Evelyne Blaise pushed open the weathered oak door, its hinges protesting with a groan that spoke of age and disuse. The dim interior of Th'maine's cottage greeted her, a sanctuary cluttered with the detritus of arcane obsession. Shelves buckled under the weight of tomes bound in leather, parchment, and cloths of enigmatic origin, while curious devices of brass and glimmering crystal sprawled across every available surface.

The air hummed with latent magic, heavy with the scent of ink, parchment, and arcane dust. Motes of multicolored light drifted lazily through the air, casting strange shadows against the walls.

Evelyne let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head as she stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dusky light filtered through windows begrimed with the residue of countless experiments. She picked her way through the clutter, carefully sidestepping piles of books and scattered parchments.

A stack of tomes, meticulously piled, tottered as she brushed past, sending them tumbling to the floor. Evelyne paused for a moment to glance at the chaos she'd inadvertently caused, but quickly shrugged and continued on her way. She had neither the inclination nor the energy to clean up after Th'maine today; the old man could do it himself whenever he decided to emerge from the depths of his workroom.

At the rear of the room, a walled-off space of stone and wood housed Th'maine who sat hunched over a broad desk, his form shrouded in a voluminous, frayed robe that might once have been brown but now bore the patina of his craft—ink stains, singe marks, and the dust of crushed gemstones. His hair, a shock of grey untamed by comb or shears, cascaded around a face etched with the fine lines of concentration as he bent over a large tome, inscribing arcane runes in painstaking detail. His scraggy beard brushed the pages as he scribbled, leaving smears of ink behind.

"Maître Th'maine," Evelyne greeted, her voice a melodic echo in the crowded room. She waited for a response, and when none came, she let out another sigh. "Maître Th'maine." She repeated, a note of impatience creeping into her tone. "Maître Th'maine, you're ignoring me on purpose, aren't you? You know I don't enjoy being ignored, especially by an old curmudgeon such as yourself."

The old Arcanist froze mid-stroke, his quill hovering above the page.

A muffled grunt came from him before he lifted his gaze, pale blue eyes peering from behind strands of grey hair. The man's face betrayed no hint of surprise at her unannounced arrival. A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, creasing the wrinkled skin around his eyes.

"Ah, Evelyne." He returned the quill to its inkwell, closing the book before him with deliberate care. He laced his fingers, cracking his knuckles before leaning back in his chair, an audible pop echoing in the quiet. "Hrumph. The prodigal former apprentice returns to grace me with her presence. Did you grow bored of life in Valétour? When did you arrive?"

Sacré bleu. This damned old hermit has no concept of time.

Evelyne bit her lip, forcing back an annoyed retort. Instead, she affected a polite tone. "We settled into town eight months ago. Since you had never made the effort to greet us, all this time I never knew that you lived here until Engin happened to mention you at supper one night. He even showed me this place."

She approached the desk, picking her way through the clutter before resting her hip on the corner. She crossed her arms, regarding the old Arcanist with a level gaze. "So, imagine my surprise at learning that the mentor whom I haven't seen in years resides in Ebonheim and has, in fact, established residence on its outskirts. You, who disappear from the Council of Grand Arcanists without a trace—without so much as a letter or missive—only to show up in a remote village at the depths of a vale where civilization has yet to truly take root."

"Hmm..." Th'maine stroked his beard thoughtfully. "An unfortunate situation, indeed. It appears I've missed much during my research—wait, you said 'we'? Who else has traveled with you?"

"Those from Les Artisanats d'Éclair who had decided to follow me after the guild's exile at the behest of Divire." Evelyne's tone held a touch of bitterness as she spat the name. "Somehow, I thought you would have known. Yet, apparently, your research has kept you so engrossed that you've failed to notice anything outside your obsession."

"Indeed," Th'maine nodded absently, his gaze distant. "My research has kept me busy these days. Erm...I apologize for the oversight. So, how fare those who have joined you, young Blaise?"

Evelyne sighed again, shaking her head. "We're faring well. Though, you will have to inquire further if you want specifics. The decision to follow Roderick's advice and relocate to Ebonheim was the correct choice, despite our circumstances. It's isolated, yes, but our guildhall is thriving. In a way, the location has brought an interesting set of challenges to our doorstep."

