The warm glow of Murkrest’s lanterns greeted Agan and Garik as they crossed the last stretch of marshland toward the village. It had been a silent walk back, each step dragging in the mud, exhaustion hanging over them like a weight they couldn’t shake.

Nara met them at the edge of the village, relief flooding her face. “There you two are! Everyone’s been wondering where you—”

Her words died off as she noticed their mud-caked clothes, the bruises visible beneath, and the hollow look in their eyes. She grabbed Agan’s arm, her face switching from relief to alarm. “What happened?”

“Drake,” Garik muttered, rolling his shoulder as he flexed his hand, which was still caked with drying mud. “Got a little too close for comfort.”

Agan managed a faint nod, the tension of the day still thrumming beneath his skin. He wanted to explain, to tell Nara about the way the drake had hunted them, how they’d barely escaped. But he didn’t trust himself to speak; his throat felt dry, his mind still racing.

Before he could say anything, a few villagers gathered nearby noticed their arrival, whispering in low tones as they took in the boys’ disheveled appearance.

“Looks like they ran into trouble,” one of them murmured, shaking his head.

“They’re lucky it was just a drake,” another added, though her tone held more relief than scorn. “Those creatures have been getting bolder lately.”

“Drakes don’t just wander close to the village like that,” someone else pointed out, frowning. “There’s something stirring in the swamp.”

Agan caught snippets of their conversation, but he kept his gaze fixed on the ground, unwilling to meet their eyes. He could feel the weight of their words, the growing unease that seemed to be spreading through Murkrest like a shadow.

Just as he was considering slipping away to his hut, his uncle Tarek appeared, his sharp gaze raking over him and Garik with a look that managed to be both relieved and furious. He folded his arms, fixing Agan with a hard stare.

“Thought we taught you better than to play around with drakes,” Tarek said, his voice rough. “And yet here you are, looking like you crawled out of the marsh itself.”

Garik’s face twisted in frustration, but before he could reply, Tarek held up a hand. “Don’t get clever with me. What happened out there?”

Agan took a steadying breath, finally finding his voice. “We were just gathering algaeroot. It came out of nowhere.” He paused, glancing at Garik before continuing. “We managed to get away, but… it was close.”

Tarek’s expression softened slightly, though he didn’t lose the edge in his gaze. “The drakes have been restless,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Noticed more of them prowling too close for comfort. Guess it was only a matter of time before someone crossed paths with one.”

The crowd around them shifted, murmurs rippling through the villagers as they exchanged worried glances. Agan could feel the concern in the air, the unspoken fear that lay beneath their words. They’d grown up in the swamp, knew its dangers better than anyone. But this was different—a new kind of threat, one that seemed to be pushing closer and closer.

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Finally, Tarek gestured for Agan and Garik to follow him, leading them away from the gathering crowd. Nara fell into step beside Agan, her expression tight with worry as they made their way to Tarek’s hut.

Inside, the familiar smell of swamp herbs and dried roots filled the air, and Agan let out a slow breath, feeling a sliver of comfort in the familiar space. Tarek motioned for him and Garik to sit on the low stools by the fire, his gaze flicking between them as he took a seat across from them.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he said, his tone softer but still firm. “I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Agan met his uncle’s gaze, feeling the weight of his attention. He described the encounter with the drake, how it had tracked them through the trees, relentless and determined, how they’d managed to throw it off their trail just long enough to escape.

As he spoke, Tarek’s expression darkened, his mouth pressed into a thin line. When Agan finished, his uncle sat back, letting out a slow breath as he considered the story.

“Drakes don’t usually stalk prey like that,” Tarek murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. “They’re opportunistic, but they don’t chase after things unless they’re desperate.”

Garik let out a huff of frustration. “It didn’t look desperate to me. Looked more like it was out for blood.”

Tarek shot him a sharp look. “Watch your tone, boy. I don’t doubt what you saw, but drakes don’t waste energy unless something’s driving them to it. Something’s riling up the creatures of the swamp. And we need to figure out what it is.”

Agan felt a flicker of unease as he listened, his mind replaying the encounter in his head. The drake’s dark eyes, the way it had watched them with a cold, calculating gaze—it hadn’t felt like a random encounter. It had felt like a warning, a glimpse of something darker lurking just beyond the village.

He glanced at his uncle, his voice hesitant. “Do you think… do you think there’s something pushing them closer? Something we don’t know about?”

Tarek met his gaze, his expression unreadable. “Could be. But I don’t want you worrying about it.” He paused, his tone softening slightly. “You did well out there. But there’s a lot more to learn. You need to be ready for what’s coming.”

Agan straightened, feeling a surge of determination. “Then teach me,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to keep running every time something shows up. I want to be ready.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Tarek’s mouth, though his eyes remained serious. “We’ll start with the basics. Discipline. Control. Strength. It’s not just about being faster or stronger, Agan. It’s about understanding what you’re up against.”

Agan nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities, with the image of himself standing against whatever threats came their way. He could feel a spark of excitement mingling with his fear, a sense of purpose that gave him strength.

Tarek turned to Garik, his expression softening slightly. “And you, Garik. You did well keeping your head out there. I know you and Agan don’t always see eye to eye, but you’ll need each other in the days to come. There’s no room for rivalry if you want to survive.”

Garik’s face twisted, his pride warring with his need for Tarek’s approval. But after a moment, he nodded, his gaze flicking toward Agan with a hint of reluctance.

“Understood,” he muttered, though Agan could sense that the rivalry was far from settled.

Tarek rose, placing a hand on Agan’s shoulder as he spoke. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll begin. The two of you both—no excuses.”

Agan nodded, exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket. He felt a flicker of something close to relief as he followed Garik and Nara out of the hut, the night air cool against his skin as they made their way back toward the village.

Garik cast him a sidelong glance, his expression guarded. “Looks like you got your wish,” he muttered. “Better make the most of it.”

Agan returned the look, his own gaze steady. “I plan to. You should too.”

For a moment, they stood there, a strange understanding passing between them—a truce, however temporary. Agan could feel the weight of the day’s events pressing down on him, the exhaustion creeping in, but beneath it was a new sense of purpose, a determination that burned bright.

As they parted ways, Agan’s thoughts turned to what lay ahead, to the training, the challenges, the dangers that waited just beyond the edge of Murkrest. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, that the path he’d chosen would be marked by hardship and struggle.

But he was ready. And he wasn’t alone.