The announcement came at the end of the morning drills. The Forgeborn gathered in the yard knew what was coming the moment Instructor Halrek stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, wearing the faint smile of a man who was about to ruin several people’s day and was looking forward to it.
“Form up,” Halrek called. “I’ve got a few announcements.”
No one spoke at first. Then the murmuring started.
“Told you it would be this week.”
“Already?”
“I’m not ready for this…”
The quiet comments rippled through the trainees as people shifted their stance and straightened unconsciously.
Halrek waited, letting the murmurs run their course before the yard gradually fell silent again.
“As most of you have already guessed,” he said in a voice that carried easily across the courtyard, “the next dungeon cycle begins in three weeks.”
A murmur passed through the assembled trainees. Kael glanced across the gathered trainees and saw a range of reactions. Some looked impatient, almost giddy with anticipation, while others had gone noticeably pale, as if the announcement confirmed something they had been quietly dreading.
After the morning’s team drills, Kael took his place within Team Seven’s loose formation and watched the reactions around him with quiet interest. The announcement had been expected, of course. The program followed its cycles with the reliability of a clock. Training blocks, evaluations, dungeon exposure and recovery. Then back again.
Predictability was comforting in its own way.
Still, even expected events carried weight.
Halrek continued speaking while the murmuring gradually subsided.
“The structure remains unchanged from previous cycles. Three teams per week will conduct dungeon runs. Two of the closer dungeons can be reached within half a day’s travel, allowing for descent and return within the same day. The third dungeon lies further out and will require a full day of travel before entry.”
He paused, scanning the assembled trainees with the practiced gaze of someone who had spent years measuring young fighters for signs of readiness or panic.
“Details regarding the rotation schedule will be distributed later. For now, assume the standard rotation. The strongest teams go first, the weakest go last. The first teams may choose to delve without a safety net for better rewards. The last ones will have double the supervisors.”
Dren leaned slightly toward Kael without breaking formation.
“Welcome to dungeon delves.”
Kael kept his eyes forward.
“I appreciate your optimism,” he replied quietly. “It adds color to an otherwise predictable situation.”
“Someone has to keep morale high.” Dren said.
“Don’t worry, we’ll protect you.”
A few rows ahead, Lira shifted her stance and rolled one shoulder as if loosening muscles that had not yet been asked to work.
“Three weeks,” she said under her breath. “That’s not much time.”
Selene, standing beside her with her hands folded neatly behind her back, did not look particularly concerned.
“It is sufficient time,” she replied calmly. “Assuming the training continues at its current pace.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Lira muttered.
Halrek raised one hand and the courtyard quieted again.
“Before the dungeon cycle begins, we will hold the annual tournaments.”
Now the reaction was immediate.
The murmur returned, louder this time and threaded with something unmistakably energetic.
Halrek waited until the sound died down again.
“There will be two events. One individual tournament and one team tournament. Both serve the same purpose they always have. They allow the instructors to evaluate your progress in a controlled environment while also giving the rest of the compound something entertaining to watch.”
A few of the younger trainees grinned openly at that but Halrek ignored them.
“The individual tournament will take place first. The team tournament will follow immediately afterward. After the tournaments conclude, the compound will enter a one-week recovery period before the dungeon runs begin.”
Dren tilted his head slightly.
“A whole week off,” he whispered. “I’d forgotten they still did that.”
“Recovery periods improve long-term performance,” Kael replied quietly. “Also, if they do not occasionally allow us to stop training, more trainees will collapse and quit than usual.”
“Your faith in the program is inspiring.”
“It is mostly an observation of human nature.”
Halrek finished the announcement with a final sweep of the courtyard.
“Use the next three weeks wisely. Training intensity will increase. Those of you who have been coasting will find the next phase uncomfortable. Dismissed.”
The yard erupted into movement.
The disciplined quiet of the announcement dissolved instantly into a wave of voices, speculation, and nervous excitement.
Dren stretched his arms over his head.
“Well,” he said, “that explains the mood in the barracks last night. Half the compound was pretending not to be excited.”
“Pretending?” Lira said dryly as she approached. “You were pacing around like a dog that smelled dinner.”
“That’s because dinner is good.”
“You say that about everything.”
Dren shrugged.
“Most things deserve it.”
Selene glanced toward Kael.
