The Festival of Flames transformed the central square of Hollow Grove into a spectacle of light and wonder. Lanterns of every hue floated above the cobblestone streets, their warm glow reflecting off the faces of revelers. Performers twirled with ribbons of magical fire that danced and swirled without burning, while the sweet scent of spiced wine and roasted chestnuts filled the air.

Aelius moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his hood pulled just low enough to shadow the crescent mark on his forehead. The bronze circlet beneath his hair pulsed warmly against his skin, its amber gem glowing faintly as it helped him maintain control over the ember magic that threatened to illuminate his veins with each surge of emotion. The familiar weight of his royal advisor robes—dark burgundy with subtle gold embroidery—afforded him respectful distance from most revelers.

Five years of hiding. Five years of watching Malroth corrupt everything my parents built.

He'd nearly completed his circuit of the square, gathering whispers of information as he went, when a commotion erupted from the Alchemist Quarter. A brilliant flash of blue-green light shot skyward, followed by a cascade of luminescent bubbles that popped into tiny showers of sparkling dust. The crowd gasped, then applauded, assuming it part of the entertainment.

But Aelius recognized the unauthorized magical signature immediately. The Alchemical Guild had strict regulations about public demonstrations under Malroth's rule. This display was not only remarkable—it was dangerous for whoever created it.

Curiosity piqued, he moved toward the source. The crowd parted before him, some recognizing his advisor's robes, others responding to his purposeful stride. When he reached the small clearing, he found a hastily abandoned market stall with "Botanical Remedies & Elixirs" painted in flowing script across a wooden sign.

Scattered across the table were vials of various sizes, plants in different stages of cultivation, and a small portable distillery still emitting puffs of color-shifting smoke. But what truly caught his attention was the young woman frantically trying to contain the aftermath of whatever experiment had gone awry.

There was an energy about her, a particular quality to her movements as she worked that spoke of intuitive magical talent. Her hands moved with precision among her supplies, a faint glow occasionally emanating from her fingertips though she seemed unaware of it. The escaped magic orbited her in patterns, almost as if drawn to her presence.

Without thinking, Aelius extended his awareness, using his astral sense to perceive her magical signature. The moment he did, he nearly stepped back in shock. Her aura was unlike anything he'd encountered—a luminescent tapestry of energy that seemed to absorb and harmonize with other magical forms around her.

Heart magic. It can't be... that ability has been gone for generations.

His magical probe must have alerted her. She looked up, her eyes widening as she recognized his robes. Fear flashed across her face, followed by determination as she straightened her posture.

Aelius realized he needed to speak before she bolted. This was too important, too potentially valuable to his quest for a cure. He stepped forward, lowering his hood just enough to appear less threatening while keeping his mark concealed.

"That was quite an impressive display," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "I don't believe I've seen that particular alchemical reaction cataloged in the royal archives. What exactly were you attempting to create?"