin spoke for the halflings at first.

"We travel," he said, one hand resting near his bowl.

"Work where there is work. Farms, orchards, kitchens, harvest roads. Breweries if we are lucky. Some places let us stay a season. Some let us work and then remind us we were never welcome." Osa's mouth tightened.

"Some families keep halfling children if they look close enough to one side. Some hide them. Some send them out before the neighbors speak." A younger halfling near her stared into his stew. Tovin continued, voice steady through practice.

"The seventeen of us became family over years. Roads do that when villages do not." James felt anger move slowly through him. He kept it banked. These people did not need his outrage performed over their bowls. One of the stonekin spoke next. He was the largest, the one with stone plates running down his arm. His voice was deep, slow, and rough, like rocks moved along a riverbed.

"Kon," he said, touching his chest. He gestured to the others in turn.

"Kor. Nop. Ros. Brel. Sha. Tun." Each name landed like a stone placed deliberately on a table.

"People see stone on skin and think curse," Kon said.

"They are afraid. Some throw us out. Some want work, hard work... Stone work usually, then they pay less than what was promised. And then there are others... those that want pieces of us." James's hand tightened under the table. Kon lifted his stone-marked arm slightly.

"Charms. Wards. Luck stones. They think breaking stone from us gives them strength." Rogan's face had gone dark. Havlik's jaw clenched. Kon spoke without drama, which somehow made it worse.

"My kind is rare. Most live alone or in pairs. We prefer a quiet life, hidden from the world. Danger made us gather. Kor and I found Tovin's people first. Then Ros and Nop on the old road. Then Sha, Tun, and Brel after a quarry camp turned bad."

"Turned bad?" James asked gently. Kon looked at him for a long moment.

"We left before knives came." Silence sat heavy. Then the dryad spoke, introducing herself as Jasmine. Her voice was soft, almost dry, like leaves brushed together.

"My mother's grove stood west of here, though farther than I could walk back from memory alone. She was dryad-born. My father was human. The grove tolerated me when I was young." Her fingers traced one bark-patterned line along her wrist.

"I aged too quickly for them. Needed food too often. Slept too deeply. Loved the trees, but could leave them. When rot touched the outer roots one spring, some said my mortal blood had brought it. The elder named my exile mercy." She looked at the Sunberry sweet still resting near her bowl.

"They gave me a pack, a knife, and a blessing that tasted like relief." No one spoke for a moment. Then the mistborn brother leaned back, as if the room had grown too heavy and he disliked that.

"I am Cael Mistmere," he said.

"This is Liora." His sister inclined her head.

"We left by choice," Cael added.

"Before anyone decides to give us tragic eyes. Our village was boring." Liora gave him a flat look.

"We wanted to see more of the world. Cael wanted to impress three girls and prove he could survive a famous road."

"Two girls," Cael said.

"Three."

"One was impressed already."

"She was impressed when you left." James hid a smile. Cael ignored him with effort.

"We found goblins. Adventure became less charming after that. We joined this lot because they had numbers and Kon can punch a tree hard enough to make goblins flee in terror." Kon nodded once.

"Small trees." That earned the first real laugh from the travelers. It was brief, but it changed the air. James waited until the food and warmth had done a little more work before asking what had burned in his mind since the gate.

"You have traveled a lot," he said.

"What can you tell me about other settlements?" Several faces turned wary again. He lifted both hands slightly.

"We have very little information about the wider area. Hearthroot has only recently made contact with the nearest settlement. Anything you know helps us understand where we are." Tovin stared at him.

"You live here and do not know?" James grimaced.

"That is unfortunately accurate." Osa studied him, then answered before Tovin could decide how suspicious to be.

"Most settlements we know are north of the Eldergloom Forest or beyond its edges. Inside it, places are small. Hidden hamlets, hunter camps, old family compounds, logging camps that move when the trees start fighting back." James blinked.

"Wait. Eldergloom Forest?" Tovin frowned.

"You do not know the name of the place you live?" Osa looked between them, baffled, then continued.

"Eldergloom. Ancient magic clings here. Old groves filled with ruins and beast dens. Roads bend around the deeper parts. Most sensible people avoid it unless desperate, or foolish." Rogan muttered, "That sounds about right." James elbowed him under the table. Rogan did not even pretend innocence. James gave him a look.

"Most of us came to the forest recently." Liora leaned forward.

"How recently?"

"A few months." The newcomers stared at him. Several of them looked around the Hearth Hall again, slower this time. James could almost see them measuring the warmth, the food, the stonework, the wardens in green, and Heartroot's glow spilling through the southern arches. Their silence carried the accusation clearly enough. A few months, and you have this? Why lie about something so obvious? James sighed and pushed on before the conversation drowned there.

"You said most settlements inside the forest are small. Are there any nearby that are larger?" Osa nodded slowly.

"I have been to one west of here. Near the Briarwold Reach. Thorn valleys, old briar woods, tangled paths. The village is larger than yours in people, I think. Wooden palisade. Orchard terraces. Good hunters. Little open magic." She glanced toward the fireflies outside, then toward the distant glow of Heartroot.

"They do not have magic like this. Nor walls like yours." James felt pride rise embarrassingly fast. He shrugged, attempting casual dignity.

"We had to make them strong. As you said, this forest is full of danger." Rogan's mouth twitched. James ignored him. Tovin took over.

