“Are you sure you want to come? I understand why you might not want to, and I won’t make you.”
Jeremiah kept his voice level, though he hadn’t realized until this moment how long he’d been bracing for this conversation.
Early morning light spilled through the front windows of the Mystical Menagerie, pale and clean. The shop rested in a fragile quiet, the air still holding the faint chill of night. On the desk sat the same travel bag he’d carried on his first proper trip into the Testing Grounds. He had packed more carefully this time, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed something again.
He forced the worry aside and focused on the present.
Across from him, Billy floated inside his bubble armor, tentacles tucked close to his mantle. He dipped once in a careful, uneven approximation of a nod. When he met Jeremiah’s gaze, there was a gravity there that didn’t belong to a kraken not even a year old.
Jeremiah straightened from where he’d been checking the bag and studied him.
Their first trip into the Testing Grounds had ended in disaster.
Jeremiah still remembered the way the flock had risen — an explosion of wings and fire, streaking overhead in a violent arc. The forest had gone from quiet to chaos in seconds. Leaves ignited where sparks touched down. Heat rolled in waves. He’d grabbed Billy without thinking and run, boots slipping against loose soil while flaming shapes dove and wheeled behind them.
He hadn’t blamed Billy. Not once.
The kraken had been under the influence of the cocktail berries. If anyone deserved blame, it was Jeremiah for failing to anticipate the consequences.
Billy hadn’t seen it that way.
In the days that followed, when Jeremiah returned to deal with the mite infestation plaguing the flock, Billy had remained behind. The first few times, he’d hovered near the door, tentacles flexing as though weighing the choice. Then he’d drifted back to his tank. He hadn’t sunk into the same hollow depression as before his talk with David, but each time Jeremiah left, Billy had been quiet and withdrawn in a way that hadn’t sat right.
Jeremiah had kept asking anyway.
If nothing else, he wanted Billy to know there was no blame to carry.
Each time, Billy had refused.
Until today.
Through their bond, a gentle impression of emotions took form.
Determination came first — firm and steady. Then a clear desire to help. Beneath it lingered a thread of shame, thinner than before, wrapped in something stronger.
The need to try again. The need to prove to himself that he wasn’t a burden.
Something in Jeremiah’s chest twisted. Kraken or not, someone so young shouldn’t have to worry about something like that.
He was sure to tell Billy that as well.
“You don’t have to prove anything,” he said. “You know that, right?”
Billy’s tentacles tightened, then curled inward. His mantle furrowed with visible effort, and the bond between them trembled faintly. Something brushed against Jeremiah’s thoughts.
Will do better.
Jeremiah’s breath caught. His eyes widened.
They hadn’t been words, not exactly. Instead, it felt more like Billy had reached into his memory and tapped each concept gently into place. A careful assembling of meaning using pieces Jeremiah already knew.
But they were close.
Close enough that Jeremiah felt something bright — and almost a little painful — well up in his heart.
A grin broke across his face before he could stop it, and a soft laugh escaped him.
No, they hadn’t been words. But more than anything, they were proof that Billy was growing.
“Alright, then,” Jeremiah said, nodding once. “We go together.”
Billy spun in a tight circle, joy bursting through the bond in warm, fizzy waves.
Jeremiah straightened, the faint ache in his ribs the only reminder left of his previous injury. If there was any time to do it, it was now. He adjusted the strap of the travel bag over his shoulder and rolled his shoulder.
“Glad to have you watching my back, buddy,” he said, sending reassurance and pride through their bond.
Then, from across the room, a sharp voice cut through the moment.
“Wait, he gets to go, and I don’t?!”
Mani shot up from wherever he’d been sitting, his voice indignant.
“Yes!” four other voices chimed in at once.
Mani folded his arms and crawled back into his seat with a scowl.
Jeremiah ignored him and turned his attention to the rest of the café.
Lewis stood by the pastry counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He wore the same pressed suit he’d chosen for the tournament instead of his usual work clothes.
At a nearby table, the three Grim kids sat with half-finished pastries and cooling tea. Stella leaned over the tabletop, chin in her hands, watching the kittens tumble inside their enclosure. Alan sat opposite her, back straight, sipping his tea with his usual steady composure. Mani slouched so low in his chair that it looked intentional, arms crossed and scowling openly at Jeremiah.
