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Sword at my side felt heavier than it should, the leather-wrapped hilt warm under my fingers, like it was calming me in its own way. Loth’s words echoed in my mind: ‘Keep it close.’ A low, bitter laugh escaped me, and my fingers brushed the hilt as I walked. It wasn’t just a weapon. It was a choice for me, the only choice that I had after failing to awaken my magic, after not having that one thing that every living being has, a core. Sometimes even I wonder if the beliefs of villagers were true.

The village square spread out before me, it was small, with a water well in the middle, with a road going straight and one on the left. Muddy paths, slick from the recent rain, and wooden stalls stood empty. The air was filled with the smell of bread from the nearby bakery, mingling with the scents of fresh fruits from the stalls and the dung from the hitched mules and donkeys. While such aromas were common, the changing weather was taking a toll on the harvest. The rain was adversely affecting the crops, prompting farmers to use every means possible to harvest quickly, even resorting to transferring produce from the fields when necessary.

The dreams flashed in my mind again with the visions of war-ravaged lands, soaked in blood, skies stained red like they were bleeding. And her, always her. The woman with golden hair and eyes as bright as the sky, fighting beside me. Our swords moved in perfect harmony, cleaving through enemies as if they were nothing. Like dancers cutting through the chaos. Her presence calmed me, even in that nightmare. I could still feel the clash of metal, the weight of her beside me, the sound of her voice echoing in the back of my mind.

My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword, that warmth grounded me back to the present. I couldn’t afford to lose myself in those dreams, not now. Ahead of me stood the alchemist’s shop, a small wooden building at the edge on the left part of the village, its weathered walls covered in creeping ivy, like slow-growing fingers crawling up toward the roof.

The sign with a spoon inside the cauldron hangs above the door, beneath it, letters spelled out ‘Potions and Elixirs’. It swayed gently in the wind, creaking with every swing.

I hesitated at the threshold, feeling the weight of my past settle over my shoulders. Walking into the shop used to feel different. Now, with that woman constantly occupying my mind, there was a guilt hanging over me. Engaging with other women felt wrong, especially with someone I once loved. It feels like I'm committing adultery.

I pushed open the door, the cold iron handle sending a chill through my hand. The scent of dried herbs and old wood hit me as soon as I stepped inside, thick and familiar. The dim interior was bathed in the earthy smell of ingredients. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, and shelves lined the walls, packed with jars of strange powders and ingredients, vials of colourful liquids, and potions in every shape and size. A faint humming sound came from the back room, barely audible over the rustle of the herbs swaying above me.

“Eliza?” I called, my voice rougher than I’d intended.

There was a soft shuffle from the back room, and soon a beautiful young woman appeared, wiping her hands on her apron. Her brown hair was tied back in a loose braid, with strands falling free to frame her face. Her hazel eyes brightened when they met mine. There was a warmth in her gaze—one that made me feel at ease every time. If not for Valerie, I would have grabbed her by her slim waist, and told her how much I loved her, but that was in the past, now that love has faded.

“Einar,” she greeted me with a soft smile, her voice carrying that familiar, gentle cheerfulness she always had. “It’s been a while.”

I forced a smile, though it felt stiff. “Yeah, been busy.”

“Busy with what, exactly?” she teased, raising an eyebrow as she wiped her hands on her apron again. “Chopping wood, I’m sure.” There was a playfulness in her voice, the kind that tried to ease the tension between us. “Or running off to strange lands again... what was it this time? Mythoria?”

“Something like that,” I muttered, glancing around at the shelves. I didn’t want to linger here longer than necessary. “I need a minor healing potion. Alira and I are heading up to Iris Lake.”

Her expression softened, and she turned to the shelves, her movements fluid and practiced as she scanned the rows of vials. “Alira is a force of nature,” she said fondly, pulling a small bottle from the shelf and holding it up to the light. The liquid inside shimmered, deep red, like the blood I couldn’t seem to escape in my dreams.

“Awakening her magic without any formal training?” Eliza mused, turning the vial in her hand. “That’s... impressive. I’ve never seen anything like it, not even in the cities.”

“You are a prodigy in your own right—the only sorceress in the village.”

“There’s your mother too; don’t you forget my sweet aunt.”

Yes, Eliza is another sorceress, though she is not as powerful as my mother. She is relatively inexperienced, having never received formal training herself. At around nineteen, she is two years older than me. She learned from her parents when they lived in the city, but after their deaths during an expedition, she moved to these faraway lands.

“Well, for my defence, we live outside the village.”

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“Your mother is remarkable. She even taught me a new spell, a fire spell, though it’s not always stable for me.”

“Yeah, she is. She even taught Alira herself.”

“Ah, Alira. She is quite different.”

“She’s... different,” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. “Always has been.”

My fingers brushed against hers as I reached for the potion, and for a moment, warmth bloomed where our hands met. I felt something pull, like the universe was trying to draw us closer, but I pulled back quickly, tightening my grip around the vial. I couldn’t go down that path. Not with her, I couldn’t hurt her. She was not just a friend; she had become family.

