Dusk had fallen over Bridgewater as Valentina, Innogen and Crispin made their way to The Burning Quill. The streets of the old town were a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and crooked half-timbered houses, their upper floors leaning over the path as if they were reaching out to each other across the street.

  The smell of roasting meat and alcohol hung in the air, mixed with the smoky aroma of burning logs. Lanterns flickered on the street corners, casting dancing shadows on the cobblestones.

  "It's not far now," Innogen said excitedly as they turned a corner. "Can you hear it?"

  Indeed, a mixture of music, laughter and excited voices reached their ears. When they reached the next bend, they finally saw their destination.

  "The Burning Quill" was an imposing, three-story building that stood out against the surrounding houses. Its facade was decorated with ornate carvings that seemed to move in the flickering light of the torches, not unlike Essence patterns. A huge sign was emblazoned above the entrance: a burning feather, painted so vividly that Valentina could have sworn the flames were moving.

  A sizable crowd had gathered outside the tavern. Young and old, students and craftsmen, all seemed to be drawn by something Valentina could not yet recognize.

  "How fascinating," Vyxara murmured in her head. "These people are like moths drawn to the light. I wonder what it is that captivates them so."

  As they got closer, the source of the excitement became visible. In front of the tavern stood a man who seemed to have the crowd under his command.

  "This is Hobkin of Foxhollow," Innogen whispered, her eyes shining with excitement and maybe something more. "He's a street performer and and untrained minor Essence Weaver. His performances are legendary!"

  Valentina couldn't take her eyes off Hobkin. He was a lean, wiry man, perhaps in his early thirties, with bright red hair that stood out brightly in the lantern light. His green eyes sparkled with mischief as he juggled with a skill that took Valentina's breath away.

  But it wasn't just his physical appearance that was fascinating. The air around Hobkin shimmered with Essence. Small flashes of light and swirls of color accompanied his every move, amplifying his gestures and making even the simplest tricks seem like an amazing show. To the eyes of an Essence Weaver, what Hobkin was doing looked even more colorful and fantastic.

  "By all the Martyr's flames," Crispin breathed beside her, a mixture of admiration and unease in his voice. "How does he do it?"

  Hobkin just threw five glowing spheres into the air, which spun in a spiral. With a mischievous grin, he snapped his fingers and the spheres exploded in a shower of sparkling particles that rained gently down on the astonished crowd.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Hobkin called out, his voice as melodic as the babbling of a brook, "that was just the beginning! Which of you would like to be a volunteer for my next little experiment?"

  Dozens of hands shot up, accompanied by excited shouts. Hobkin's gaze wandered over the crowd and suddenly lingered on Valentina. A smile that made her heart beat faster spread across his face.

  "Ah, what do I see there? New faces in our humble town?" With an elegant movement, he made his way through the crowd. "Welcome, welcome! May I ask what brings two such charming young ladies to our humble tavern?"

  Valentina felt a blush creep up her face. Hobkin was even more attractive up close. His bright eyes seemed to look straight into her soul, and the scent of sandalwood and something wild and indefinable surrounded him.

  "Careful, little Weaver," Vyxara warned, but Valentina could hear the hint of amusement in the demon's voice. "This man is more cunning than he looks. But also... more interesting."

  "We... we're students from Bridgewater University," Valentina stammered, surprised by her own nervousness. "We're celebrating the completion of the first round of the Greystone competition."

  Hobkin's eyes widened appreciatively. "Ah, the famous competition of the best young Essence Weavers! What an honor to have such talented guests. May I ask how you did?"

  Before Valentina could reply, Innogen stepped forward, a beaming smile on her face. "Our friend here," she put an arm around Valentina's shoulders, "took first place this round!"

  A murmur went through the crowd and Hobkin bowed deeply to Valentina. "My most sincere congratulations, young lady. I'm honored to meet such a beautiful and talented young scholar. That must be celebrated!" He straightened up and winked at her. "How about you assist me with my next trick? I promise it will be an unforgettable experience."

  Valentina felt her heart leap. Part of her wanted nothing more than to accept Hobkin's invitation. But another part, the part that was always cautious and reserved, hesitated.

  She glanced at her friends. Innogen nodded encouragingly at her, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Crispin, on the other hand, looked distinctly uncomfortable, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  "Oh, this is going to be interesting," Vyxara commented amusedly. "Your little admirer doesn't seem very taken with our charming entertainer. Jealous, perhaps?"

  Valentina ignored the demon's comment and turned back to Hobkin. "I... I don't really know," she said hesitantly. "I'm not very good in front of an audience."

  Hobkin laughed, a warm, inviting sound that seemed to chase away the chill of the night. "Don't worry, my dear. I promise I'll be gentle with you." He held out his hand to her, a silent invitation in his eyes.