"Largest settlement we saw was Highmere Ford, north by the Varrow River." Several halflings stiffened. Osa looked down. Tovin's expression hardened.

"It was a human town. Trade crossing, mostly. Warehouses, carts, people passing through with coin in their pockets and guards watching every road." He rubbed his thumb along the edge of the table.

"They let us in because the harvest needed hands. That was all. Rooms cost twice as much once they saw us. Work paid half what they promised. And everywhere we went, someone was watching us, especially every time we came near the stores. Like rats near grain." One of the younger halflings scoffed bitterly.

"Rats eat better there." Tovin's jaw worked.

"We left before winter. South seemed better. We heard rumors of the Golden Plains and a city called Aurellion. Big. Rich. Open to strangers." James perked up.

"Aurellion. How far? What kind of city? Who rules it? Trade roads? Temples? Walls? River?" Tovin stared at him. Mara blinked. Cael smirked. Tovin finally said, "We heard big, rich, and open to strangers." James deflated.

"That's it?"

"That was plenty when we were cold." Fair. James turned toward Cael and Liora.

"What about you?" Cael's eyes narrowed.

"What about us?"

"Your village. Is it far? Are all mistborn like you?" Both siblings froze. The room sharpened around that word. Cael's hand tightened around his cup.

"You know what we are?" James gave him a bland look.

"Yes." Rogan sighed quietly beside him. Subtlety had never been James's strongest stat. Cael studied him, then said, "Our village is small. Some like us live there. Most are human."

"Is it far?" Cael's face closed. He said nothing. Rogan leaned forward, his voice gruff but calm.

"I know he seems eager. He means no harm. He is excited to learn our village is not alone in this forest." Liora looked at Rogan, then at James. Something in her eased a fraction.

"About a month away," she said.

"Maybe more, depending on rain and whether one avoids the deeper groves. West, near the forest edge. Close to the Blessed Hills." James straightened.

"Blessed Hills?" Cael's mouth curled.

"They call them blessed because the soil is fertile." James's face fell. Nop, one of the stonekin with slate patches on his cheek, turned to Rogan with genuine curiosity.

"Why does he act funny?" Rogan laughed. Then he dropped the truth like a stone in a still pond.

"He is not from Vaelrin. He came here only a few months ago. His home had no magic, no spells, no elves, and certainly no stonekin!" The travelers stared. Osa's spoon paused halfway to her mouth. Cael's smirk vanished. Jasmine looked at James with sudden, searching intensity. Kon leaned back slowly, stone plates scraping faintly against the bench. James rubbed the back of his neck.

"Heh. Yes. That." Havlik gave him an encouraging nod from the side.

"He has gotten used to everything quickly." James nodded solemnly.

"Thank you, Havlik." Havlik beamed. Tovin stared at James as if reassessing every word he had spoken.

"So you told the truth earlier? This village is only a few months old?" Rogan chuckled.

"You should have seen this place when we first came. You would not recognize it." The newcomers looked around again. This time the disbelief carried a different flavor. A village only months old. A village inside Eldergloom. A village that had stone walls, fairy lights, magic bread, and a lord from another world who stared too much and fed strangers before interrogating them properly. James saw enough for one night. They were full, tired, overwhelmed, and badly in need of sleep. More questions could wait.

Safer questions and maybe, just maybe, better questions. Questions asked after Irla checked them, after Marla judged the food situation, after Rogan decided where wardens should stand, after morning light made everything feel less like a story told by a fire. James placed both hands on the table and stood.

"I want to say this clearly," he said. The room quieted.

"You are welcome here. Rest tonight. Sleep safely. Tomorrow we can talk more. If you want to stay, we will discuss what that means. If you want to move on, we will help with food and directions if we can." The travelers stared at him. Some looked doubtful. Some looked terrified to believe him. Some looked down at their bowls because hope was easier to manage when one did not look directly at it. James turned to Rogan.

"Take them to the new longhouse if there is room. Use the training yard beds for the rest if needed." Rogan nodded.

"Aye." James smiled at the visitors.

"Goodnight. I'll see you tomorrow." He left before anyone could ask him another question he was too tired to answer intelligently. Outside, the night felt cool against his face. James walked slowly toward his longhouse, his new boots quiet on the ground. Lumen floated beside him.

"Did you notice?" James yawned.

"Notice what?"

"The Circle brought you new villagers. People born with magic. The Guiding Flame does not simply drag every lost traveler to your gate. Hearthroot has become resonant enough to call those who fit its growing shape. Stonekin with earth magic as you carve a mountain. Mistborn with water magic as the Wellspring and Sanctuary deepen. A Groveborn Dryad while Heartroot and the fairy grove flourish. Halflings who need belonging in a village made of many peoples. Several of them have unlocked elemental magic.

The level of ambient magic here made this possible." James nodded, though his eyelids felt heavy.

"The stonekin especially," Lumen continued, warming to the topic.

"A true find. Old bloodline. Rare. Altered after the Cataclysm. With training, they could change your quarry, your keep, your walls, and perhaps even future earthworks. If they choose to stay, you should..."

"Lumen," James said, yawning again. The familiar paused.

"I am tired. Hold the lecture for tomorrow." Lumen bobbed.

"You always say that before the important lectures." James kept walking toward the promise of a bed.

"Then it can be important after sunrise."