Her hazel eyes lingered on me, soft but searching, like she was trying to see past the walls I’d built to protect her. “You’re lucky to have her as a sister,” she said quietly, her voice filled with warmth that made something tighten in my chest. “She’s going to do great things. I can feel it.”

I looked away, my eyes drifting to the herbs hanging above the counter. “Yeah. She will.” The words tasted heavy in my mouth. There was something bitter about them that I couldn’t explain. Every time I thought of Alira’s potential and her future, it filled me with envy, despite how much I cared for her.

Eliza broke the silence with a soft smile, though something unspoken lingered in her eyes. “That’ll be ten iron tips.”

I fumbled with the pouch at my side, pulling out the small square iron coins and handing them to her. She took them with the same quiet grace she always had, her movements careful and practiced. But there was tension there too, something unsaid hanging in the air between us.

“Thanks,” I muttered, slipping the potion into the left side of my waist bag. “For the potions… and the talk.”

“Anytime for you,” she said softly. Her eyes held mine for a second longer than they should have, searching for something, though the words she wanted to say never came. She hesitated, then gave me another, smaller smile before looking down.

I nodded, turning toward the door, feeling the weight of her gaze on my back as I pulled it open and stepped out into the cold, overcast morning.

The wind hit me like a slap, sharp and biting, tugging at my hair as it carried the scent of rain. I stood there for a moment, letting the cold settle into my skin, but it did little to clear my mind. The woman from my dreams lingered like an echo I couldn’t shake, a presence that stayed with me no matter how hard I tried to forget. Every time I thought I was free of her, she came back—an unwanted memory that refused to fade.

With a long breath, I adjusted the sword at my side and started walking.

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The cabin came into view, its weathered wood blending seamlessly with the surrounding forest, as if it had always been part of the landscape. Smoke curled lazily from the stone chimney, carrying the scent of burning pine, sharp and earthy. The woods were dense, the trees standing tall and unyielding, but the space in front of the cabin had been cleared, leaving enough room for the woodcutting block and the neat pile of logs stacked beside it.

Before I could reach the door, it creaked open, and Alira burst out like a shot of energy, her red hair catching the light, glowing like fire. She was always like this—a force of nature. All energy, all impatience. Her grin was wide, full of life. It contrasted sharply with the heaviness that had been pressing down on me since morning.

“Took you long enough!” she called, bouncing on her toes, restless as ever. “You’re slower than a turtle.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, despite myself. “Had to make sure the sword was worth the wait. Loth didn’t disappoint.” I reached out, ruffling her hair, but she ducked under my hand, swatting me away with a laugh that echoed in the quiet clearing.

Her eyes darted to the sword strapped at my side, her curiosity plain on her face. “Let me see it!” she demanded, her voice buzzing with excitement.

I sighed, unbuckling the sheath, and drew the blade. The steel caught the afternoon light, gleaming brightly, flawless. I could see the reflection of the sky on its polished surface. Her breath hitched for a moment as she stared, eyes wide.

“Careful,” I warned, my voice steady, but firm. “It’s not a toy.”

“Just like dad’s,” she whispered, her gaze never leaving the blade, her fingers caressing over the dragon's head. “One day, I’ll have one just like it.” There was that determination in her voice again, the same fierce tone she always had when she talked about her magic.

With a practiced motion, I slid the sword back into its sheath. “A sword, huh? You planning on being a warrior and a sorceress now?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wouldn’t a wand suit you better? You know, for spells.”

"Ma once told me, 'Wands are just a medium for magic, a safety measure. True magic comes from within the sorcerer,'" she said thoughtfully with imitation of mother, her eyes lighting up with realization. "That means I could channel magic through a sword instead."

I let out a dry laugh, arching an eyebrow at her eagerness. "Oh yes, let's just skip our trip and start sword practice right here by the cabin," the sarcasm dripped heavily from my words, though I couldn't quite hide the hint of amusement in my voice.

She pouted, crossing her arms, but the expression didn’t last. A grin quickly broke through, playful and bright. “Fine, fine. But don’t forget your promise! You’re training with me by the lake until I awaken my magic. No excuses.”

I nodded with a smile, though my attention shifted to the cabin window where our mother, Lyna, stood watching us. Her face was shadowed with concern. The quiet kind. She raised her hand in a small wave, but I could see the weight she carried behind her eyes.

“We’ll be back by sunset, Mother,” I called out, my voice louder than it needed to be. Maybe I was trying to reassure her, or maybe I was trying to reassure myself. Either way, it stung—seeing her like that. The once bright, cheerful spirit of our mother now smothered beneath something she wouldn’t share. I could feel it, like there was a storm raging inside her, locked away from us.

Alira grabbed my arm, tugging me forward, and we started down the familiar path into the woods. Her excitement was practically spilling over, her steps quick, eager. She hummed to herself, a tune I didn’t recognize, but the sound was light and carefree, infectious. It made the heaviness in my chest lift, if only a little.

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