Pine and wet soil cling to my clothes as Alira and I trudge along the muddy trail toward our cabin. My muscles ache, and dried goblin blood stains my attire in dark, crusty patches. Our familiar path through the forest feels longer today, each step a reminder of the chaos we'd left behind. But then it hits me... the unmistakable aroma of mother's stew drifting through the evening air, pulling at something deep in my chest. A reminder of simpler times.
"Smell that?" Alira's voice breaks through my brooding. She's grinning as she wipes dirt from her hands, her wild red curls catching the dying light like living flames. "She's making our favorite stew again."
"Guess goblin guts are worth it after all," I mutter, managing a dry chuckle that doesn't quite match the knot of tension still twisted in my gut. The weight of what happened at the lake sits heavy on my shoulders, questions I can't answer gnawing at the edges of my mind.
My sister's laughter rings out, pure and untainted by the day's violence. She bounds ahead as our cabin comes into view, smoke curling from the chimney like beckoning fingers against the darkening sky. The wooden steps creak under her enthusiasm as she bursts through the door.
"We're home!" Her voice echoes off the walls, carrying the same boundless energy she'd somehow maintained through everything.
"Welcome back, my loves!" Mother's voice floats back to us from the kitchen.
The warmth hits me as I step inside, along with the full force of that mouth-watering stew scent. My stomach growls treacherously, but before I can move further, I feel Mother's scrutinizing gaze upon me. She emerges from the kitchen, and though her smile is warm, her eyes rake over my appearance with that particular brand of maternal concern that makes me want to shrink away.
"Einar," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "You're a mess!"
I glance down at my battle-worn state and grimace. "Mm... long day."
Without further commentary, she raises her wand. The familiar soft glow traces intricate patterns through the air as she murmurs, "Purificare." A cool breeze washes over me, and I feel the grime lifting away. The spell seems to reach deeper than just the surface, as if trying to cleanse more than just the physical remnants of the day.
"Thanks," I manage, forcing the corners of my mouth upward slightly.
"What about me?" Alira's mock-indignant voice cuts through the moment. "I want the magic treatment too!"
Mother's laugh lightens the atmosphere. "Come here, Sweetheart. Can't have my princess looking like a mudball." With another flick of her wand, and my sister stands pristine, beaming like she hadn't spent the afternoon in the forest.
"Much better!" she declares, practically bouncing on her toes.
"Sit, both of you." Mother gestures toward the table. "Dinner's ready."
The familiar domestic sounds of bowls and spoons fill our small cabin as we settle in, but there's an undercurrent of tension I can't shake. The normalcy feels almost jarring after what happened at the lake. But Alira, true to form, can't contain her excitement.
"Ma! I'm so close to awakening!" Her eyes shine with that familiar fire. "I could feel it today... The energy around the lake was dancing with my presence. My whole body's soaking it all up."
I see my mother's expression soften, pride and worry dancing in her emerald eyes. "Your magic's growing so fast, my sweet. Your father would have been proud."
The mention of father sends a familiar ache through my chest, and I notice how Alira falters for just a breath before pushing forward with renewed enthusiasm. "And then two goblins showed up out of nowhere!"
Mother's hands freeze, her smile slipping slightly. "Goblins? Near the lake?"
"They weren't strong, mother," I cut in quickly, trying to head off her worry. "We handled them."
Her brow furrows, and I can practically see the fears multiplying behind her eyes. "It's still dangerous out there. I don't want either of you hurt."
"Ma, you should've seen brother!" Alira bursts out, ignoring my warning glare. "He was amazing! He moved so fast with that sword, with one swing, the goblin was dead. I could only see the head flying of that goblin, dropped while its body still standing."
Mother's gaze shifts to me, sharp with surprise. "Really?"
I shrug, uncomfortable under her scrutiny. "It wasn't a big deal. Just... a little fast."
But she's not letting it go. Her eyes bore into me, searching for something. "Your father used to move like that with swords," she says quietly, almost to herself. "But you've never been trained like him."