“You appear calm.”
“I am calm. Life is simpler when one assumes that unpleasant events will occur eventually,” Kael said. “That way they rarely arrive as a surprise.”
Dren laughed.
“That’s the most depressing philosophy I’ve heard all month. Sometimes I swear you’re the older one, not me.” “I find it practical.”
The conversation drifted for a moment as the teams began dispersing across the yard. Some trainees were already debating tournament strategies while others were speculating about which dungeon their squads might be assigned first.
Kaelen approached quietly from behind them, as he tended to do, his pale eyes moving across the courtyard as if cataloguing everything at once.
“Individual tournament will be interesting,” he said.
“Planning to win?” Dren asked.
Kaelen shrugged.
“Planning to learn.”
“That sounds like something someone says before stabbing half the bracket.”
Kaelen’s mouth twitched faintly.
“That is also a possibility.”
The group shared a brief moment of quiet amusement before the courtyard dissolved into movement again as trainees began drifting toward their barracks or the mess hall.
Off to the side, Kael caught sight of Toren among the trainees of Squad Three, gesturing wildly as he laughed about something, the small crowd around him clearly enjoying the story.
-
The afternoon bell sounded just as the trainees were filing toward the lecture hall, the low bronze tone rolling across the compound with the unhurried certainty of something that had been doing the same job for generations even if the manor is new. Most of the Forgeborn adjusted course automatically, drifting toward the long stone building where Master Thelan conducted the academic portion of their training. Books, equations, and carefully structured lessons waited inside, which meant that roughly half the trainees looked relieved and the other half looked like they had just been sentenced to an afternoon of slow torture.
Kael fell into step beside Toren and Selene as they crossed the courtyard.
“Academic class,” Toren said with exaggerated resignation. “My favorite time of day. Nothing warms the heart like sitting quietly while someone explains why numbers exist.”
“You say that like numbers personally offended you,” Selene replied.
“They did. Repeatedly.”
“Numbers do not possess agency,” Kael said mildly. “They cannot offend anyone.”
Toren glanced at him. “That sounds like something someone who likes numbers would say.”
“I do like numbers.”
Toren shook his head. “I saw.”
“You are aware,” she said to Toren, “that Master Thelan can hear you even when you think he cannot.”
Toren froze mid-step.
“…You’re joking.”
Selene tilted her head slightly.
“I did not say that.”
Toren immediately lowered his voice.
“I feel like he should have warned me about that.”
“The program has warned you about many things,” Selene said dryly. “You simply choose not to listen.”
They reached the stone steps of the lecture hall just as the other trainees began filing inside. Kael paused near the doorway, scanning the room out of habit, before turning toward Master Thelan.
“Master Thelan,” he said politely.
The instructor looked up from the stack of notes he had been arranging on the lectern. His eyes moved briefly over Kael.
“Yes, Kael?”
“I would like to request permission to be excused from this afternoon’s lecture.”
That earned a few curious looks from the nearby trainees.
Thelan raised an eyebrow.
“An unusual request.”
“I intend to work on unlocking my final foundational skill.”
Thelan’s expression shifted slightly, the faintest hint of interest appearing behind the usual scholarly composure.
“I see.”
The instructor considered him for a moment before nodding.
“Very well. Your academic performance has been… satisfactory enough that missing a single lecture will not cause irreversible intellectual damage.”
“Thank you.”
“Do not waste the opportunity.”
“I will do my best not to squander it.”
Thelan waved him away with a faintly dismissive gesture.
“Go, then. And if you succeed, I expect a full explanation of your process later.”
“I suspected that might be the case.”
Kael stepped back out into the courtyard while the rest of the trainees filed inside. The heavy doors closed behind them with a dull thud that left the compound strangely quiet.
He took a moment to stretch his shoulders before heading toward the eastern courtyard, the same small training yard where he had worked through the first stages of the exercise with his father the previous day.
The place was empty at this hour, which suited him perfectly.
No interruptions meant fewer variables.
Kael settled onto a flat stone bench beneath the shade of an old oak and pulled the small booklet from his satchel.
Dain had not arrived yet, and Kael saw little reason to waste the time.
The thin volume had been written by some long-forgotten healer whose primary goal had clearly been explaining the basics of mana-assisted regeneration to people with significantly less patience than Kael possessed.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The core concept was simple.
