The next morning, Leila woke up with terrible pain in her hands. They were swollen and aching, a harsh reminder of her efforts the previous night. Her fingers looked as if she had tried to shoe an anomalous monster with her bare hands. Leila realized that she had overdone it with the spell the previous night, but on the other hand, she had no regrets. She was relieved to have been given a week to solve the puzzle, leaving her time both to recover and to figure out the encoded message.

At breakfast, Leila carefully hid her swollen hands from the children and the suspicious gaze of Madame Grimm. She even had to skip eating to avoid revealing her painful state.

“Leila, why aren’t you eating?” Madame Grimm asked suspiciously, her eyes fixed on Leila.

“Just not hungry,” Leila hurriedly replied, hiding her hands under the table. “Everything is fine, Madame Grimm.”

“Not hungry?” Grimm snorted, already winding herself up. “Don’t like my food? Show some respect, girl\! I gave you a roof over your head and didn’t throw you out when you asked to stay\! I could have sent you to the streets; you’re old enough to take care of yourself. But no, I took pity on you\! And now look where that’s gotten me\! You’ve been living here almost for free, not contributing a single coin for food, and instead of gratitude, what do I see? Well, don’t count on food here anymore\! Unless you give me a gold piece, then I might reconsider…”

“A gold piece?” Leila exclaimed. “That’s a huge sum\! I couldn’t earn that in a year.”

“Then earn it,” Madame Grimm hissed. “And I might consider not throwing you out. You’re no use to anyone, taking up space, and now you’re turning your nose up at food\!”

Leila had many retorts ready, but she felt so unwell that she decided not to argue. Madame Grimm wouldn’t throw her out anyway—otherwise, who would earn her money?

“I understand, Madame Grimm,” Leila said, rising from the table. The children watched in frightened silence. They always shrank back when Madame Grimm scolded Leila. “I won’t count on your food anymore. Excuse me, I have to go to work.”

“Get out of my sight, ungrateful girl.” Madame Grimm shouted.

Leila nodded, doing her best to hide the pain throbbing in her hands, and walked out the door. The worried children followed her, promising to share their food with her. Leila spent some time reassuring them that everything was fine and that Madame Grimm wasn’t serious. She told them not to save their food for her—the portions were small enough, and they were still growing. How she managed to convince them and hide her condition was known only to the Almighties.

At the shop, Madame Irene was far more observant; there was no hiding Leila’s swollen hands from her. To be honest, Leila didn’t really try.

“Leila, what happened to you?” Madame Irene gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. “Did you try using powerful spells without being used to them? That’s dangerous, you could lose your hands\!”

"I just had a bit of a scuffle with a tricky monster," Leila tried to joke, though it came out weakly. Madame Irene only huffed, and Leila explained, "I was trying to solve the puzzle the Academy gave me. I might have overdone it."

Madame Irene sighed, remembering her late husband.

“He used to do the same thing all the time,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “Always coming back with swollen hands, as if he’d tried to hug a lightning bolt. But don’t worry, I have something that will help.”

Leila was relieved of her duties—no recharging artifacts when her most important tool wasn’t in working order. Madame Irene got to work immediately. Her movements were precise and confident, as if she had done this hundreds of times. She retrieved a small porcelain bowl from her supplies and carefully poured a thick green potion into it, which gave off a pleasant, herbal aroma.

Madame Irene lit a few aromatic candles, filling the room with a light smoke that mingled with the scent of the potion, creating a calming atmosphere. In the flickering candlelight, her movements seemed even more fluid and magical. She added a few rose petals and a pinch of golden powder, which flashed brightly as they dissolved into the thick liquid. She muttered something over the potion, and it began to sparkle.

“Sit here,” Madame Irene ordered, pointing to a chair by the worktable. “Dip your hands into the bowl and keep them there until you feel some relief.”

With curiosity and caution, Leila immersed her hands in the warm liquid. The warmth instantly spread through her fingers, sinking into her skin and starting its work. The pain began to fade, replaced by a pleasant tingling. The swelling visibly reduced, and the tension that had built up in her hands gradually dissipated, leaving behind a sense of lightness and calm.

“This is amazing, Madame Irene\!” Leila groaned, feeling a wave of relief wash over her hands.

“There, much better,” Madame Irene smiled. “My husband always said this potion was real magic in a bottle. Just don’t overdo it next time, alright? Magic is a delicate thing. You need to learn patience and practice. We all learn from our mistakes.”

“I’ll remember that, Madame Irene,” Leila said, smiling with genuine gratitude.

The day at the shop passed quietly, and Leila was feeling better and better. She asked Madame Irene for the book she had used the day before for the spell, and when she got it, she realized where she had made her mistake. Leila had forgotten the correct hand gestures\!

The fact that she had managed anything at all, and that her hands had survived in relatively decent condition, was nothing short of a miracle. Leila promised herself she would never use spells from memory again. If she lost her hands, her path to the Academy would be closed. Thankfully, she still had a full week ahead, and Leila was determined to solve the puzzle of the box. But now, she knew she needed to be cautious and pay attention to every detail.

“I’ll try again tomorrow,” Leila thought, looking at her nearly normal hands. “But this time, I’ll be more careful.”

With these thoughts in mind, she spent the rest of the day preparing for the next challenge, hopeful that her efforts would soon bear fruit.

The next morning, Leila felt much better. Thanks to Madame Irene’s miraculous potion, her hands were almost back to normal. Today, she would attempt another round of magical experiments, but this time she was ready to proceed with caution.

That evening, once everyone at the orphanage had fallen asleep, Leila once again retrieved the box from its hiding place. The moonlight, filtering through the dirty window, gently illuminated her hands, and the box responded with warmth at her touch, as if it recognized Leila. She instinctively infused it with her magic, and the lid opened. Inside, nothing had changed: three sticks, with one marked by the rune Ansuz, the other two still blank.

“So far, so good,” Leila muttered excitedly, picking up the second stick.

This time, she knew exactly what to do. She positioned her fingers properly—gesture number four on her left hand, gesture two on her right—then brought her hands together, channeled her magic into her fingers, watching it spiral correctly, and only then recited the rhyme spell. Her efforts were immediately rewarded: a glowing rune, Raido, appeared on the surface of the stick.

“Now that’s more like it,” Leila grinned, feeling a surge of confidence.

The third stick proved even easier to handle. By now, Leila had fully mastered the right amount of magic to use, and the process flowed smoothly. She confidently recited the “Rune Illumination” spell, and almost immediately, the result appeared.

The runes manifested quickly and clearly, as if they had been waiting all along for her magic. Leila smiled, pleased with herself.

“Perfect,” she said, looking at the three sticks, each now glowing with runes. “Looks like I’m on the right track. But what comes next?”

Leila stared at the runes: *Ansuz*, *Raido*, and *Kenaz*. Three of them. Not too many, but also not too few—sometimes a single rune was enough to create something extraordinary, while at other times, a chain of ten runes barely worked at all, sputtering weakly. It all depended on the power of the charge and the skill of the caster—neither of which Leila possessed in abundance.

“I have no idea what they mean,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Maybe I should ask Madame Irene for a book on runes? That’s a good idea.”

Leila set the sticks down on the table, planning to examine them more closely the next day. Everything was going much better than she had expected. Madame Irene’s potion had truly been magic in a bottle, and Leila’s newfound caution and diligence were starting to pay off.

“Tomorrow, I’ll figure out what these runes mean,” Leila said to herself, feeling the weariness finally catching up with her. “But for now, I need some rest.”