Ray returned with three glass mugs balanced easily between both hands.
The drink inside was amber and opaque, capped with a thick layer of foam that clung to the rim. It looked enough like beer that Jeremiah’s first instinct was to politely refuse, especially after everything his body had been through over the last few days.
Ulrick, however, had no such qualms. He reached for his mug with a wide grin.
“Ahhh,” the baker said. “You always know how to treat a man, Ray.”
He took a long pull, enough for the foam to leave a pale line across his mustache, then let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.
Ray chuckled and lifted his own mug. “Course, mate. Nothing but the best.”
He took a swig before turning his grin toward Jeremiah and gesturing to the second mug. “Go ahead, Jerry. Give it a try.”
Then he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as he gave a wink. “Don’t worry, it’s not alcohol. Take it from your senior, magic and drink rarely mix well.”
Jeremiah glanced at the mug before his gaze flicked briefly back to Ray.
The innkeeper’s expression remained bright and relaxed, all casual charm and open amusement. He looked like the kind of man who was impossible to offend and very difficult to read. Considering the System notification Jeremiah had seen the moment he entered, that made him all the more wary.
If Ray really was a Shard User, Jeremiah still didn’t know what the man knew, what he could see, or what rules he operated under. Ray had been friendly — maybe even too friendly — but then again, some people simply were. On the other hand, Ulrick seemed to trust him, and that counted for something.
More importantly, if Ray planned to pull something, Jeremiah doubted he would do it in front of Ulrick. Not openly.
After another moment, Jeremiah wrapped his hand around the mug, lifted it, and took a cautious sip.
A deep sweetness spread across his tongue, rich caramel followed by cream and vanilla, smooth without becoming cloying. Beneath it all lingered a faint spice he couldn’t place, something warm and lightly sharp that kept the drink from settling too heavily.
It reminded him of cream soda in some ways, but… more somehow. Fuller. Brighter, in a way he couldn’t quite place.
Jeremiah blinked.
Before he could stop himself, he took a second pull, larger this time.
When he lowered the mug again, Ray was grinning at both of them.
“Good stuff, ain’t it?” Ray said, clearly pleased. “Can’t get it on the open market, either. I buy it direct from a bloke who’s trying to make some kind of ultimate magical beer.”
He hooked two fingers in the air around the phrase, his grin widening.
“Claims this recipe’s a failure. But it turned out popular enough to fund his research, so I reckon failure’s a matter of perspective.”
Ulrick took another hearty swallow and set the mug down with a thump. “Order me a barrel next time he comes through.”
Ray nodded at him. “Done.”
The two older men spent the next few moments catching up and laughing over their drinks. Jeremiah listened quietly, one hand still wrapped around his mug, letting the strange sweetness linger on his tongue while he watched them trade stories with the easy rhythm of old friends.
Eventually, Ray sat a little straighter, his gaze sharpening.
“Now then,” he said. “What can I do for you lads?”
Ulrick set his mug down with a softer thud and wiped a bit of foam from his beard. “Jeremiah here recently came to me with an interesting find,” he said, nodding toward him. “One I wasn’t able to properly identify.”
Ray’s brows lifted slightly.
Ulrick continued, unhurried. “Since he’s getting close to casting his first spell anyway, I figured this would be a wonderful opportunity to get him the answers he needs and introduce him to the Inn Between properly.”
For a moment, Ulrick’s words didn’t fully register in Jeremiah’s mind. But when they did, his eyes widened.
He was close to casting his first spell?
Jeremiah turned toward Ulrick, staring up at the man with a furrowed brow.
Ulrick met the look with a mischievous grin over the rim of his mug.
Jeremiah frowned.
Yes, Ulrick had been teaching him. Breathing exercises. Awareness drills. A handful of strange little practices that left Jeremiah’s head pounding when he pushed too hard or too long.
He could even say he had begun to sense the surrounding mana more reliably recently. Sometimes. Under the right conditions. If he focused.
But Ulrick had also made it clear that most mages studied for months before casting their first spell. Some took longer. And those were people with actual affinities and talent, not whatever stitched-on magical graft the System had given him.
Jeremiah had assumed he was still at the very beginning of the road.
Apparently, Ulrick disagreed.
Across the table, Ray’s expression shifted from casual interest to something more focused. He leaned back slightly, one elbow resting against the chair arm, and gave Jeremiah another appraising look.
