I’d been working on the water wheel in my limited spare time for a few span. It was more than just a project to me—it was a way to bring some of what I remembered from my old life into this one. A way to make a difference on the farm. I wasn’t naive; I knew it was risky, building something like this where no one had ever seen a design like it. But I knew it would help Ged and Ross, make the work easier, refine the harvest, and maybe give the family some much-needed relief from the labor of the farm. Plus there was no magic involved here.

Over breakfast that morning, I was finally ready to finish it. All it needed was the last few pieces put into place. But I couldn’t do it alone.

“You’re wasting your time on that damn thing,” Reece grumbled between mouthfuls of bread. He hadn’t even looked up from his plate, but the irritation in his voice was unmistakable. “All the time you’ve spent on it, we could’ve cleared another field or gotten more of the harvest ready.”

“Reece,” I said, keeping my tone calm, “the wheel’s going to save us time in the long run. It’ll make the harvest easier to refine, and that means more profit. You’ll see.”

He snorted, setting his cup down harder than necessary. “That’s if it works, which it won’t. You don’t know this farm like I do, Rags. You’re all ideas, but no real work.”

Sophia, sitting between us, cut in gently, “Reece, give him a chance. He’s worked hard on it. We’re all tired, but the wheel could really help.” She offered a soft smile, trying to ease the tension. “Besides, we’re not losing much by letting him finish it. It’s almost done.”

Reece shot her a look, clearly annoyed, but he held his tongue. I saw his hand tighten around his fork. He hated being challenged, especially by Sophia.

I took a breath, hoping her support might sway him. “Look, I just need a hand with the last part. I can’t do it by myself, and I’d appreciate the help.”

Reece leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Fine, I’ll help. But when it breaks, you’re the one telling Da it was a waste of time.” He glanced at Sophia, then at me. “And don’t come crying when it falls apart.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, keeping my temper in check. I didn’t want a fight before the day even started.

We finished breakfast in silence, Reece’s skepticism hanging over the table like a muffled blanket. Sophia gave me an encouraging nod as we headed outside, and I felt a small flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—it would all go according to plan.

The morning was cool, the sunlight filtering through the trees as we made our way to the river. The waterwheel loomed tall by the bank, its wooden frame casting shot, sharp shadows over the flowing water.

I had spent countless hours building it, hammering each piece into place, checking the alignment, making sure everything fit perfectly. Every nail I drove into the wood, every plank I cut to size, felt like more than just carpentry. This was my lifeline—my chance to prove I wasn’t just some outsider with no value. For all their kindness, Ged and Ross still looked at me like I was something fragile, someone to be sheltered. Reece, on the other hand, made no effort to hide how little he thought of me. His constant jabs about my "soft hands" gnawed at me, his remarks about me not pulling my weight hitting deeper than I let on.

This water wheel was more than just a tool for the farm. It was my way of contributing something real, something that would make a lasting impact. It wasn’t the same as tilling the soil or gathering the harvest, but it was still work—work that could ease the strain on their lives. The design was old, from a time before all this, before my body had been transformed into something unfamiliar. Back then, I had built wheels like this for villages that depended on them for survival. This wasn’t just about wheat and barley; it was about showing them I wasn’t just here to take up space. I could still make a difference.

Each evening after a long day’s labor, I would return to the half-finished structure by the river. The rhythmic sound of the water, the quiet hum of the forest, it all became a kind of solace. In those moments, as I worked under the setting sun or by the light of the moon, it felt like I could breathe. My hands, once worn from years of wielding a sword, now grew rough again, but this time from wood and stone—this time from something productive.

I imagined how it would look when it was finished, the wooden spokes spinning effortlessly, the gears turning with precision, driven by the river’s natural force. I could see the grain being fed through, ground finely into flour, making the harvest more valuable, increasing the farm’s yield. It would change everything, I was sure of it. And maybe, just maybe, they’d stop seeing me as an outsider and start seeing me as one of them.

But it wasn’t just about that. The wheel was a connection to my past—something that reminded me of who I had been before this transformation, before the Faye, before Myia. I had lost so much, but the knowledge of how to build something like this, something that could help people, had remained. In a way, it gave me hope that not everything had been stripped away.