Jeremiah adjusted the strap of his travel bag and walked over.
“Thanks for watching the shop while I’m gone, Lewis. I appreciate it.”
Before the tournament, he could have closed the Menagerie for a day without much trouble. A handwritten sign on the door, maybe a short notice on the board, and that would be enough.
Not anymore.
Between the Arcadium, café regulars, the garden kids, and the steady uptick in attention after the tournament, closing even for a day risked frustrating people who had only just started trusting the shop. With Lewis here, Jeremiah didn’t have to choose between necessary work and the goodwill they’d built.
“Don’t worry, Boss! We’ll take care of things here!” Mani declared before Lewis could answer.
“Yeah!” Stella added, bouncing in her seat.
Jeremiah looked at Mani. “I’m not your boss.”
Mani gasped and clutched his chest. “You’re firing us already? After how well we did at the tournament?” He leaned back dramatically. “I didn’t know you could be so cruel, Jeremiah.”
Stella pressed her hands to her cheeks in matching horror.
Jeremiah rubbed his temples. “What are you three even doing here? It’s not a class day.”
“That’s my fault, boss,” Lewis said quickly, stepping in before Mani could escalate.
Jeremiah lowered his hand and met his eyes.
“The garden class has been growing,” Lewis said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to open a second plot before it becomes a problem. Figured I’d get a head start on prep and called them to help.”
Jeremiah blinked. “Has it really grown that much?”
He’d noticed more kids lately but hadn’t kept count. He’d trusted Lewis to manage it.
Lewis nodded. “We’re getting new faces every couple of days. The Floramancy talismans help. People don’t often get the chance to learn about real magic.” He glanced toward the courtyard. “Maddie and Verdant have helped a lot as well. Even with the late start, things are growing faster than I expected.” He paused. “Spring’s going to hit hard if we don’t start expanding now.”
Jeremiah tilted his head. “Verdant?”
“Elliot’s beetle!” Stella said with a grin.
Jeremiah nodded. He knew the Petalwitch had settled in the garden beds, but he hadn’t caught the name.
“I see.” He gave a small nod, then looked back at Lewis. “Sorry if I threw off your plans.”
Lewis waved it off. “Think nothing of it, boss. The kids know what to do. We’ll manage.”
“Besides,” Mani muttered, folding his arms again, “he’s actually paying us. Unlike someone.”
Jeremiah rolled his eyes.
Stella giggled.
“I’ll leave things in your hands, Lewis,” Jeremiah said. “I should be back later today. Early tomorrow at the latest.”
His gaze shifted to Alan, who had remained quiet through most of it.
“Try not to let your brother and sister break anything.”
Alan stood and gave a crisp salute. “Understood.”
“That’s rude!” Stella protested.
“We’ve never broken anything!” Mani said, then a heartbeat later, “…important,”
Jeremiah looked at them.
Stella crossed her arms. Mani scratched at his cheek and glanced away.
“That we couldn’t fix,” he muttered into his scarf.
Lewis pressed his lips together, failing to hide his smile.
Jeremiah shook his head, a quiet laugh slipping out, then turned to Billy.
“Well, bud. Ready to go?”
Billy brightened at once and spun in place. Excitement surged through their bond, sharp and eager. He darted upward in a tight loop around Jeremiah’s head, then shot toward the staircase.
Jeremiah adjusted the strap on his shoulder and followed.
——————————————————
Jeremiah reached the top of the stairs and slowed.
The hallway still carried the faint scent of fresh construction. Morning light slipped through the narrow upper windows, cutting pale strips across the floor and the row of doors. Billy hovered several paces ahead, spinning lazily in place as he waited for Jeremiah to catch up.
At the far end stood the carved doorway to the Testing Grounds.
Rather than head in that direction, he turned instead to the first room off the stairs.
The plain wooden door was gone. In its place stood a brushed metal one, silver and seamless except for a thin vertical seam down the middle. A small plaque at eye level read:
[Recovery Wing]
A grin tugged at his mouth.