  Valentina hesitated for a moment, then took his hand. It was warm and calloused, and she felt a slight tingling of Essence flowing through her fingers.

  "Excellent!" Hobkin called out and led her forward. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome my charming assistant for the next performance!"

  The crowd applauded and Valentina felt the excitement growing inside her. Whatever this evening would bring, it would certainly be unforgettable.

  "Oh yes," Vyxara agreed, her voice a mixture of anticipation and warning. "Unforgettable indeed. Be on your guard, little Weaver. People often make the funniest mistakes on nights like this."

  With one last glance back at her friends – Innogen, who smiled encouragingly and perhaps a little enviously at her, and Crispin, whose expression wavered between concern and suppressed anger – Valentina let Hobkin lead her in front of the crowd. It wasn't as bad as she had feared – Hobkin was courteous, professional and knew how to stage Valentina skillfully for the entertainment of his audience.

  After his little demonstration, in which Valentina cut a good figure against all expectations and was even allowed to perform a few simple Essence manipulations, the street artist led the three friends to the entrance of the "Burning Quill" with a theatrical gesture.

  "Enjoy the evening, my young friends," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "And remember: many great adventures have been born in these venerable halls – and even more great headaches."

  With a final mischievous grin, Hobkin disappeared into the crowd that was now slowly pouring into the tavern. "Isn't he dreamy?" swooned Innogen delightedly, while Crispin rolled his eyes in annoyance. Valentina felt her heart beat faster with excitement as she crossed the threshold.

  The interior of the Burning Quill was a sight to behold, taking the breath away from Valentina and Crispin, and even Innogen, who had been there before. The large taproom was filled with a warm, golden light emanating from dozens of Essence lamps. The walls were covered with bookshelves piled high with old tomes and yellowed parchment scrolls. Paintings and drawings depicting scenes from Sommerland's history hung between the shelves.

  At the long bar, which seemed to have been carved out of a single giant tree trunk, guests crowded around and called for drinks. Behind it, the landlord and several barmaids worked in a perfectly choreographed dance, tapping ale and distributing tasty smelling red drinks with a speed and precision that reminded Valentina of Essence Weaving.

  "Fascinating," Vyxara murmured in Valentina's head. "These mortals really know how to have fun. Maybe you'll learn something useful here after all, little Weaver."

  "Come on," Innogen called over the noise, "I see a free table back there!"

  They made their way through the crowd, past laughing students, serious scholars in discussion and the odd couple sitting close together in a dark corner.

  As they sat down at their table, a cozy corner seat with soft leather-covered benches, Crispin breathed a sigh of relief. "Phew, it's loud. And even more crowded in here than outside."

  Innogen grinned and nudged him with his elbow. "Don't be such a sourpuss Crispin! We just need to put our heads together so we can hear each other better." She waggled her eyebrows, making Crispin and Valentina laugh.

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  A young waitress approached their table. "Welcome to the 'Burning Quill'! What can I get you?"

  Innogen ordered a round of 'fire tongues' – the house specialty drink – for everyone, despite Crispin's slightly panicked look, and insisted on paying for them all.

  When the drinks arrived, bright red and steaming, Innogen raised her glass. "To us, to Bridgewater and to Valentina's spectacular victory!"

  They clinked glasses and Valentina took a cautious sip. The liquid burned pleasantly in her throat and left a warm, tingling sensation.

  "So," Crispin began, after recovering from his coughing fit, "what are you guys actually planning to do when we're done with university? I mean, besides becoming the best Essence Weavers ever?"

  Innogen leaned back, a dreamy expression in her eyes. "I would love to travel. See the world, learn about foreign cultures. Maybe even discover new forms of Essence Weaving."

  "That sounds wonderful," Valentina said with a smile. "I... I'd like to earn money, help my family. I'll find something. Then I'll see."

  Crispin nodded approvingly. "That's really noble of you, Val. I'm not sure yet. Maybe I'll be a teacher. Or a poet. Or I might write a book on Essence theory."

  They continued to laugh and drink, and the atmosphere became more and more exuberant. Valentina watched the other guests, her gaze lingering on a nearby table.

  "Isn't that Professor Veilford?" she whispered in surprise.

  Innogen turned around inconspicuously. "Oh yes, and sitting next to him is Professor Emberfell. Look how close they're sitting to each other!"

  Crispin almost choked on his drink. "Do you think those two...?"

  "Who knows," Innogen chuckled. "Many secrets have been born and buried within these walls."

  They fell into gossip about their professors and fellow students, laughing at Crispin's deceptively real imitation of Professor Horne's voice and Innogen's description of Professor Emberfell's infamous "death stare".