The silence that follows weighs heavily with unspoken questions. How can I explain what I don't understand myself? That moment when my body moved on its own, guided by some inherited memory I never knew I possessed?
"I don't know," I mumble, studying the wooden grain of our table. "It just... happened in the heat of the fight."
"I'm telling you, Ma!" Alira chirps, oblivious to the tension. "He was incredible! It's like he's been doing it forever. And those fierce eyes of his make him look like a warrior from the storybooks you read to us."
Mother forces a smile and turns back to the stove, stirring the stew with deliberate focus. The weight of her worry fills the room like smoke.
"I'll chop some wood tomorrow," I offer, desperate to change the subject. "Have to pile some up for next batch."
The tension in my mother's shoulders eases slightly. "You've become a fine young man, dear." Her voice was thick with emotion. "Your father would've been happy to see you grow like this."
Something in her words pierces through my usual defenses. Before I can think better of it, I'm on my feet, wrapping her in a tight embrace. "Don't cry, mother," I whisper, my own throat tight. "I'm here. I'll always be here for you and Alira. You both are everything to me."
She sniffs, letting out a watery laugh. "I know, my love. I know."
"Hey!" Alira protests, crossing her arms. "What about me? No hug for your little sister?"
I roll my eyes but can't help grinning. "Alright, come here, little vixen!" I reach out and pull her in, ruffling her hair despite her squealed protests.
Mother's laughter fills our small cabin, and for a moment, I let myself believe everything might be alright. That we can stay in this bubble of warmth and safety forever, just the three of us, whole and together. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I know better.
Something is changing, in me, in our quiet life. And I'm not sure, I'm ready for it.
***
Rhythmic thuds from my axe split the morning air, each strike precise and measured. Sweat trickles down my temple despite the cool breeze, my grey tunic clinging to my back after what must be my hundredth swing. Split logs beside me have grown into a steady pile over the past hour, though many still bear the dampness of recent rains. Birds call to each other in the surrounding forest, their songs mixing with the steady chunk of wood splitting beneath my blade.
My mind wanders to the emptiness of last night's sleep. No dreams. No visions. The absence gnaws at me more than their presence ever did. If these fragments are pieces of a puzzle, what does their silence mean? And Valeria... her name echoes in my thoughts like a half-remembered song.
The prickling sensation of being watched pulls me from my reverie. I've grown too comfortable here, let my guard down enough to miss the approach of another presence. When I turn toward the path leading to the village, I find Eliza leaning against a tree, her hazel eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes something in my chest tighten. Her brown hair catches the morning light, and her gown and apron speak of errands to come. The leather bag at her side bulges with empty jars, and her wand—rich brown with its twin rune symbols—rests ready at her hip.
I clear my throat. "Seen enough?" The playful tone feels forced, but old habits die hard.
"Don't mind me, please continue." The seductive edge in her voice catches me off guard. It's not her usual way, and something about it triggers that familiar ache of betrayal in my gut.
"What brings you here?" I ask, wiping my face with my sleeve. The motion pulls my tunic tight across my chest, and I notice her gaze follow the movement.
She taps the bag at her side, glass clinking within. "Need to go find some... herbs. Rare. For the new potion I've been working on."
When she moves to help gather the scattered wood, she draws closer than necessary. The scent of wildflowers and herbs clings to her clothes, familiar yet somehow wrong now.
"Hm, herbs? Going alone?"
"Not planning on going deep, just by the lake."
I glance over my shoulder at her, pausing mid-reach for another log. "Lake? I will be going with Alira in an hour. Why don't you come with us?"
A small smile plays at her lips. "I don't want to come between her training." Her words say one thing, but the hope in her eyes tells another story.
"It's no bother, join us," I say, tossing the last piece of wood under the shed. "She won't mind."
"If you say so." Her smile brightens, and something twists in my chest.
When I reach for the wood in her arms, our hands brush. Her skin is cold against mine, and I see her shiver, not from the chill. That touch carries too much history, too many memories of what might have been. Part of me warms at her obvious feelings, but another growing part feels hollow, dead.
"Why don't you two come inside?" Mother's voice breaks through the tension as she leans out the hall window. "Breakfast is ready."