"Good, good." Th'maine nodded, seeming pleased. "Perhaps I should visit sometime soon. It's been a long while since I've done research with other Artificers. While I have no complaints about the resources, inspiration from other perspectives always helps. And I trust you implicitly, Evelyne. If you've made Ebonheim your home, then the rest must be trustworthy individuals."

The praise elicited a genuine smile from Evelyne, and she uncrossed her arms.

Despite the old hermit's eccentricities, he had always treated her fairly and with respect, even when she had faltered or struggled during their apprenticeship together. "Merci, Maître. I appreciate the vote of confidence. And to answer your previous question, the others are well."

Her gaze wandered the cottage's interior, taking in the disarray of scattered papers, books, and tools.

Memories from her earliest days of apprenticeship floated to the forefront of her mind. Back then, Th'maine had tutored her and her fellow classmates in the arcane arts. As an apprentice, she'd eagerly learned everything she could, devouring knowledge of spellcraft and Magitech. The more complex, the better. The thrill of discovery and invention consumed her waking hours, and she worked tirelessly to hone her craft, eager to prove herself worthy.

While Th'maine had little to no patience for teaching the basics, he encouraged experimentation and exploration of the unknown. He'd shown no qualms in allowing Evelyne and her fellow classmates to work on projects that might not produce tangible results, provided that they understood the dangers involved and the safety procedures that must be followed.

She recalled, with a tinge of wistful humor, her first clumsy enchantment under Th'maine's watchful eye. The spell had been intended to animate a simple copper gear, but instead, it had sparked a pyrotechnic display that singed both eyebrows and dignity. Th'maine had merely laughed, his chuckle a gravelly sound that turned embarrassment into a shared joke.

"The brightest flames emerge from the wildest fires," she muttered aloud as her gaze continued roaming the cluttered workshop. "You always had a way of turning disasters into lessons, Maître. For that, I am grateful."

"Hmm?" Th'maine asked, cocking an eyebrow. "What are you muttering about?"

Evelyne's eyes met Th'maine's gaze as she shook her head. "Nothing worth mentioning, Maître. The past reminds me of what I've learned and the mistakes I've made."

Th'maine snorted, standing up from his chair and walking over to a shelf on the far wall. "Mistakes? Ah, yes. You've made plenty of them, girl. I believe I still have a record somewhere..." He trailed off, running his finger along the spines of numerous books, scrolls, and dusty journals. "Ah, here it is!"

"Y-you've kept a record?!" Evelyne sputtered, her eyes widening in disbelief. "For what purpose, Maître?! To embarrass me in front of others?"

She leaped from the desk and sprinted to his side. Her hands darted for the offending book, reaching out with slender fingers to grasp it, but Th'maine moved quicker than she expected. He grasped the tome and held it aloft, his taller stature keeping it just beyond her reach.

"Calm yourself, Evelyne," Th'maine chided, smiling down at her with a mischievous grin. "This record is purely academic in nature and serves as a reference for future apprentices. Nothing more. You are not the first, and certainly not the last, to stumble during their education in the arcane arts. So, allow your legacy to inspire others who will inevitably follow."

Evelyne flushed, her cheeks burning hot. "Mais non! They will think me incompetent! I can't—"

"Tut, tut," Th'maine interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "It takes strength to admit one's own imperfections. Now, where was I?" He flipped through the pages, stopping at one entry near the back. "Ah, yes. Here's an amusing one—the time when you accidentally transmuted a chunk of metal into a gelatinous blob and proceeded to feed it to your cat."

He chuckled at the memory as he read from the page while Evelyne desperately attempted to retrieve the tome from his grip. Her fingertips barely grazed the edges when he stiff-armed her back, maintaining his height advantage as he continued reading in a loud voice.

"Unfortunately for the poor animal, the blob refused to be ingested, causing it to expel the indigestible lump moments later, depositing an unholy mass of metal-infused excrement in front of its shocked master. The stench lasted for weeks afterward, permeating the entire laboratory, and left Master Th'maine with the difficult task of convincing the council members that an entire batch of refined arcane dust hadn't been ruined by a spoiled alchemical solution."

Th'maine's eyes twinkled with amusement as he closed the tome. "A messy, disgusting, yet educational episode for all involved, wouldn't you agree?"

