Fenix leaned on the stone wall, watching the infamous wizard in the Magic Tower’s backyard summoning a small water pixie. The sunlight highlighted the dark circles under Dillon's brown eyes as young fairies stared in awe at the magical display. “Show off,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Watch and learn, boy. The art of displaying your immense knowledge to the peasants,” Dillon announced dramatically. The water pixie floated above his outstretched hand, sprinkling droplets that made the children giggle.

“Peasants? Not everyone appreciates your sense of humor. Those are kids,” Fenix said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. The scent of blooming magical flowers filled the air, mixing with the earthy aroma of the tower's stone walls.

“What are you lazing around for? Go get me the ingredients on the list I gave you. Hurry, kid,” Dillon grumbled, waving him away.

“But I—“

“No ‘buts’. Go get me Mandrake roots for the healing potion.”

Fenix clicked his tongue and turned around. “And that, tots, is how you get rid of obnoxious pupils,” Dillon muttered with a grin.

“I heard that, old man,” Fenix drawled over his shoulder.

With a satchel over his shoulder and a basket under his arm, Fenix stepped into the mandragora field. The afternoon sun warmed his back as he knelt beside the first wiggling plant. “Just get in. I’m not in the mood today,” he gritted out, shoving the resistant mandrake into his basket.

A twig snapped loudly in the quiet. Fenix froze, his pointed ears twitching at the sound. He straightened quickly, scanning the perimeter. There, emerging from the forest's edge, stood a figure—you. His golden eyes narrowed into a glare.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” he asked sharply, his hand instinctively moving toward the small dagger at his waist.