  "Oh, do you remember our first meeting?" Valentina suddenly asked, caught up in a wave of nostalgia.

  Crispin blushed slightly. "How could I forget that? I've spent half the day feeling ashamed of my stuttering."

  Innogen laughed. "You were sweet! And Val, you were so shy and reserved. I was beginning to think you'd never talk to us."

  "Hey!" Valentina protested, but had to laugh herself. "I was just... overwhelmed by everything. You were both so confident and worldly."

  "Me? Confident?" Crispin shook his head in disbelief. "I was a nervous wreck! It took me three days to work up the courage to ask you for directions to the library."

  They all laughed, the memories of their initial awkwardness now a source of amusement.

  "Do you remember the first time we ate in the dining room?" asked Innogen with a grin.

  Valentina moaned theatrically. "Oh gods, don't remind me. That... Thing they called stew."

  "I swear it moved! By itself!" exclaimed Crispin. "And the smell!"

  "How dare they call it food?" Innogen was playfully indignant. "My father would come with all his affinity if he knew what they were feeding us."

  "Oh come on," Valentina teased, "it's not that bad. At least not always."

  "Says the woman who grew up on porridge and turnip stew," Innogen teased her with a laugh.

  They continued to joke, remembering Professor Horne's endless monologues and the absurd rumors that kept circulating through the university.

  As the evening progressed and the "fire tongues" took effect, the atmosphere became even more open-hearted. Valentina felt warm and happy, surrounded by her friends, the worries of the last few weeks forgotten for a moment.

  "Enjoy it, little Weaver," Vyxara whispered, her voice unusually gentle. "Such moments are rare and precious."

  Valentina nodded slightly, grateful for the reminder. She raised her glass. "To us," she said with a warm smile. "To friendship and to adventures that still lie ahead of us."

  "Here's to us!" echoed Innogen and Crispin, their glasses clinking together. Valentina noticed a young couple at a nearby table. They were sitting close together, their hands clasped, exchanging furtive kisses.

  "Look," she whispered, with a nod in the direction of the couple. "These two seem to be having a good time."

  Innogen followed her gaze and smiled pensively and perhaps a little sadly. "Ah, young love, light-hearted and carefree."

  Crispin cleared his throat sheepishly. "Don't you think they're a bit... well, too public?"

  "Oh come on, Crispin," Innogen teased him. "Don't be such a prude. It's nice to see two people so happy."

  Valentina felt a blush rise to her face. The subject of love and intimacy was still associated with a certain discomfort for her.

  "Oh, is it getting interesting now?" Vyxara's amused voice rang in her head. "Let's see how your virtuous friends feel about the pleasures of the flesh."

  "What's it like in the high nobility, Innogen?" Crispin asked to their astonishment, barely daring to look her in the eye. The alcohol had probably encouraged him. "I mean, with relationships and all that."

  Innogen sighed theatrically. "Oh, it's a complicated matter. I've been talking to Valentina about it for hours. For us, it's less about love and more about alliances and commitments." She took a sip from her glass. "My father had probably already compiled a list of potential husbands before I could even walk."

  "Terrible," muttered Valentina.

  "It has its pros and cons," Innogen replied with a shrug. "On the one hand, it takes the pressure off finding 'the one'. On the other hand..." She fell silent for a moment. "Well, let's just say that romance and passion often fall by the wayside."

  Crispin disagreed somewhat. "It's not like that for men," he said, his voice softer than usual. "There's this constant pressure to be experienced. As if your worth as a man depends on how many conquests you can boast."

  Valentina looked at him in surprise. She had never heard Crispin talk so openly about this subject before. To be quite honest, she hadn’t even seen him as much of a man in that way until now.

  "Really?" she asked. "It's very different in the country. There, men are more expected to be... well, reserved. At least until marriage."

  Innogen laughed in disbelief. "Oh Val, you sweet, innocent thing. Do you really think the men in your village abide by that?"

  Valentina blushed again. "I... I don't know. We don't really talk about it. It's not proper."

  "How delightfully naive," Vyxara commented, laughing like Innogen. "As if silence would extinguish lust. Trust me, little Weaver, things happen in your village that would make your eyes pop out of your head."

  "It's the same everywhere," Crispin said bitterly. "Men are expected to be experienced, but women are supposed to remain pure and innocent. How is that supposed to work? Even if I were to find a woman who..." He blushed and broke off the sentence.

  "Ah, the eternal double standard," Innogen sighed. "You know, in some aristocratic circles, especially in Vandercourt, there are a few... arrangements, I heard."

  Valentina's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

  Innogen leaned forward conspiratorially. "Well, let's just say that there are ways to gain certain experience without jeopardizing your reputation. Discretion is everything."

