Master Vasilisa stirred from slumber to the unwelcome rhythm of pounding, each knock hammering its way into her dream of transmutation. Her feathered wings twitched, and a vein of indignation threatened to burst. It wasn’t the soothing hum of bubbling cauldrons or the crackle of alchemical flames lulling her just moments ago—it was persistent knocking on her chamber door.


    Who, in all the damned realms, dared disturb her precious little sleep? A quick glance outside confirmed it was still very dark. Whoever it was, oh, they were royally screwed.


    “What ungodly hour is this?” she growled, throwing off her blanket with dramatic flair. She shuffled into worn slippers and tugged on a threadbare robe that once boasted luxury but now resembled a relic of her busier priorities. Grumbling about the indignities of a master alchemist''s life, she shuffled toward the door like a storm cloud on legs.


    “This better be important,” she barked, yanking the door open to reveal a sweating servant, who looked as if he''d been run through several rounds of panic.


    “Apologies, Master Vasilisa,” the servant stammered, bowing his head. “But there’s been… something in the laboratory. I didn’t know what to—”


    “Spit it out, you dimwit!” she snapped, her crown of feathers bristling.


    “It’s just… there were noises—hisses and clinks—and someone was caught sneaking around in there.”


    Her brow furrowed. Caught? The vein of anger twitched again, and she let out an exasperated sigh. “What in all seven shades of hell are the guards for? Catch the bastard, chain them up, and toss them to the enforcers! Why am I being woken for this nonsense?”


    She made to shut the door on the quivering servant, muttering curses about the complete ineptitude of everyone under her command, when the servant blurted out, “It was one of your new apprentices! I thought you might want to see her before... something happens. The noises are... escalating.”


    Vasilisa froze mid-door slam, her irritation replaced by a budding scandal. One of the new apprentices? Oh yes, there were two fresh-faced fools sent her way on recommendation from the Bloodtide Sect. Had one of them truly dared to tamper with her precious reagents—or worse, swipe a few potions for personal gain?


    Absolutely. Appalling.


    Her reputation as chief alchemist could not afford even the whiff of apprentice treachery, especially with the Spirit Hunt Festival approaching. If word got out? She might as well faint on the spot. No, this needed handling—now.


    “Stand aside,” she barked, slamming the door in the servant’s face before emerging moments later, dressed in her usual blue robes. They were still somewhat regal, if one ignored the telltale red stain of yesterday’s alchemical overenthusiasm. She hadn’t the time to tidy her feathers, let alone fix her wild hair, but she could hope her presence at least hinted at authority.


    Good enough.


    Her boots clapped a thunderous rhythm on the marble floor as she stormed outside. The servant trailing her let out a breath of what could only be described as a relieved sigh—undoubtedly grateful that Varkaigrad’s most renowned chief alchemist had found someone else to bear the brunt of her wrath today.


    Moments later, Vasilisa descended the spiraling stone staircase leading to her labyrinthine, multi-tiered workshop. The cold nipped at her joints with gleeful malice, the snowstorm outside mocking her with every gust. It made her miss the warmth of her chambers, which in turn worsened her already sour mood, dragging an irritable curse past her lips. By the time she reached the third-floor main laboratory, her simmering temper had reached a rolling boil. Another icy draft greeted her as she entered, biting harder than an unpaid apprentice.


    Oh, someone was definitely getting their head bashed in today.


    A small crowd had formed near one of the junior workstations, drawing her sharp, narrowed gaze. Two guards stood there, mumbling to one another instead of, oh, she didn’t know, guarding. She mentally added them to her ever-growing “bash and fire” list. But the main attraction was unmistakable: a pale, ghostly figure hunched over a distillation apparatus at the heart of the commotion.


    It was a young Drakarri. Jade, yes, she remembered now—a wisp of a girl with phantom-white hair, bright crimson eyes, and all the telltale marks of the Bloodtide Sect. Jade’s slender hands moved with unnerving steadiness, adjusting the apparatus even as it hissed and sputtered in a way that should’ve sent anyone sane bolting for cover. Yet, there was a confidence in her movements that made the chaos seem almost intentional. Almost.


    “What in the name of every cursed ancestor is going on here?!” Vasilisa bellowed.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Mrs. Petrov, the ever-flustered lab assistant, spun around, startled like a mouse caught nibbling cheese. “Master Vasilisa! Wh-what are you doing here?!”


    “I’m here to deal with this insubordinate apprentice personally—then feed her to the damn Clawtails!” she snapped, jabbing an accusatory finger at Jade. The girl, annoyingly unruffled, didn’t even glance up from her apparatus.


    Mrs. Petrov waved her hands in frantic denial. “Rogue apprentice? No, no! Jade’s working! I told her to wait until morning, but she insisted it couldn’t wait. The reaction sparked a bit fiercely, spooked the guards, and they jumped to conclusions. Came to get me when they realized it wasn’t a thief. I tried to tell her to stop, but she said she’d only listen to you. I sent Vani for your word, not—” she gestured helplessly at Vasilisa’s disheveled state, “—not for you to come here looking like a ghoul! Nearly gave me a heart attack!”