Of course, there were moments of doubt. Nights where I wondered if this was even worth it. What if it failed? What if Reece was right, and this whole project was just a waste of time? But each time those thoughts crept in, I pushed them aside. I couldn’t afford to give in to doubt. Not when I was so close. If this worked, it would be a way forward—not just for me, but for the farm, for Ged and Ross, for Sophia.

I had to believe that.

“Alright,” I said, turning to Reece, “I just need you to steady the supports while I finish securing the upper planks. It won’t take long.”

Reece sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Sophia stood by the riverbank, watching us work. She offered words of encouragement whenever the wheel creaked or groaned, her presence calming my nerves. But I could feel Reece’s impatience, like a blade at my back.

“You sure this thing won’t just snap?” Reece asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t know why Da let you waste your time on it.”

“It won’t snap,” I replied firmly, trying not to let his words get under my skin. “If you’d just hold it steady for a moment—”

“I’m holding it,” Reece snapped, his knuckles white as he gripped the support beams. “But this whole thing’s a joke.”

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I climbed up the side of the wheel, securing the final plank, sweat dripping down my brow. It was almost done. We were so close. But then, Reece shifted his grip, moving the beam slightly out of place.

“Reece, don’t—!” I started, but it was too late.

The wheel groaned loudly, the supports shuddering beneath us. Reece, annoyed and careless, had let go too soon. The entire structure tilted, the rushing water slamming into it harder than before. The creaking grew louder, more ominous, as the wheel began to wobble.

“Stop messing around!” I shouted, trying to steady it myself, but Reece only smirked.

“Maybe you should’ve built it better,” he taunted, taking a step back. “See? It’s already falling apart.”

And then, with a deafening crack, the entire structure groaned under the strain, a terrible sound that echoed through the clearing like the final snap of a taut rope. I froze, watching in helpless horror as the top planks—those I had carefully carved and hammered into place—splintered with a sharp, agonizing creak. The wood, which had once seemed so sturdy, now fractured like brittle bones. Pieces of timber exploded outward, twisting unnaturally as if the very force of the water had turned against it.

For a split second, everything seemed to pause, time itself holding its breath as the wheel swayed on its broken axis. Water surged around it in chaotic whirlpools, the river's once steady current now a raging force determined to drag the wheel into its depths.

Then, with a thunderous lurch, the entire wheel shifted forward, crashing into the river with a violence that made my chest tighten. The water erupted in a cascade of white foam as the structure buckled and collapsed into the torrent, vanishing beneath the surface like a stone swallowed by a bottomless sea.

In that same breath, Reece, who had been standing too close, too arrogant to heed my warnings, lost his footing. His face twisted in shock as his boots slid on the slick stones at the river’s edge. His arms flailed, grasping at the air, but there was nothing to hold on to. He tumbled forward, his body hitting the water with a splash that sent ripples racing outward. The current, stronger and faster than I had realized, grabbed hold of him, pulling him into its relentless embrace.

For a heartbeat, I stood frozen, watching Reece’s form disappear beneath the churning surface. His hands clawed at the water, trying to fight his way back to the bank, but the river was merciless, dragging him farther downstream with each passing second.

“Reece!” Sophia cried, rushing toward the bank.

I didn’t hesitate hearing Sophia's cry, instinct took over. Without thinking, I leapt from the bank, my boots plunging into the icy grip of the river. The cold slammed into me, stealing my breath for a moment, but I forced myself forward, each step a battle against the surging current. The river, no longer a peaceful stream but a roaring force of nature, crashed against my legs, threatening to sweep me off my feet.

Reece was floundering, his arms thrashing in the water as he struggled to keep his head above the surface. His eyes were wide with panic, his mouth gasping for air between desperate gulps of water. Broken pieces of the wheel spun in chaotic circles around him, jagged shards of wood bobbing like wreckage from a storm. I could see the fear etched across his face, the same fear I had felt once, so long ago, in a different life.

