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The scent of pine and wet soil clings 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. The 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 face, her wild red curls catching the dying light like living flames. "Mom's making our favourite 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, and I catch the undertone of worry she tries to hide. She's been doing that more lately – trying to shield us from her fears with forced cheerfulness.

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. "Yeah... long day."

Without further commentary, she raises her wand. The familiar soft glow traces intricate patterns through the air as she murmurs, "Vistrafeso." A cool breeze washes over me, and I feel the grime lifting away. The magic 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 little sorceress looking like a mudball." With another flick of her wand, and my sister stands pristine, beaming like she hadn't spent the afternoon fighting goblins.

"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... like the energy around the lake was dancing with my presence. My whole body's soaking it all up."

I watch Mother's expression soften, pride and something else – worry? – flickering in her emerald eyes. "You're growing so fast, Sweet. Your father would've 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!"

Mother's hands freeze, her smile slipping slightly. "Goblins? Near the lake?" The forced calm in her voice sets my teeth on edge.

"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."

"Mom, 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 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 trained with them."

The silence that follows weighs heavy 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 glowing eyes of his make him look like a warrior from the legends."

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 Loth."

The tension in Mother's shoulders eases slightly. "You've become a fine young man, honey," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "Your father would've been happy to see you grow."

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."

She sniffs, letting out a watery laugh. "I know, Dear. I know."

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"Hey!" Alira protests, crossing her arms. "What about me? No hug for your amazing sister?"

I roll my eyes but can't help grinning. "Alright, come here, you 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 what comes next.

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The rhythmic thud of my axe splits 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. The pile of split logs beside me has grown steadily 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 Valerie... 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 grown and apron speaks 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 and ingredients, for the new potion I'm creating."

When she moves to help gather the scattered wood, she draws closer than necessary. The scent of lavender and herbs clings to her clothes, familiar yet somehow wrong now.

"Hm, herbs? Going alone?"

"Not planning on going deep, just the lake."

I glance over my shoulder at her, pausing mid-reach for another log. "Iris Lake? I will be going with Alira in an hour, why don't you come with us?"

A small smile plays at her lips. "To train? I don't want to come between her training." Her words say one thing, but the hope in her eyes tells another story. She's been waiting for an invitation like this.

"It's no bother, join us," I say, tossing the last piece of wood under the shelter. "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 part – a 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." The formal title sounds strange coming from her now, after all our shared history.

I nod, following her toward the cabin door. Each step feels heavier than the last. These changes in me – in my feelings, my nature – they're becoming harder to ignore. A month ago, having Eliza look at me that way would have made me the happiest man in the world. Now...

"Valerie," 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.

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The rich aroma of Mother's stew hits differently as Eliza and I step 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?" Mother's voice carries that particular tone she reserves for Eliza – warm, but careful.

"Aunt Lyna, I needed some ingredients for potion." Eliza smooths her apron as she speaks. "Einar invited me to join with him."

"Oh, that's good. Forest is not same." 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. "Eliza'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. "Nah, 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 stew. The vegetables have softened just right, carrying the familiar blend of herbs Mother 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 colleges."

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 – it's your talent for learning a spell without a spell book."

The pride in Mother's voice shifts to concern as she continues. "But be careful to cast that spell. It's powerful, and you use the wand that is not linked to you."

"Yeah, you are right." Eliza's fingers brush against her wand – brown wood marked with twin runes, her mother’s wand.

Alira leans forward, her curiosity peaked. "Linked? What does that mean, Ma?"

"Sweetheart, it means that the wand she uses is not compatible with her, not linked with her magic signature." Mother's explanation carries the patience of someone who's answered countless questions about magic over the years.

"How will I get a compatible wand?"

Mother's smile returns. "For that you will have to join a college, like Zenith. That's the easiest and safest way."

"Zenith..." Alira breathes the word like a prayer.

"Eliza here is much more talented than anyone I have seen." Mother's gaze drifts to me, and something in her expression makes my stomach tighten. "If she would have 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."

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 Zenith 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 – or their absence. The way she looked at me when speaking of Eliza's 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 stew turns tasteless in my mouth as my thoughts drift to what awaits us at Iris Lake. Something tells me today's gathering of herbs will be more than just a simple forest excursion.

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