Most regeneration skills worked through visualization.
A practitioner focused mana on an injured area and imagined the body knitting itself back together. Flesh closing. Bones mending. Blood vessels reconnecting. The body responded to the directed mana by accelerating its natural healing processes.
Effective, elegant andin Kael’s opinion, somewhat crude.
He flipped through a few pages of diagrams showing simplified drawings of muscle tissue slowly sealing itself under a glow of carefully directed mana.
The booklet described the process as if the body were repairing damage in large pieces.
That, Kael suspected, was the limitation of the typical approach.
Humans liked thinking in large shapes because large shapes were easy to imagine.
The body did not operate that way. Leaning back slightly, Kael closed his eyes and considered the process more carefully. If you wanted to accelerate healing, the real work happened at a much smaller scale, where cells divided and replaced damaged tissue while coordinating through chemical signals that told them when to grow, specialize, and stop. Injury triggered entire cascades of microscopic responses—platelets sealing broken vessels, white blood cells clearing debris, stem cells activating to rebuild what had been lost. Regeneration was not a single event but a complex orchestra of countless tiny processes working together.
The booklet described extremely advanced mana manipulation techniques, yet its understanding of the body itself felt surprisingly crude—at least from the perspective of Kael’s modern medical knowledge.
Thank you, modern education, he thought dryly. Well… private education, technically. Still, all those biology and genetics lessons might finally pay off.
Kael suspected there was a more efficient way.
Kael considered the problem for a moment, then reached down and picked up his practice sword. A small injury would make the exercise easier. Practicing regeneration without a visible target to heal added unnecessary complexity.
He nicked the tip of his finger with the edge of the blade, just enough to draw a thin bead of blood.
He inhaled slowly and began circulating mana through his channels with the practiced rhythm Mana Conditioning had drilled into him over the past weeks.
The first attempt failed almost immediately. The mana spread too broadly, following the familiar pathways of reinforcement instead of the delicate patterns he was trying to build.
Kael exhaled, adjusted the flow, and tried again. This time the movement was slower, more careful, the mana guided with far greater precision than anything Mana Conditioning required.
He closed his eyes and focused entirely on the internal pattern he was trying to build, guiding the mana thread by thread through the delicate structure described in the booklet. The work demanded complete concentration. Gradually the courtyard, the wind, even the faint sounds of the compound faded from his awareness as he lost himself in the process of shaping the flow correctly.
Time passed unnoticed.
Only hours later did the pattern finally settle into place, the mana locking into the precise structure he had been struggling to construct.
When Kael opened his eyes again, the light had shifted noticeably across the courtyard. Something else had changed as well.
A folded piece of parchment rested on his lap.
He blinked, mildly surprised, and unfolded it. The handwriting was unmistakably his father's.
Kael,
I came earlier, but you were already working on the exercise and appeared rather… committed to it. I chose not to interrupt. Come see me after the evening meal. I would like to discuss the process with you, particularly where you managed to acquire that bump on your head.
—Your father
A second line had been added at the bottom.
P.S. Please be more careful about where you decide to enter full internal focus. It already nearly cost you your life once, and apparently taught you very little. There is always a chance something unpleasant could swoop down from the sky—even in the manor courtyard.
Kael folded the note thoughtfully.
Yes, repeating the same mistake twice within the span of two months was, by any reasonable metric, rather stupid.
He made a mental note to choose his locations more carefully in the future, then stood, went to find something to eat, took a quick bath, and later resumed the exercises in the privacy of his room.
-
With the basics of mana manipulation and guiding established, the next step came into play.
Visualization—that was the key element. Most practitioners imagined wounds closing like torn fabric, but Kael tried something different—he imagined the cells themselves, billions of them working together to rebuild the damage. He pictured a single cell dividing cleanly into two identical copies. The splitting of its internal structures. The duplication of its internal blueprint. The precision of a process that had been happening inside living bodies for hundreds of millions of years.
Mana flowed toward the imagined process.
At first nothing happened, which Kael had expected—the System rarely rewarded a first attempt. He noticed the small cut on his finger had already begun closing, a minor oversight on his part, and nicked another finger to give the exercise a proper target. Then he adjusted his breathing and refined the visualization, imagining cells dividing and tissue replacing itself layer by layer.