Evelyne, face still crimson with shame, narrowed her eyes and scowled. "That's not how I remember that incident."

"Oh, do elaborate," Th'maine encouraged.

Evelyne exhaled loudly. "My recollection involves a pile of solidified refuse and an unrepentant cat covered in filth, followed by the necessary steps to clean up both. But yes, the lesson about proper use of arcane materials in conjunction with alchemy was also interesting, despite the accompanying smell."

"Indeed, but then, you've always been a fast learner. In any event, the world's full of risks, Evelyne. It's always wise to document failures as well as successes."

He tucked the book under his arm, retrieving a smaller journal from a pocket within his robes. It was worn from use, the binding cracked and discolored by oils and liquids spilled in its use. "Speaking of which, my current research on the Akashic System is at a critical juncture, one in which I have a unique opportunity to either succeed or fail spectacularly."

Evelyne blinked, taken aback by Th'maine's casual mention of one of the greatest mysteries of arcane research. "Truly? You've made progress on the Akashic System?"

"Aye, that I have. Thanks to Ebonheim's invaluable assistance." He opened the small journal and thumbed through its pages. "Through her, I've gained more insight into aspects of this governing force that were previously unimagined."

His brow furrowed as he frowned at a passage. "Alas, I've reached a bottleneck. One in which I lack sufficient knowledge or skill to proceed."

He handed the journal to Evelyne, who accepted it and scanned its contents.

The notebook contained notes, sketches, and diagrams of magical circles and esoteric symbols. Some, she recognized, but many more eluded her. It seemed like gibberish to her untrained eye, a mishmash of concepts and theories beyond her understanding.

Evelyne shook her head, handing the journal back to Th'maine. "I'm afraid I can't decipher your findings, Maître."

"As expected." Th'maine tucked the journal away within his robes once more. "It would take a significant amount of time to comprehend the extent of this research, assuming one possessed the ability to grasp the fundamentals in the first place."

He let out a deep, weary sigh, his expression tired. "Alas, I fear I might not live long enough to see this project through to completion. Age catches up to us all, Evelyne. Despite what rumors you've heard or insinuations that may have arisen, I'm no immortal spirit like Ebonheim. Mortality still weighs heavy on my soul."

"And yet, you push yourself beyond what's considered sane by any standards of the Arcane Council." She shot him a sharp look. "The hours you spend researching and experimenting are not healthy, Maître. Your labors have always been your lifeblood, but lately, you've been sequestering yourself in your cottage. If it weren't for Engin, who visits you on occasion and brings fresh food and supplies, you'd likely have died from neglect by now."

Th'maine laughed, a short, dry bark of amusement. "That is why you will always remain one of my favorite apprentices, Evelyne. Your blunt, direct approach has always made my ears ring with honesty. My point, however, remains unchanged. My body continues to decay and I have neither the energy nor the desire to find ways to counteract my impending demise."

The Arcanist gestured around him at the cluttered workshop. "But I will finish my research. I cannot bear to leave my work unfinished. Too much effort has gone into this, and I will not see it go to waste."

"Oui, oui. Je comprends." Evelyne nodded in acknowledgment. "If there's one thing I remember, it's that you don't like leaving your projects incomplete, whether it's a minor assignment for a class or a major undertaking. You always made sure that you accomplished everything before moving on to the next objective."

Th'maine grunted, stroking his beard. "Then, you understand my current dilemma. The only remaining variable is finding someone who can carry on my work when I have departed. Someone capable of deciphering my research and completing the project."

Evelyne hesitated as his words sank in. "Me?"

Th'maine gave her an appraising look while waving the book that he'd placed under his arm earlier. "You have always demonstrated a keen intellect. Few could compare to your aptitude for absorbing knowledge and applying it to practical application. Even less possess an intuitive understanding of how various forms of magic interact."

"I—" Evelyne started to say before Th'maine held up a hand to cut her off.

"Additionally," Th'maine added, "you are currently head of Les Artisanats d'Éclair, meaning that your skill exceeds most in Ebonheim, barring myself of course."

Evelyne frowned, unsure of whether or not the statement was a jest.

"As a bonus, you possess the determination to succeed and do not shirk in the face of adversity. You will need both qualities if you choose to accept this task."