Eliza jumps back, her cheeks flushing red. "Yes, Aunt Lyna."
I nod, following her toward the cabin door. Each step feels heavier than the last. These changes in my feelings, my nature... they're becoming harder to ignore. Months ago, having her look at me that way would have made me the happiest man in the world. Now...
"Valeria," I whisper, the name slipping out unbidden. It tastes like destiny and doom on my tongue, and I don't know which scares me more.
***
The rich aroma of the soup hit differently as we stepped into the cabin. Away from the morning's damp earth and pine, the warmth of herbs and meat fills my lungs. The familiar scent of fresh-baked bread mingles with it, drawing us toward the hall where Mother and Alira already sit at our worn wooden table.
I settle into my usual spot on the right, the chair's familiar creaks matching the subtle pop of burning wood from the kitchen hearth. The pot on the stove still simmers, sending wisps of steam into the air.
"Eliza, what brings you here this morning?" Mother's voice carries that particular tone of careful warmth that she reserves for her.
"I needed some herbs for a new remedy." Eliza smooths her apron as she speaks. "Einar invited me to join him."
"Oh, that's good. Forest is not the same these days." Mother's words carry a weight she doesn't fully express, but I catch the shadow in her eyes.
Alira pipes up through a mouthful of bread, crumbs spraying onto the table. "She's coming with us?"
"Yes, she's going to the lake." I reach for a piece of bread, avoiding Eliza's gaze.
"You don't mind, do you?" Eliza asks Alira, though her question seems directed more at the space between us.
My sister shakes her head, grinning. "No, it's good to have someone to talk to, other than my brother here, who goes serious whenever we enter the forest."
Their giggles float through the air, Mother joining in, but I focus on my soup. The vegetables have softened just right, carrying the familiar blend of herbs she always uses.
"Aunt, thanks for teaching me the spell." Eliza's voice grows softer. "You know how much it means to me. It's already rare for learning spells outside schools."
Mother places her hand over Eliza's, her smile gentle but tired. "You are calling me 'Aunt' and embarrassing me like this. It was just a spell, dear. It's your talent for learning it without a proper spell book giving you detailed instructions on it."
The pride in my mother's voice shifts to concern as she continues. "But be careful when casting that spell. It's powerful, yes... but it needs a stable connection between the wand and its master. And you use the wand that is not linked to you."
"Yes. You are right. I'll be careful, Aunt."
Alira leans forward, her curiosity piqued. "Linked? What does that mean?"
"Sweetheart, it means that the wand she uses is not compatible with her, not linked with her magic signature or her essence to guide it." Mother's explanation carries the patience of someone who's answered countless questions about magic over the years.
"That seems harsh. How will I get a compatible wand?"
Mother's smile returns. "For that, you will have to enter any of the five sorcery schools. That's the easiest and safest way."
"School..." Alira breathes the word like a prayer.
"Eliza here is much more talented than anyone I have seen. If..." Mother's gaze drifts to me, and something in her expression makes my stomach tighten. "She had been given a chance, she would have left a name in the magical world, but..." She pauses, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. "Fate has something else for her. Her true talent lies in alchemy and her love for nature. Noble path to walk on, not many choose to help others."
Eliza flushed at the compliment, her cheeks turning pink as she looked down at the table, clearly embarrassed by the praise. Mother's words seemed to hang in the air, resonating in the quiet that followed. Alira, satisfied with the answer, settled back into her chair, though I could see her mind still turning over the idea of school and magic.
But the silence that follows settles heavily on my shoulders. I focus on my food, but my mind churns with questions. Mother's words about fate echo against memories of my dreams and even their absence. The way she looked at me when speaking of her path... does she know something about my own?
The quiet spreads as we finish our meal, broken only by the soft clink of spoons against bowls and the distant crackle of the hearth. But beneath it all, I feel the tension of things unsaid, of paths diverging, of destinies yet to be revealed.
The soup turns tasteless in my mouth as my thoughts drift to what awaits us at the lake. Something tells me today's gathering of herbs will be more than just a simple forest excursion.