Jeremiah stepped closer.
Before his hand could even reach for the handle, the door slid sideways into the wall with a soft hydraulic hiss. It was the same design the college clinic had used, with wide clearance and no need to fumble with a handle while juggling a stretcher or trying to keep a sedated animal steady.
He stepped inside—
—and stopped.
The room was immaculate.
Clean white walls trimmed with muted blue accents. Cabinets lined one side in neat symmetry, while diagnostic screens rested dark and waiting above integrated workstations. A suspended monitor hung above a central treatment table — large enough to comfortably accommodate a full-grown mastiff. The table itself adjusted subtly as he approached, a small control panel at its side blinking to life.
Jeremiah let out a slow breath.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this.
He moved deeper into the room, turning once to take in the details. Storage modules sat flush with the walls. A compact imaging unit was built into the far paneling. A sealed refrigeration column stood near the rear. Even the floor drains were positioned where they made sense.
But the more he took in, the more something nagged at him.
“Strange,” he murmured. “Where’s the rest of it?”
The room was impressive — far beyond anything he could have afforded on his own — but it wasn’t nearly enough equipment to handle everything the System description had promised.
There should have been more.
“The room is currently in its default examination configuration. Would you like to change to a different configuration?”
Jeremiah nearly jumped out of his skin.
He spun, Twin Boundaries already materializing in his hand, the magical pen catching the overhead lights as he snapped into a defensive stance.
A man stood a few feet behind him.
He was handsome, with jet-black hair and bronze skin. He wore blue scrubs and a pleasant smile that was obviously meant to put someone at ease.
Jeremiah’s pulse hammered as he stared at the stranger.
“How did you—”
He stopped.
Something about the man was… off. He almost appeared… fuzzy around the edges.
Before Jeremiah could put the thought into words, a flash of blue streaked past his shoulder.
Billy, alarm surging through their bond and echoing his own, launched himself forward. His bubble armor compacted into a hardened sphere.
“Billy—!”
Too late.
The bowling-ball-sized sphere slammed directly into the man’s head—
—and passed through it.
Jeremiah blinked.
The figure rippled faintly, like a reflection disturbed on still water, then reformed without so much as a flicker.
Billy, on the other hand, continued at full speed and slammed into a cabinet with a solid thud. Doors rattled. A metal tray hit the floor and skidded, scattering the supplies on top of it.
The man turned his head calmly toward the tumbling kraken.
A mechanical arm dropped from the ceiling and caught Billy mid-bounce. Two more extended, gathering the fallen instruments and returning them to their spots with precise, surgical efficiency.
Jeremiah slowly lowered his pen.
“…You’re the nurse AI,” he said. It was a statement, rather than a question.
The man faced him again and inclined his head.
“Correct. I am the Joy-Class Nursing Unit RY-4472, currently assigned to this clinic.”
Jeremiah blinked, his pulse slowly settling.
“Joy-Class?”
“Seraphim Care Systems offers three commercial models,” the hologram said. “Merry, Joy, and Bliss-Class. They correspond to LPN, RN, and NP procedural levels. This Recovery Wing includes a Joy-Class unit by default. If you wish to upgrade to a Bliss-Class unit for an additional fee—”
Jeremiah held up a hand.
“No. That’s fine.”
The hologram nodded once and went still.
Billy drifted free of the mechanical arm and moved closer to Jeremiah, hovering just behind his shoulder. His tentacles flexed once, gaze fixed on the projection with open suspicion.
Jeremiah sent a brief pulse of reassurance through their bond before turning back to the figure.
“I don’t remember the nurse AIs I worked with being so… personal.”
“That is understandable,” RY-4472 replied. “Most nurse-class units operate alongside biological staff. Given the absence of additional personnel and the veterinary knowledge package integrated into my framework, I determined a humanoid projection would increase patient and caretaker comfort by a margin of forty-two percent.”
The hologram bowed slightly.
“If I have overstepped, I can revert to standard interface parameters.”
Jeremiah considered that for a moment.
“No,” he said finally. “That’s fine for now.”
“Understood.”
Jeremiah glanced around the room again.
“You mentioned configurations?”
RY-4472 nodded.