"You speak as if you've already decided," Evelyne observed, raising an eyebrow. "I'm already quite busy with managing the guild and handling new requests."

"There's nothing that says you can't delegate duties to the other Artificers in Ebonheim." Th'maine countered. "And if you choose to decline my proposal, you could always pass the torch along to your offsprings if you ever marry and bear children."

Evelyne's eyes widened in indignation, and she inhaled sharply. "Excusez-moi?!"

"Do you intend to remain a spinster forever, girl?" Th'maine scoffed, waving away her outrage. "I assure you, you are quite a catch. It wouldn't do for an attractive Artificer of your caliber to die alone and forgotten. Although if that is what you wish, I suppose I can't prevent you from becoming a shriveled, old crone—"

Evelyne interrupted. "Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. This conversation has suddenly derailed! Besides, if anyone here resembles an aged crone, it's you. You've become positively cantankerous in your dotage, Maître."

"What choice do I have? My youthful vigor has faded. Where I once ran swiftly, now I hobble with great effort. Alas, that is the curse of humanity. Our lives are fleeting. Those who learn to cherish their existence experience greater fulfillment than those who do not." Th'maine smirked at her. "You are the exception, of course, Evelyne."

Evelyne groaned. "Maître, if you're attempting to convince me to assist you with your research, I would highly suggest choosing a different tactic. At this rate, I'd prefer you drop dead right now rather than continue listening to your rambling. Besides, why didn't you have any children? That way, one of your offspring could inherit your work instead."

"I do have children, Evelyne. Five of them. And eight grandchildren." Th'maine waggled his eyebrows, enjoying her discomfort. "You thought I was some kind of crazy recluse? A perverse old codger who forgoes love for science? Perish the thought, child."

"Oh, I hate you," Evelyne growled. "Please, just drop this matter, Maître. If you persist in continuing this farce, I'm liable to explode, and you'll be stuck cleaning up my remains!"

Th'maine's lips curved in an impish grin. "You used to be a lot more fun than this, Evelyne. Have you not tasted the delights of passion recently? Why, I'll bet several folks from Ebonheim would jump at the chance to court you if given a chance. Do you really desire to spend the remainder of your life alone, without someone to share your warmth with on a cold winter's night? How lonely..."

He tapped a finger to his chin, pretending to ponder. "Ah, perhaps you favor women? Or both? The world does tend to balance itself out that way. No matter the race or gender, a soulmate exists for everyone. So, who's caught your fancy, hmm? Care to enlighten me?"

Evelyne planted both hands on her hips. "Sacré bleu, I'm not discussing romance with you, Maître!"

"Are they a man?" Th'maine pressed.

"No!"

"A woman then?"

"N—non..." Ebonheim's image flashed briefly in her mind before she could suppress the memory. Her cheeks flushed crimson again at the recollection of her attraction.

Th'maine smirked as if he'd deduced the truth from her reaction. "Hmmm, interesting...is she intelligent? Attractive?"

"What?" Evelyne spluttered. "Non, non, non! Stop asking such ridiculous questions! That's irrelevant!"

The old Arcanist let out a raucous guffaw, slapping his thigh in merriment. "Your stubbornness knows no bounds, girl. But you've always been a terrible liar when it came to matters of the heart. Remember that boy you were fond of in your early days of training?"

"Don't bring that up! I regret ever telling you!" Evelyne covered her face with her palms, fighting back the urge to scream. "Argh! Why am I even listening to this?"

"Why, indeed," Th'maine mused. "So, who is the lucky girl who has caught your eye, Evelyne? Surely, you must tell me."

"I won't. Non. Not gonna happen," she replied curtly.

"I suppose I can start listing off all the women that I've come to know during my time in Ebonheim," Th'maine stated, appearing thoughtful. "It wouldn't take much to find out who your heart yearns for if I so desired."

Evelyne bristled. "You wouldn't dare!"

She needed to leave, now! Before—

"Wouldn't I?" Th'maine grinned, amused by her reaction. "For this experiment, I'll start with a control. Let's see...Ah! How about Ebonheim? Does that strike a nerve?"

Evelyne froze, her mouth hanging open. Her blush deepened, spreading to the tips of her ears—the heat rising from her skin grew tenfold.

"N—non..." Evelyne stammered, red-faced as her thoughts went wild with vivid imagery.