Microscopic repairs happening thousands of times each second.
Instead of pouring mana into a large imagined wound, he directed it toward the tiny biological processes themselves, encouraging and supporting them while accelerating the natural rhythm of cellular division without disrupting the body’s overall balance.
It felt… different, more precise.
The mana did not spread outward the way it had during earlier attempts at simple healing visualization. Instead, it seemed to sink inward, threading through the smallest imagined structures.
Interesting.
Kael focused harder.
If standard regeneration treated the body like a damaged wall that needed patching, then this approach treated it like a living system constantly rebuilding itself from the inside out.
Cells divided, proteins assembled, and DNA copied as old tissue gave way to new. The body was never static; it was constantly rebuilding itself, and mana could encourage that process to happen faster.
Then Kael added another layer to the pattern. Instead of simply accelerating regeneration, he guided the mana to reinforce the newly formed cells as they appeared, strengthening their structure and stability. In his mind the effect drew on the same principles represented by his Vitality and Constitution attributes—at least as he imagined those forces expressing themselves within the body. The result was subtle but deliberate: tissue that did not merely replace what had been lost, but returned slightly sturdier than before.
The moment of recognition came suddenly. The System liked patterns, especially those that aligned with existing biological processes. A faint warmth spread through Kael’s chest, deeper than the usual circulation of mana.
Then the familiar translucent prompt appeared at the edge of his vision.
Kael opened his eyes slowly.
“…Well,” he said aloud.
That had worked faster than expected.
[Skill Acquired: Cellular Renewal Matrix (Epic)]
[A regenerative framework that enhances the body’s natural repair mechanisms by improving cellular efficiency and stability. All regenerative processes cost less energy and occur more efficiently. Newly regenerated cells are briefly reinforced through a vitality-linked enhancement. The strength of this reinforcement scales with Constitution, while its duration scales with Vitality.]
[Current Effect: Minimal. Enhancement strength negligible. Duration: a few seconds.]
Kael studied the window for a moment.
That might be the longest notification the System has sent me so far.
His eyes lingered on one particular word. Cellular.
That was… English. (Yes, English. Normally he’d think in French, but the story is written in English for you readers. Let’s call it a translation convenience.)
Which raised a more interesting implication. The local language didn’t even have a word for structures that small. Apparently no one in this world had pushed healing far enough to reach that level of understanding.
Kael reviewed the sensation carefully while the system window remained visible. Unlike traditional regeneration skills that simply generated healing energy, Cellular Renewal Matrix seemed to function by dramatically increasing the efficiency of the body’s microscopic repair mechanisms. Instead of producing mana for healing, it reduced the cost of every regenerative process already happening within the body.
Cells divided faster, damaged tissue was replaced more quickly, and even minor injuries repaired themselves with startling efficiency.
It was not explosive healing but a steady, constant improvement.
Kael flexed his fingers experimentally, curious to see how the new skill felt in practice.
The result was… immediate.
Pain shot through his right hand.
“—Ow!”
His middle and ring fingers swelled almost instantly, the joints stiffening as if someone had quietly replaced them with angry sausages.
Kael stared at them.
“Well,” he muttered. “That seems sub-optimal.”
He rotated the hand cautiously. The joint protested with a sharp pulse of pain.
Right. That was probably not supposed to happen.
The System window still hovered faintly in the corner of his vision, looking entirely unconcerned with the fact that its proud new Epic skill had apparently decided to rearrange his fingers like poorly assembled furniture.
Kael examined the swelling with the resigned expression of someone who had spent far too many years solving problems the hard way.
Alright, diagnosis.
During the skill formation he had pushed the regeneration concept down to the microscopic level. Faster cell division, accelerated tissue repair, increased metabolic efficiency… all perfectly logical improvements.
The only small oversight being that he had apparently convinced his body to start repairing things that weren’t actually broken yet.
Which, as it turned out, could cause complications.
The fingers pulsed again.
“Yes,” Kael sighed. “That one’s on me.”
He stood up, grabbed the small booklet from the bed, and headed for the healer’s quarters before the rest of his hand decided to join the experiment.
-
The healer was not surprised to see him.
She looked up from a tray of instruments as he entered, one eyebrow rising slightly.