“Oh?” Ray said.
There was no mockery in it, only curiosity, but Jeremiah still fought the urge to shift under the scrutiny.
Ray’s gaze flicked briefly to Ulrick, then returned to Jeremiah. “Found something even you couldn’t identify?” he asked, his tone still light, but with something sharp just under the surface. “Must’ve been something… special indeed.”
Ulrick, still grinning, gestured toward Ray with his mug.
“Ray here used to be a rather famous adventurer in his time,” he said. “He specialized in magical beasts. I figured if anyone could help you figure this one out, it’d be him.”
Ray burst into laughter, loud enough that a few nearby patrons glanced over from their tables.
“Believe nothing Ulrick tells you about my misbegotten youth,” he said, waving the praise away. “I’m just a retired washout these days. If I’d ever been half as good as he insists, I’d never have fallen for that poacher’s trap.”
He shifted in his chair, then stuck one leg out from beneath the table and tugged up the hem of his shorts.
The scar was hard to miss.
It ran along the outside of Ray’s leg, starting near the side of his knee and climbing toward his upper thigh in a jagged, pale line. Even healed, the old wound looked vicious, thick and uneven where something had torn deep and refused to mend cleanly. It was the sort of scar that told Jeremiah the man was lucky to still have the leg at all.
Jeremiah winced despite himself.
Ray chuckled at the young man’s obvious discomfort and gave him a wink. “On the plus side, the ladies do love a good scar.”
He dropped the hem of his shorts and tucked his leg back beneath the table. Whatever pain or history lived behind the wound, Ray clearly had no interest in dwelling on it. Instead, he leaned back and turned his attention fully to Jeremiah.
“But enough of my story,” Ray said. “Tell me yours, mate. What is it you wanted me to look at?”
Both men looked at Jeremiah.
For a heartbeat, he said nothing.
He could feel the weight of Ray’s attention more clearly now. The man had a talent for throwing him off balance, and Jeremiah had to keep reminding himself not to give away too much too soon.
With an encouraging nod from Ulrick, he reached into his coat and drew the Seven-Radiance Adarna Feather from an inner pocket. Its colors shifted beneath the tavern light, red folding into gold, then green, never settling into anything that made sense.
Jeremiah placed it carefully on the table between them.
Ray’s other brow rose to meet the first.
For the first time since Jeremiah had met him, the innkeeper’s easy grin thinned into something quieter. He leaned forward, attention fixed on the feather.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing toward it.
Jeremiah hesitated for a heartbeat, then gave a small nod.
Ray picked up the feather with surprising care, turning it by the quill as he watched the colors play across its surface.
“Crikey,” he murmured, glancing toward Ulrick. “I see what you mean.”
Ulrick gave a light chuckle and scratched his cheek.
Ray looked back at Jeremiah, and the grin returned, though softer than before. “You must have the devil’s luck, mate. This is quite the find.”
Jeremiah sat a little straighter. “You know what it is?”
“I do.”
Jeremiah’s pulse jumped. He leaned forward before he could stop himself, eyes fixed on the feather in Ray’s hand.
“That said—”
Jeremiah sagged.
Ray chuckled. “Normally, I’d offer this one on the house as a gesture to Ulrick.”
Ulrick lifted his mug in silent acknowledgment.
“But,” Ray continued, raising the feather slightly, “given this is meant to be your introduction to the Inn Between, I figure it’s a good chance for you to learn the first rule of this place.”
He leaned back, eyes on the feather.
“At its heart, the Inn Between is a place of exchange,” Ray said. “That’s how it’s always worked. People come here to trade goods, buy supplies, make deals, hire help, settle debts. Any manner of things.” He gave a small shrug. “After all, trade is its own form of transition.”
Jeremiah nodded slowly. If he understood this place correctly, it reminded him, oddly, of the System Store itself. Was this where Sarah had gotten the idea?
Ray continued.
“But coins are only one kind of currency. Stories. Experience. Knowledge. Promises. Warnings. All of it has weight here.”
Ray leaned forward and gestured toward Jeremiah with the feather.
“So, in exchange for helping you identify this beauty, what I want is simple.”
His grin widened.
“I want to hear your story.” He lifted the feather just enough for the shifting colors to catch the light. “How did you come by something like this?”
Jeremiah froze.
The question should have been harmless. On the surface, it was exactly what anyone would have asked.