“Correct. While custom configurations may be saved, the Recovery Wing contains numerous pre-established layouts to meet common procedural requirements. Examination, imaging, surgical preparation, quarantine, post-operative recovery, among others. Would you like to review the available options?”
As he spoke, sections of the wall shimmered briefly, suggesting equipment concealed behind modular panels.
The temptation tugged at him immediately. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to. To cycle through each configuration. To watch the room transform and reveal its hidden secrets.
But he also knew himself.
If he started now, he wouldn’t leave for hours.
He pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Not today.”
“Very well.”
An awkward silence fell.
“I need to head out,” Jeremiah said at last. “But I’ll be back later to look everything over properly.”
RY-4472 bowed again. “Understood, sir. I will remain on standby.”
Jeremiah turned toward the door — then paused.
He looked back.
“RY-4472 is… a mouthful,” he said. “Mind if I give you a name?”
The hologram’s expression remained pleasantly neutral.
“Of course, sir. You may alter my designation at any time.”
Jeremiah tilted his head, thinking.
Then he grinned.
“How about… Roy?”
There was the faintest processing pause.
“That designation is acceptable. Updating internal records.”
Jeremiah chuckled. “Well then, Nurse Roy,” he said, stepping toward the doorway as it slid open again, “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Until then, sir,” Roy replied.
The hologram dissolved into flakes of light as he crossed the threshold. The door slid closed behind him with a quiet whoosh.
Jeremiah cast one last look at the Recovery Wing plaque, satisfaction warming his chest.
Then he turned.
Jeremiah adjusted the strap of his travel bag and started walking.
The Testing Grounds awaited.
——————————————————
The hallway outside the Testing Grounds lay quiet.
Morning light fell in narrow strips across the floorboards, dividing the corridor into bands of pale gold and shadow. At the far end, the carved doorway stood motionless, its etched patterns shifting in odd ways if you stared too long.
Jeremiah’s steps echoed softly as he approached. Billy hovered close to his shoulder, the surface of his bubble armor catching the light in a muted sheen.
He didn’t look back.
If he had, he might have noticed one of the upper doors standing slightly ajar when it hadn’t been before. He might have seen a shadow slip from that opening and flatten against the wall. It moved carefully, darting from one stretch of darkness to the next, timing each step to stay squarely in Jeremiah’s blind spot.
Jeremiah reached the carved door. It creaked open on its own.
Jeremiah approached the doorway, and it creaked open of its own accord. Beyond lay not another room, but a sprawling, living forest. Jeremiah walked through with no hesitation.
The shadow paused just long enough to ensure Jeremiah hadn’t glanced back. Then, just as the door was beginning to close, it lunged.
It shot toward the narrowing gap—
—and slammed face-first into a green, shimmering barrier.
“Owwiiie!” Mani yelped, clutching his nose as he stumbled back. The portal door finished closing with a final, soft bang.
He scrambled upright, eyes watering, and jabbed a finger at the door. “You think this’ll stop me?! There’s never been a door I couldn’t crack!”
With a flourish, he dug into the inner lining of his jacket and produced a slim set of picks, a tension wrench, and something that looked suspiciously like a modified screwdriver. He crouched and leaned in close, squinting at the seam.
“Alright, you smug piece of enchanted lumber,” he muttered. “Let’s see what you’re hiding.”
He reached for the edge—
A hand dropped onto his shoulder.
Mani froze.
Slowly, carefully, he looked up.
Lewis stood behind him, arms folded, expression flat.
“Ohhhh… uh. Hi, Lewis,” Mani said, voice cracking just a little. He forced a grin. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Lewis’s frown deepened.
Mani clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Dang it. Stella was supposed to distract you…”
“Ya… about that,” Stella chimed brightly.
She popped out from behind Lewis’s back, a massive cinnamon bun clutched in both hands, steam curling lazily upward. She took an enthusiastic bite and gave Mani a cheerful wave.
Mani’s eyes widened. “Traitor!”
Stella stuck out her tongue and darted for the stairs, giggling as she went.
Lewis sighed.
Without another word, he caught Mani by the back of his collar and hauled him upright, following after the girl, Mani complaining the entire way.