  Crispin almost choked on his drink. "You mean... paid company?"

  "Among other things, but not only," nodded Innogen. "Also affairs between married couples, secret love affairs during the season in Vandercourt.... The list is long."

  Valentina shook her head in disbelief. "That sounds so... complicated. And dangerous. What about unwanted pregnancies? Or diseases?"

  "Ah," Innogen raised a finger, "there are ways and means. In Bridgewater, for example, there's Mara the Herbwife, out on the edge of town. She's a sort of... well, shall we say, an expert in discreet solutions."

  "You mean she makes contraceptives?" Valentina asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  Innogen nodded. "And more. Potions that can cause delayed bleeding, ointments against certain diseases... She is a true scholar when it comes to such things."

  "Fascinating," muttered Vyxara. "This Mara sounds like an interesting acquaintance. Perhaps we should pay her a visit, little Weaver. You never know when such knowledge might come in handy."

  Valentina tried to ignore the demon's voice, but the words echoed in her head. She thought of her experience with Barnaby and shuddered slightly.

  Crispin frowned. "Isn't that... well, immoral? I mean, the Church of the Martyr teaches us that such interference in the natural course of things is wrong."

  Innogen snorted. "The Church teaches us many things, Crispin. But do you really think even the most pious Ember and Kindle always abide by those rules? Life is complicated, and sometimes you have to make pragmatic decisions. My father says the Scorchbishop of Vandercourt is the biggest whoremonger you can imagine."

  "But it's dangerous, isn't it?" asked Valentina anxiously. "I mean, potions and ointments like that... surely they can cause harm?"

  "Of course there are risks," Innogen admitted. "But Mara knows what she's doing. She's careful and only uses the purest ingredients... um, so I've heard. Besides," she added with a wry smile, "the alternatives are often even more dangerous."

  Valentina thought of the young girls in her village who had become pregnant too early. The shame, the rejection from their families, the desperate attempts to end the pregnancy. Suddenly Mara's work appeared to her in a different light.

  "I understand what you mean," she said quietly. "It may not be ideal, but there are situations where it may be the better option."

  Crispin looked at her in surprise. "I didn't expect that from you, Val. You've always been so... traditional in your views."

  Valentina shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe I learned to look at things from a different perspective. The world isn't always as black and white as we think."

  "Bravo, little Weaver," Vyxara applauded in her head. "You're starting to see out through the bars."

  "What's it like for you, Crispin?" Innogen asked curiously. "You mentioned earlier that there's pressure on men to be experienced. How do you deal with that?"

  Crispin blushed deeply and stared into his glass. "I... well, I'm not really... I mean, I haven't..."

  "Oh," Innogen said in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

  "It's all right," Crispin mumbled, "it's just... it sometimes feels like I'm the only one who hasn't had any experience. Like I'm somehow left behind."

  Valentina put her hand on his arm sympathetically. "You're not, Crispin. There's no right time for things like this. Everyone has their own pace."

  Crispin smiled gratefully at her.

  "You know," she said, changing the subject, "I sometimes wonder what it would be like if we all talked more openly about these things. If there weren't so many taboos and secrets."

  Innogen nodded thoughtfully. "That would certainly be interesting. But I'm afraid society wouldn't stand it. There are too many entrenched ideas and power structures based on these taboos."

  "Yes," Crispin agreed. "Just think of the Church of the Martyr. It has an enormous influence on people's morals. A more open attitude to sexuality would undermine their authority."

  "But isn't that exactly the point?" asked Valentina. "Shouldn't we be able to decide for ourselves what is right and wrong instead of letting others tell us how to live?"

  "Now you're speaking from my heart, little Weaver," Vyxara purred contentedly. "Maybe there's hope for you after all."

  The discussion went on for a while, becoming more and more profound and philosophical. They talked about the nature of love, the importance of intimacy and how difficult it can be to find your own way in a world full of expectations and prejudices. She felt so understood, when she talked so openly with her friends and found out, that they had the same doubts and questions as she had.

  When they finally changed the subject, Valentina felt strangely liberated. It was as if something had loosened inside her, a knot of insecurities and fears that she hadn't even known existed.

  She looked at her friends and smiled. Innogen, with her urbane manner and sharp mind. Crispin, gentle and thoughtful, with a heart of gold. And she herself, somewhere in between, still searching for her place in the world.

  "You have good friends, little Weaver," Vyxara said softly. "Cherish them. But never forget that you have to go your own way. No matter what others think or say."

  For the first time, Valentina found herself in complete agreement with the demon. She raised her glass and clinked glasses with the others "To friendship and love and all the good things in life." Innogen and Crispin joined in enthusiastically.