Th'maine's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets as he took in her mortification. The book tumbled from his grip, landing with a dull thud on the floorboards. "I, um, hit the mark already? Didn't expect that."

Evelyne's composure evaporated in a heartbeat. She sank down upon her heels and buried her face in her hands, emitting a low moan of embarrassment.

She wanted to crawl under a rock and disappear.

Th'maine coughed nervously. "She...she caught your interest, eh? Hrm...Yes. Um. Well, there's nothing wrong with that. I'm sure everyone in Ebonheim has...erm...a certain fascination with her, ah, personage. Why, I've even overheard many of the guards fantasizing about her during their daily rounds. So, it is a common interest, after all." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Not that I join their ranks, of course."

"Nnnghhhhh!" Evelyne moaned into her hands.

"Anyhow," Th'maine continued, clearing his throat again, "all kidding aside, Evelyne. Yes, you can count on me for discretion in this matter. I do understand the complications involved between a mortal and a god. Speaking of which, does Ebonheim know of your affections for her?"

Evelyne slowly lifted her head, her face pale with embarrassment. "A-are you insane?!"

"Hrm? I suppose that would complicate matters if she doesn't return your feelings," Th'maine remarked thoughtfully. "But, I highly doubt that's the case, seeing how friendly and generous she is to everyone. You're a beautiful young lady, Evelyne. Many men would line up and beg for your hand in marriage. However, it seems that your tastes lay elsewhere. What exactly attracted you to her, if you don't mind sharing?"

Evelyne drew in a shaky breath. "Je ne sais pas. It's not a specific trait that I can pinpoint, Maître. It's everything about her."

"Her beauty, her kindness, her gentle touch? Her carefree mannerisms and bubbly personality? Her curiosity toward the world, and the sense of wonder and adventure she embodies?" Th'maine raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

"Oui."

"Quite an admirable answer." Th'maine nodded approvingly. "One could almost fall in love with her just hearing such words, though I'm certain her charms run far deeper than that. In any case, back to the business at hand. What will you do about my research, Evelyne?"

"What, so suddenly?" Evelyne looked startled. "I thought we were discussing romance, Maître!"

"There's still a matter at stake here," Th'maine reminded her. "I did ask a serious question before getting sidetracked. Answer me, and I promise not to tease you further."

"I don't...really...have an opinion yet." Evelyne sighed. "I have too many other pressing concerns."

It was Th'maine's turn to let out an exasperated sigh. He bent over to pick up his book from the floor, tucking it under his arm. "Fine, fine. I still have a couple more decades to live, as far as I can guess. Take your time and think on it. I'll ask again once you've had some space to breathe and think clearly. Hopefully, by then, you'll have arrived at a reasonable conclusion. In the meantime, try not to let your heart run wild with fantasies. Best to keep such things strictly platonic and professional in public. She's a goddess, after all, and you're only human."

"Merde," Evelyne muttered, closing her eyes as she massaged her temples. "I feel exhausted from just talking to you, Maître. I swear, it's worse than arguing with a wall of stone."

"Guilty as charged." Th'maine smiled wryly, scratching at his beard. "Now, unless you plan on helping me tidy up this mess, I'd appreciate it if you left. My research waits, and I have little time to spare. Besides, your presence disrupts my focus."

Evelyne let out a loud, frustrated growl, glaring daggers at the old Arcanist.

"Ughhhhh! Fine! Au revoir, Maître, but don't say a word to anyone about my personal feelings for her."

"I've already promised to maintain confidentiality in regards to our discussion regarding your love life," Th'maine confirmed. "Although I think you underestimate my resolve. Rest assured, your secret is safe with me."

"Bien," Evelyne grumbled as she stomped out of the cottage. She slammed the door shut behind her, and the hinges rattled in protest. Her footsteps echoed loudly against the flagstone path as she stomped toward the forest.

Outside, birds sang their songs high in the branches overhead while sunlight streamed through gaps between tree leaves, casting dappled patches of light upon the ground below. The sweet scent of wildflowers permeated the air, carried on a gentle breeze.

Yet, none of these natural splendors soothed Evelyne's mounting ire. She swore under her breath as she hurried through the woods.

"J'en ai assez de ces vieilles conneries!"