“Back again, Lord Kael?” she said. “What have you done this time?”
Kael raised his hand.
The swelling had improved slightly during the walk, but it still looked like his fingers had recently lost a disagreement with a hammer.
The healer leaned closer, gently turning his hand under the light.
“Hm.”
That was not an encouraging hm.
“What were you experimenting with?” she asked.
“Regeneration.”
Her eyes flicked up at him.
“At seven?”
“Ambition is a terrible disease,” Kael said gravely.
The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself.
“And how exactly did this happen?”
“I may have… pushed the regeneration a little too far on a perfectly healthy part of the finger.”
She stared at him for a moment.
“That sentence should not come out of a child.”
“Yet here we are.”
The healer sighed the long, patient sigh of someone who had chosen a profession that involved dealing with ambitious idiots.
“Sit.”
Kael did.
She placed her hands gently around the swollen joints and let a faint pulse of mana flow into the tissue. The sensation was cool and precise, like someone quietly reorganizing a cluttered desk inside his hand.
“Nothing serious,” she said after a moment. “You forced the growth pattern too aggressively. The tissue tried to reinforce itself and overshot.”
“Ah.”
She pressed lightly against the joint. Something shifted with a soft pop, and the pain faded immediately.
“There,” she said. “Better?”
Kael flexed his fingers. Perfect.
“Much.”
The healer gave him a sharp look.
“Next time you attempt to redesign your body, warn someone first.”
“I’ll try to schedule it more politely.”
She wrapped the hand briefly in a thin band of glowing mana, sealing the adjustment.
“You’re lucky,” she added. “Another hour and the swelling might have locked the joint for a few days.”
“That would have been inconvenient.”
“For you,” she said dryly. “For me it would have been paperwork.”
Kael slid off the bench.
“Thank you.”
She waved a hand dismissively.
“Go. And if the rest of your body starts doing anything creative, come back before it gets worse.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Outside, Kael flexed his hand once more as he walked back toward the dormitory.
The fingers moved smoothly now.
He glanced at the System notification again.
Epic Skill Acquired: Cellular Renewal Matrix
Despite the minor… incident, the logic of the skill remained sound.
Instead of producing raw healing mana like traditional regeneration abilities, it simply improved the efficiency of the body’s existing repair mechanisms. Cells divided faster, damaged tissue replaced itself more quickly, every natural recovery process cost less energy.
Subtle. Efficient. Exactly the kind of improvement the System liked.
Kael allowed himself a small smile. An Epic regeneration framework in half a day, with only minor collateral damage.
Not bad.
He glanced at his now perfectly functional fingers.
“Next time,” he murmured, “maybe test the theory on something less important first.”
Then he headed back to his room, already thinking about how far the concept could be pushed once the skill gained a few levels.
And possibly after consulting the healer before his joints tried to reinvent themselves again.
-
The evening meal at the manor was quiet, as it often was during training weeks. Conversation stayed light, mostly practical matters about the compound and the steady rhythm of work that kept the small island settlement functioning. Kael ate quickly but without rushing, his mind still occasionally drifting back to the delicate structure of the pattern he had managed to build earlier that afternoon.
After the meal ended and the servants began clearing the table, Dain rose.
“Walk with me,” he said.
Kael followed him out into the manor courtyard. The sky had already begun to darken, the last orange light of sunset fading into the deeper blue of early evening. The air was cooler now, carrying the faint scent of salt from the distant sea.
Dain stopped near the stone railing that overlooked the training grounds below.
“Well?” he said.
Kael understood the question immediately.
“I succeeded,” he replied.
Dain’s expression sharpened slightly. “You unlocked it.”
“Yes.”
His father studied him for a moment, clearly weighing the answer against his own expectations.
“Tell me how.”
Kael explained the process in the same calm tone he used when describing any other problem. He began with the mana flow patterns, describing how Mana Conditioning had provided the foundation for controlling the energy with greater precision.
When he reached the visualization part, he deliberately simplified the explanation. There was no reason to reveal every detail of the method he had developed; keeping a few pieces to himself was simply prudent.
Instead, he described it in broader terms. Not the injury as a whole, but the smallest pieces of damage within it—each drop of blood, each tiny tear in the skin, each thin strand of muscle beneath it.
