Malek stumbled over a root, caught himself against a tree, and kept running. Somewhere behind him, claws scraped against bark as the damn thing closed the distance.

  Think, Malek, think. I've got maybe ten seconds before this thing tears my throat out. Ten seconds to figure out how a kid with zero combat skills survives a pissed-off direwolf.

  He risked a glance back. The wolf was smaller than the others—younger, probably—but it was slow and bleeding from a gash on its side.

  Blood dripped onto the forest ground, leaving a trail through the underbrush.

  It's injured. Maybe it'll pass out before it catches me. Maybe I'll get incredibly, stupidly lucky.

  Another root caught his foot. He went down hard. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and sent his bag flying. Glass vials and cloth pouches scattered across the ground.

  The wolf lunged.

  Malek's hand closed around something round. He didn't think. Just threw it.

  The clay ball shattered against the wolf's snout. Smoke erupted, The wolf yelped and stumbled sideways, pawing at its face with both front legs.

  Malek scrambled backward on his hands and knees, grabbing for another ball. His fingers shook so badly he almost dropped it twice.

  Come on. Come on. Just a few more seconds and maybe—

  The wolf recovered. It shook its head hard, eyes streaming with tears, and turned back toward him. Its lips pulled back in a snarl.

  Yeah. I'm dead. This is it. I'm about to die because I couldn't leave a glowing plant alone.

  ---

  Few Hours Earlier

  "So what do you want for your birthday?"

  Malek looked up from the book spread open on the kitchen table. His mother stood by the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled like onions and questionable meat. Her hair was tied back in a loose braid, and she had flour on her cheek from earlier.

  "I don't need anything," he said.

  "That's not what I asked."

  Elara sat across from him, chin propped on her hand. She was sixteen now, tall and lean with their mother's dark hair and a permanent look of mild exasperation. "He's going to say something boring like 'a new notebook' or 'more jars.'"

  "Jars are useful."

  "See?"

  Mira smiled, shaking her head. "You're turning twelve, Malek. That's not nothing. We should at least have a proper meal. Maybe invite the neighbors."

  "Please don't invite the neighbors."

  "Why not? They're nice people." Elara added with a smirk.

  Malek looked at Elara like she'd said something completely insane.

  Elara raised her fist. "Do you need another beating?"

  "No, please." Malek's body actually trembled, remembering the trauma from his early days.

  Malek closed his book. "I'm fine with just us. Really. Maybe some of those honey cakes from the market if we can afford it."

  "We can afford honey cakes," Mira said softly. She turned back to the stove, her shoulders a little tighter than before.

  Elara reached across the table and flicked Malek's forehead. "Idiot. You don't have to act like you don't want anything."

  "I'm not acting."

  "You're a terrible liar."

  He wasn't lying, though. He didn't care about birthdays. What he cared about was the bestiary he'd been reading for the past three weeks. Mira had borrowed it from Master Hendrick's collection. It cataloged monsters and magical creatures found in the surrounding regions, their behaviors, habitats, and most importantly, what materials could be harvested from them. Dense and technical, half of it went over his head, but every page he understood felt like unlocking a new piece of the world.

  "I'm going to the guild later," he said. "See if there's any work."

  Mira turned around, frowning. "On the day before your birthday?"

  "Money doesn't care what day it is."

  "Malek—"

  "I'll be careful. Mom.”

  Mira never liked the idea of Malek working at the guild, and he knew that perfectly well. Still, backing out wasn’t an option anymore. His earnings might not match what Mira brought home, but they weren’t insignificant either, they helped the household more than enough. (And, of course, he had his own personal reasons for starting so early.)

  It took ages to convince Mira to let him work at all, and in the end she only gave in after he pulled out his ultimate weapon—his natural cuteness, something that worked only on his mother.

  Elara gave him a long look. "You're going to push yourself until you collapse one day."

  "Not today."

  "That's what you said last time."

  "And I was right."

  She sighed and stood up, carrying her empty bowl to the basin. "Fine. But if you die doing something stupid, I'm not crying at your funeral."

  "Fair."

  ---

  Malek pushed through the guild door and immediately wanted to turn around. The place was packed. Adventurers crowded the request board, shouting over each other. A group in the corner was arm-wrestling for coin. Someone near the bar was singing off-key.

  The guild hall smelled disgusting.

  He squeezed his way to the board, wedging himself between a man in battered plate armor and a woman with a bow across her back.

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  Most of the requests were the usual. Escort missions. Monster culling. Package deliveries.

  Then he saw it.

  Herb Gathering – Moonlace Root (3 specimens required). Location: Graywood Forest, East Sector. Payment: 50 silver + 1 Alchemy Manual (Fundamentals of Alchemical Theory).

  Malek stared.