    Vasilisa froze, her temper bristling. She hadn’t even needed to drag herself out of bed for this circus? She rounded on the servant who’d summoned her, their sudden pallor confirming they understood how thoroughly fired they were. Fired. Flayed. Exiled to shovel snow for Clawtails.


    But first things first. Vasilisa’s sharp gaze snapped back to Jade. “And you, girl,” she barked, “what in all the frozen hells do you think you’re doing, stirring up this gods-damned circus?”


    Beneath her recently preened feathers—still holding an air of smug vanity—and slitted green eyes, the master unleashed a glare that could strip paint from walls. Vaeriths were famous for those laser-beam stares, and Vasilisa was no exception, weaponizing hers.


    Jade, still cool, casually turned another dial on the apparatus before her. It hissed softly once again. “Master Vasilisa, I’m completing the refinement process for the quintessence extract you requested. The original method didn’t yield sufficient purity, so I recalibrated the ratios and extended the distillation time.”


    Vasilisa’s eyes widened—just a flicker—before narrowing again into suspicious slits. “You’re telling me you’ve been tampering with my recipe? The one I gave you earlier …today?”


    “I wasn’t tampering. I was optimizing,” Jade replied, finally meeting her master’s glare with her own piercing red eyes, fiery enough to thaw the chill in the room. “The mixture is stable, and I stayed within the safety parameters outlined in your lecture.”


    Vasilisa strode forward, her presence scattering onlookers like startled birds. She inspected Jade’s workstation with the scrutiny of someone convinced disaster was imminent. The apparatus, however, betrayed no chaos—pristine, orderly, and gleaming with care. Each component was in its rightful place, each transmutation script drawn with such precision it almost begged applause. The flask at the heart of the operation shimmered faintly silver—a telltale sign of a near-perfect extract.


    Her frown deepened. “Your reagent ratios are off,” she muttered. “The solution will precipitate impurities as it cools.”


    Jade nodded. “I thought so too, which is why I accounted for it.” She adjusted another component, drawing a sharp breath from Vasilisa.


    “What are you doing now, girl?”


    “Introducing a secondary filtration step with a controlled cooling gradient.”


    Vasilisa blinked. “A what now?”


    Jade didn’t bother explaining further. Instead, she carefully poured the shimmering solution through a fine mesh filter layered with activated charcoal. As the liquid emerged, crystal-clear and faintly luminescent, even Vasilisa’s hawk-like gaze softened—just a fraction.


    Vasilisa’s lips twitched, trapped between a frown and the ghost of a grudging smirk. “Adequate,” she finally muttered.


    Mrs. Petrov, who had been watching from the sidelines, threw up her hands in disbelief. “Adequate? The girl’s been slaving away all night, and you call that ‘adequate’? Admit it, Vasilisa—sometimes you could manage a better compliment than ‘adequate.’”


    Ignoring the interruption, Vasilisa turned back to Jade. “Why, pray tell, didn’t you wait until morning like a sane person?”


    Jade shrugged nonchalantly. “Why would I? I’ve always loved working at night. It’s quieter, easier to focus. Plus, didn’t you say in class today that the sooner I master maintaining the apparatus and perfect this extract, the sooner I could tackle something more… interesting?”


    The nerve of this girl! Vasilisa’s lips pressed into a tight line, the scolding bubbling just under her tongue. Yet, instead of unleashing it, she frowned. These tasks were intentionally crafted to be a nightmare—designed to scare off any apprentice lacking the spine or smarts to endure. Alchemy wasn’t for the faint of heart, and that was a hill she’d gladly die on. Most of her juniors didn’t even make it past their first experiment without crumbling like poorly made bread.


    But this one? Tackling Mana Ink’s core solution? It was supposed to take months to figure out! Vasilisa had deliberately left gaps in the theory—just enough to frustrate and force them to think for themselves. And this girl had patched them all up in one night.


    Granted, it wasn’t flawless. There were inefficiencies in her method—steps that could be streamlined, materials that could be spared—but the result was unmistakably pure. It was… unthinkable.


    Vasilisa’s sharp eyes roved over the concoction one more time before her thoughts strayed, unbidden, to her younger self: huddled over bubbling cauldrons in the dead of night, carving out a reputation in the cutthroat alchemical circles of Vraal’kor. Her brand, now a household name among the sects, had been built on sweat, sleepless nights, and sheer bloody-mindedness.


    “I just enjoy the challenge,” Jade said breezily, already reaching for a fresh batch of ingredients.


    Vasilisa grunted with reluctant approval. “Challenging… yes… an admirable quality.”


    She turned to the guards. “From now on, Jade will inform you before starting any late-night experiments. If she forgets, you’re to drag her back to her dormitory—by her ears if necessary.”


    The guards snapped to attention, though one looked visibly relieved at having a new plan to follow after their earlier blunder.


    As Vasilisa prepared to leave, she cast a final glance toward Mrs. Petrov. “Make sure this girl gets proper rest at least three nights a week. And fire that useless servant, Vani, for dragging me out here over nothing.”


    Mrs. Petrov smirked. “Of course, Master Vasilisa.”


    The master alchemist made her way back to her chambers, muttering under her breath.


    “A challenge,” she repeated, a rare chuckle escaping her lips. Feathers atop her head quivered with mirth. “A fucking challenge.” Her mood hadn’t been this light in months.