But if Ray was a Shard User, it was also exactly the kind of question that could force Jeremiah to reveal things he maybe shouldn’t.
Jeremiah realized the shape of the trap only after he had already stepped into it.
How much could he say without giving away too much?
How much would silence reveal on its own?
His gaze flickered toward Ulrick.
The baker met his eyes and gave a small nod.
Jeremiah turned back to Ray.
The innkeeper waited, patient as ever, one hand resting near the feather.
Jeremiah let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair.
“Alright,” he said. “But it’s a long story.”
——————————————————
Over the next twenty minutes, Jeremiah did his best to explain the last few months, giving him much the same tailored story he had given Ulrick, though careful not to mention anything that might tip the innkeeper off about the System.
It was harder than he liked.
He started with the shop, framing the Mystical Menagerie as a birthday gift from Sarah. That much was true, technically. He simply left out the blue windows, the impossible catalogue, and the fact that the “gift” had arrived wrapped in layers of cosmic nonsense he still barely understood.
Ray listened without interrupting, one elbow resting on the table, fingers curled around his mug. Ulrick leaned back beside him, expression easy but attentive. Every so often, Billy shifted over Jeremiah’s shoulder, watching Ray with a wariness that mirrored Jeremiah’s own.
Jeremiah told them about opening the shop, about the early days, about meeting Ulrick and learning enough magic to understand how little he knew. He explained the Candlewick flock after that, though he carefully avoided mentioning the Wyrd Wilds themselves.
Jeremiah told them about the mites and how badly the flock had been suffering. He explained his plan to earn their trust, then the birdhouse that would allow the flock to travel to the atrium he had set up behind the shop. He kept the details practical. No System shenanigans. No store fixtures or linked habitats. Just an unusual artifact Sarah’s contacts had helped him acquire.
Ray raised a brow at that, his grin faint. “Your sister must’ve had some very interesting friends.”
Jeremiah met his gaze. “She did,” he answered, as flat as he could.
Which, again, wasn’t an outright lie, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.
Ray studied him for a moment longer, then tipped his mug in acknowledgment and let him continue.
Jeremiah wasn’t sure how much the man believed. Maybe all of it. Maybe none. Ray’s expression gave away almost nothing beyond polite interest and the occasional flash of curiosity when Jeremiah described something particularly unusual.
That only made Jeremiah more nervous.
Finally, Jeremiah reached the end.
He told Ray about bringing the injured Candlewick back to the shop, setting it up in the atrium for treatment, and later finding the feather beneath the birdhouse.
When he finished, the table fell quiet.
Ray leaned back in his chair, the Seven-Radiance Feather turning slowly between his fingers. He rubbed his chin with his free hand, eyes narrowed in thought.
“I see,” he said at last. “That does make things a bit clearer, then.”
Jeremiah straightened. “It does?”
Ray nodded and sat forward again, setting the feather carefully on the table between them.
“Let me ask you something, lad.” His tone had lost some of its earlier playfulness. “Have you been sleeping well recently?”
Jeremiah blinked at the seemingly sudden change in topic.
Ray kept watching him. “Odd dreams? Fatigue? Strange bouts of irritation or anxiety?” He raised a brow. “…Paranoia?”
Jeremiah drew in a breath to answer.
Then stopped.
His first instinct was to say no. Of course he was tired. Of course he was stressed. He had opened a business, hosted a tournament, nearly gotten killed, adopted out his first pets, fought a monster, and dealt with a whole host of other problems besides.
He hadn’t been sleeping well. Jeremiah knew that. Even before the dream through the monitor’s eyes, his nights had felt thin and broken in places. He woke too often with his mind already reaching for the next item on the list before the day had even begun, worry and anxiety crawling under his skin.
But that kind of thing came with the job. With responsibility. He couldn’t really call it strange.
That was just his life now.
Except the answer sat wrong in his mouth.
Jeremiah frowned.
Something soft and wet wrapped around his finger.
He flinched and looked down.
Billy had settled on the edge of the table. One small tentacle extended from his bubble armor, curling gently around Jeremiah’s finger before giving it a careful squeeze.
Jeremiah’s chest tightened.
Something in his expression must have said everything he hadn’t, because across the table, Ray folded his arms and gave a slow nod.
“Thought so,” he said. “Sounds like your feathered friends have a Dreameater Mite problem.”