Rather than forcing the body to close the wound all at once, the mana encouraged those countless small parts to mend themselves together one fragment at a time until the larger injury disappeared.
Dain listened without interrupting, though Kael could see the growing interest in his eyes.
“You based the visualization on the body’s natural healing,” Dain said slowly when Kael finished.
“Yes.”
“And the mana encourages those processes instead of replacing them.”
“That appears to be the case.”
Dain leaned back slightly against the stone railing, considering that.
“That’s… clever.”
Kael tilted his head a fraction.
“It seemed logical.”
Dain let out a quiet breath that was almost a laugh.
“That may be the most understated description of creative problem-solving I’ve heard in years.”
He folded his arms and studied Kael more carefully.
“What you described,” he continued after a moment, “is very close to how advanced regenerative skills are developed. The higher tiers stop forcing healing from the outside and instead work with the body’s natural processes.”
Kael nodded once.
“That was the intention.”
Dain’s mouth twitched faintly.
“It’s also the principle behind how I refined my own regeneration skill.”
That caught Kael’s attention.
Dain noticed immediately.
“Mine eventually stabilized at Epic,” he said. “Though reaching that point required a great deal of refinement.”
Kael filed the information away for later.
Dain continued, his tone becoming slightly more thoughtful.
“We normally don’t teach this method to the younger trainees,” he said. “Not because it’s secret, but because it’s rarely useful at that stage.”
“Why?” Kael asked.
“Visualization,” Dain said simply.
He tapped one finger lightly against the railing.
“Most children lack the education and imagination required to make the image vivid enough. If the mind cannot clearly picture what it is trying to influence, the System has nothing stable to respond to.”
He glanced down at Kael.
“So we teach simpler approaches instead. Push mana into the wound, force the body to respond, and hope the System eventually refines the skill later.”
“That sounds inefficient.”
“It is,” Dain agreed. “But it works reliably.”
He was quiet for a moment before adding,
“With the framework you described, if you continue refining the mana infusion and control aspects, there is a very good chance the skill will evolve into an Epic variant over time, way before class selection.”
Kael nodded slowly.
“That would be beneficial.”
Inside his mind, the conclusion forming was somewhat different.
If the mana manipulation and infusion layers are refined further, the pattern itself could become far more efficient, possibly even stable enough to push the framework another tier higher.
Legendary.
He kept that thought to himself.
Father, he reflected silently, if only you knew.
“I noticed your note,” Kael replied.
Dain sighed softly.
“You were already deep in concentration when I arrived. Interrupting that kind of focus can sometimes break the entire attempt.”
“That seemed like a reasonable assessment.”
Dain studied him again, and this time the expression that crossed his face was unmistakable.
Pride.
“Well done, Kael. Most trainees struggle for months before unlocking a stable regenerative skill,” Dain continued. “Some never manage it at all. They rely on external healers for the rest of their careers.”
Kael shrugged lightly.
“High mental attributes, remember? They occasionally pay dividends.” “That’s one way to describe it.”
Dain shook his head slightly.
“You are seven years old and you’ve already built a regeneration framework sophisticated enough reach the next rarity level.”
Kael considered that.
“I had a useful reference.”
“The booklet helped,” Dain said. “But a reference only takes someone so far.”
He paused.
“The rest came from you.”
Kael didn’t respond immediately. Compliments were still something he hadn’t quite grown comfortable receiving in this world.
Dain seemed to notice that and let the silence sit for a moment before speaking again.
“This skill will serve you well,” he said. “Not just in training. In combat, in long campaigns, in any situation where endurance matters.”
“That was the intention.”
Dain pushed himself away from the railing.
“Continue practicing it. Carefully,” he added, giving Kael a pointed look. “Preferably somewhere less exposed to aerial predators.”
“I will take that under advisement.”
“You’d better.”
They began walking back toward the manor entrance together.
Dain spoke again after a few steps.
“You realize what this means for your foundation.”
Kael nodded once.
“Yes.”
Kael nodded once.
Ten skills waited within the framework of his awakening, most of them still undeveloped.
Slowly, methodically, the foundations of something much larger were beginning to take shape.
Dain glanced down at him.
“I’m proud of you, Kael.”
Kael looked forward, thoughtful.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
The two of them stepped back into the warm light of the manor, the door closing softly behind them as the night settled over the island.
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