I pushed forward, the river pulling at me like a thousand invisible hands. My feet slipped on the uneven rocks below, the water rising to my waist as I fought to close the distance. The cold seeped into my bones, and with every step, I felt the tug of the river wanting to pull me under, to drag me down into its dark depths.

I reached out, my hand grasping for Reece, the cold biting into my fingers as I latched onto his collar. "Hold on!" I shouted, my voice drowned out by the roar of the water. With a heave, I pulled him toward the shore, my muscles straining against the weight of him and the relentless pressure of the current. Every fiber of my body screamed in protest, but I refused to let go.

The debris from the wheel swirled around us, jagged pieces of timber crashing into my legs, tearing at my skin. Then, suddenly, one of the larger planks wedged itself between the rocks and pinned my leg. Pain shot through me, sharp and immediate. I gritted my teeth, feeling the pressure tighten as the current pressed the wood harder against me, locking me in place.

My heart raced, panic rising in my chest as I realized I was stuck. The cold river pushed against me, swirling and foaming, trying to drag me down. I knew I could use my magic, could feel the faint traces of light even now, though under the water they were murky and distant, like stars obscured by clouds. But I couldn’t. Not here. Not with the Arcana still lingering somewhere in the distance, always watching, always waiting. Not with Reece here, too, his hatred of magic a shadow that loomed over us both.

“Get out of here!” I shouted, my voice raw as I shoved Reece toward the shore with all the strength I could muster. "Go!"

He hesitated, his eyes locking onto mine, fear and confusion battling within them. For a moment, I thought he would refuse, would stand there frozen in his terror. But then, with a final push, I sent him stumbling toward the bank. His body lurched out of the water, coughing and gasping, dragging himself up the slippery stones toward safety.

I wasn’t so lucky. The plank, lodged against the rocks, was crushing my leg, and no matter how hard I strained, I couldn’t pull free. The cold was numbing my limbs, the current battering me relentlessly, threatening to drag me down into the swirling abyss. I could feel the magic in me stir, the temptation to call upon it whispering in the back of my mind. A part of me wanted to give in, to let it surge through me and tear the debris away, but I pushed the thought aside. I couldn’t. Not yet. Not here.

I grit my teeth, grabbing hold of the wooden beam with both hands, and yanked as hard as I could. My muscles screamed in protest, but slowly, agonizingly, the plank shifted, just enough to give me room to pull my leg free. The pain was excruciating, but I forced myself to my feet, gasping for breath as I struggled toward the shore, the weight of the river pressing against every step.

Just as my strength began to fade, I felt a strong hand wrap around my arm, hauling me out of the water with a powerful tug. It was Ged. His face was grim, his jaw set in a hard line as he dragged me up onto the bank, collapsing beside me in the wet grass.

"You stubborn fool," Ged muttered, though there was a hint of relief in his voice.

Ged looked at the broken wheel, then back at Reece and me. His face was a mask of disappointment.

“What in the hell happened here?” Ged demanded, his voice low and stern.

Reece didn’t answer. He just stood there, dripping wet, his eyes cast down in shame.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice hoarse. “The wheel... it broke. Reece—”

But Ged held up a hand, cutting me off. “It’s too dangerous. We’re not using it, Ragan.dismantle it tomorrow. We can’t afford for an accident, not now”

I saw it then, the flicker of satisfaction in Reece’s eyes. He was relieved, maybe even pleased, that the wheel had failed. That my hard work had come to nothing.

I couldn’t help it. I felt the sting of tears burning at the corners of my eyes. Not just from the exhaustion or the cold, but from the frustration, the loss. Months of effort, gone in an instant. And Reece… Reece just stood there, watching, as if this was all part of some cruel game.

“Let’s get back to the farmhouse,” Ged said, turning away. “There’s work to be done.”

Sophia gave me a sympathetic look, but I could barely meet her gaze. I followed them back, the weight of failure heavy on my shoulders, knowing Reece had won this round.

I spent every evening of the next span dismantling the remains of the water wheel. In truth, it should have only taken me two nights, but the weight of disappointment slowed me down. My anger toward Reece had faded, replaced by a gnawing sense of failure. If I had built the wheel better, if I had been more careful, maybe it would have worked. In the end, I only had myself to blame.