  Fifty silver was more than he made in two months. And an alchemy manual? Even the most basic ones sold for more than he'd earn in a year. He didn't have that kind of money. The mission was starting to look very, very tempting.

  But the catch was obvious. Graywood Forest's East Sector was deep wolf territory, where multiple packs lived.

  He'd been working as a freelance gatherer for almost two years now. His alchemist class gave him an edge most people didn't understand. It let him sense things about plants and materials that others couldn't. Where energy is concentrated in a root. Whether something was safe to touch. How to extract delicate reagents without destroying them.

  It was subtle. Most people didn't even realize he was using a skill. They just thought he was careful and got lucky.

  That edge made him valuable enough that parties would hire him despite his age. The guild wouldn't let him register officially, He was too young with Non-combatant class so he worked under the table. Parties would sign responsibility for him on low-risk jobs, and he'd tag along to gather materials they needed.

  The pay was garbage. Half what a registered adventurer would get, sometimes less. But Malek couldn't complain. Some money was better than none, and he needed money. Alchemy required materials’ herbs, minerals, catalysts, and all of it cost coins his family didn't have.

  This job, though. Fifty silver and a manual.

  He reached up and pulled the request off the board.

  "Thinking about taking that?"

  Malek turned. Garrett stood behind him, A man in his mid-thirties, broad shoulders, face covered in old scars. They'd worked together before. Three times, actually. Garrett ran a solid party and, more importantly, didn't treat Malek like dead weight just because of his age.

  "Maybe," Malek said.

  Garrett gestured toward a table in the back corner, away from the noise.

  "Let's talk.”

  ---

  The party was waiting when they sat down. Four people total.

  Garrett took the head of the table. Beside him sat Finn, the archer, lean, mid-twenties, with a grin that suggested he found most things funny.

  Across from Finn was Lyssa, the scout. Quiet, sharp-eyed, probably late twenties. And at the far end sat Corwin, the mage. Older, graying hair, the kind of face that always looked concerned about something.

  Malek had worked with them before on smaller jobs. They were good people. Except Finn. He was an asshole.

  Garrett gestured to the request form in Malek's hand. "So you're interested."

  "Maybe," Malek said, setting the paper on the table. "Depends on the details. Moonlace Root in East Sector. That's deep direwolf territory."

  "It is."

  "So why put up a request for a freelancer? You could hire any registered gatherer and get the job done safer."

  Finn snorted. "We tried. They all said no."

  Garrett shot him a look, then turned back to Malek. "Moonlace is fragile. Most gatherers either don't know how to extract it properly or they rush and ruin it. We've seen your work on the last jobs. You're careful and You understand plants."

  "And you're cheap," Finn added with a grin.

  "Finn," Lyssa said quietly.

  "What? I'm just being honest."

  Malek ignored him. "What about the manual?"

  Garrett pulled a worn leather book from his pack and set it on the table. The cover was cracked and faded, but the title was still readable: Fundamentals of Alchemical Theory by Master Aldric Thorne.

  Malek's chest tightened.

  He'd heard of Aldric Thorne. In Verant he was a well-known alchemist from two generations ago.

  "My grandfather's," Garrett said. "He was an alchemist before he retired. Book's been sitting in storage for years. No one in my family can use it."

  Malek reached out slowly and opened the cover. Diagrams. Formulas. Detailed explanations of reagent properties and principles.

  This wasn't some hedge witch's recipe collection. This was real knowledge.

  He closed the book carefully and looked up. "What's the real risk?"

  "Direwolves hunt in packs," Garrett said. "East Sector has two confirmed packs, maybe three. We'll be moving through their territory to reach the Moonlace zone. If we're quiet and fast, we can avoid them. If we're not..."

  "We fight," Lyssa finished.

  "And you want me there while you're fighting wolves," Malek said.

  "We want you there to do your job," Garrett corrected. "We'll handle the wolves. You handle the herbs."

  Corwin leaned forward. "I'll be honest. I don't love this. You're young. It's dangerous. But we need someone who can extract Moonlace without destroying it, and you're the best option we've got.”

  Finn grinned. "Also, if you die, we're not legally responsible since you're freelance."

  "Finn," Garrett said sharply.

  "I'm kidding. Mostly."

  Malek looked at the book again. Fifty silver. Real alchemy knowledge. Materials he could use for months.

  The risk was real. But the reward...

  "I'm in," he said.

  Garrett nodded. "We leave in an hour. East gate. Bring whatever you need."

  Malek stood and tucked the request into his pocket. "I'll be there."

  As he walked toward the door, Finn called after him. "Hey, kid. Try not to die, yeah? Paperwork's a pain."

  Malek didn't look back. "I'll do my best.”

  ---

  He went home first.

  His room was small and cluttered. Shelves lined with jars of dried herbs, powdered minerals, and half-finished experiments. A workbench in the corner covered in notes and diagrams. His bed shoved against the wall, barely used.

  He grabbed his bag and started packing. Small tools. Smoke bombs. Sneeze powder. His only real form of self-defense, and he'd learned to make them from an adventurer at the guild. The guy had been stingy with information until Malek bought him enough beer to loosen his tongue,cost him a week's worth of pay, but it was worth it.

  "Ahm."

  Elara leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "You're really doing this?"

  "Yeah."

  "The day before your birthday."

  "It's just a birthday."

  She sighed. "You're an idiot."

  "Probably."

  She walked over and handed him a small wrapped bundle. "Take this."

  He unwrapped it. Dried meat and bread. Enough for a day.

  "Thanks."

  She hugged him.

  "Don't die."

  "Ofcourse."

  —

  Graywood Forest was darker than Malek remembered.

  The trees were old, their trunks thick and gnarled, branches weaving together overhead to block out most of the sunlight. The ground was soft with moss and rotting leaves.

  The party moved in formation. Garrett at the front, shield strapped to his back. Lyssa ranged ahead, scouting. Finn and Corwin stayed in the middle. Malek brought up the rear, watching his footing.

  They'd been walking for over an hour when the forest started to change.

  Lyssa raised a hand.

  Everyone stopped.

  She crouched low, studying something on the ground. After a moment, she looked back and gestured Garrett forward.

  He moved up quietly. They spoke in low voices, too quiet for Malek to hear. Then Garrett returned.

  "Tracks," he said. "Wolf prints. Fresh, maybe an hour old. Big ones."

  "Direwolves?" Corwin asked.

  "Probably."

  Finn checked his bowstring. "How many?"

  "Hard to say. At least four, maybe more. They're moving through the area."

  Malek's stomach tightened. "Are we turning back?"

  Garrett shook his head. "Not yet. We're close to the Moonlace zone. If we're careful and quiet, we can avoid them."

  They moved slower after that. Lyssa stopped frequently, checking the ground, the trees, and listening. After another twenty minutes, Lyssa signaled again. This time she pointed ahead.

  Through the trees, Malek could see a clearing. And in the center, growing in the shadow of a massive oak, was a patch of Moonlace. The silvery veins glowed faintly even in the dim light.

  "There," Garrett said quietly. "That's what we came for."

  They approached carefully, spreading out at the edge of the clearing. Lyssa circled the perimeter, checking for threats. Finn kept his bow ready, scanning the treeline. Corwin stayed close to Garrett, staff in hand.

  Malek moved to the Moonlace and knelt beside it, pulling out his tool.

  "How long?" Garrett asked, his voice low.

  "Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if the roots run deep."

  "Make it fast. I don't like how quiet it is."

  Malek nodded and got to work.

  The root was delicate. He had to loosen the soil around it without disturbing the structure. Too much pressure and the veins would collapse. Too little and he wouldn't be able to extract it cleanly.

  His hands moved carefully, He could feel the plant's energy, concentrated in the root's core. Somewhere near the core Malek felt different energy"...odd." but he ignored it and continued his work.

  Behind him, the party formed a loose circle, watching the trees.

  Minutes passed.

  Finn leaned against a tree, arrow nocked but not drawn. "You always work this slow?"

  "You always talk this much?" Malek muttered without looking up.

  "Usually."

  Lyssa was crouched near the edge of the clearing, eyes fixed on something in the distance. "Quiet," she said softly.

  Finn straightened. "What is it?"

  "Movement. Northwest, maybe fifty meters."

  Garrett's hand went to his sword. "Wolves?"

  "Can't tell yet. But something's out there."

  The air felt heavier suddenly. Malek's hands kept moving, but his heart was pounding now.

  "How much longer, kid?" Garrett asked.

  "Five minutes. Maybe less."

  "Work faster."

  Corwin gripped his staff tighter. "Should we pull back?"

  "Not yet," Garrett said. "If it's just one or two scouts, we can handle it. But stay alert."

  The forest around them seemed to hold its breath.

  Then Lyssa stood up slowly, her daggers already in her hands. "We've got company."

  Through the trees, shapes moved. Low to the ground. Gray fur barely visible in the shadows.

  Wolves.

  ( Read Author note. )

  Moonlace is considered a mid–high tier low-category herb—not rare, but difficult enough to gather that its value stays consistent year-round.

  People want Moonlace primarily for one thing: stability.

  Most magical plants add power to mixtures, but very few plants can prevent reactions from exploding, spoiling, or mutating. Moonlace has a unique mana structure that calms unstable essences, making it one of the safest stabilizers available.

  This makes it invaluable to:

  Apprentice alchemists learning volatile recipes.

  Potion makers who deal with mana-reactive ingredients.

  Merchants who need potions to survive long travel.

  Adventurers crafting field kits or emergency tonics.

  Anyone dealing with magic that can “go wrong” wants Moonlace.