The first rays of sunlight spilled over Garnett's Reach, painting the cobblestone streets with a soft golden hue. Marydia stood in the shadow of the guild hall, her hood drawn low to shield her face from the bustle of the morning crowd. The weight of her bag, filled with freshly brewed potions, was familiar against her hip, a quiet reassurance that today's work would be productive.
The city had become more than just a waypoint—it was a resource, a forge in which she tempered her skills and sharpened her focus. After months of careful planning, training, and crafting, she had carved out a small but reliable niche for herself in Garnett's Reach. The shops near the market now recognized her as the quiet woman with potent potions that worked better than anything they'd sourced elsewhere. It was good business, and more importantly, it gave her access to information.
Her mornings always began the same way: a visit to a cluster of shops near the eastern gate. Apothecaries, general stores, and even the occasional alchemist bought her stock without hesitation.
"Morning, Miss Graywared," called Halvar, the owner of the Redroot Apothecary, as she approached his stall. He was a balding man with kind eyes and a knack for finding rare ingredients. "Got anything special for me today?"
Marydia placed the bag on the counter, drawing out a set of neatly labeled vials. Each one glimmered faintly, the liquid inside pulsing with mana.
"Mana restoratives, high-grade stamina potions, and a small batch of purification elixirs," she said, her voice calm and even. "Freshly brewed this morning."
Halvar whistled low as he examined the vials, his practiced hands turning them over to inspect the clarity of the liquid. "You outdo yourself every time," he said with a grin, sliding a pouch of coins across the counter. "Fifty silver, as agreed."
She pocketed the money, her expression betraying no emotion. "Let me know if you need anything specific for next week's shipment."
As she turned to leave, Halvar leaned forward conspiratorially. "Word is there's a bounty request posted for the southern woods," he said in a hushed tone. "A warg pack causing trouble. Might be worth looking into if you're feeling up to it."
Marydia gave him a small nod of thanks and continued on her way, her thoughts already shifting to the bounty. She'd heard whispers about the warg pack over the past week—hunters losing livestock, travelers finding mangled remains on the outskirts of the forest. It wasn't the kind of job she took lightly, but it was the kind she needed.
The guild hall was quieter than usual when she arrived. The early morning rush had passed, leaving only a handful of adventurers lingering near the request board. She scanned the postings quickly, her eyes settling on the bounty for the warg pack. The description was sparse but clear:
Target: Warg Pack – Southwood Territory
Threat Level: High
Reward: 150 Gold
Marydia pulled the notice from the board and approached the clerk's desk. The woman behind the counter, a sharp-eyed elf with silver hair, raised an eyebrow as Marydia slid the request across the table.
"Planning to take this solo?" the clerk asked, her tone skeptical.
"Yes," Marydia replied simply, meeting the elf's gaze.
The clerk hesitated, then shrugged. "Your funeral. Sign here."
After filling out the necessary paperwork, Marydia left the hall and headed directly to the forest. She didn't waste time gathering supplies—everything she needed was already in her inventory.
The journey to the southern woods was uneventful, the road empty save for the occasional merchant or farmer passing by. But as she entered the dense thicket, the air grew heavier, the usual sounds of the forest replaced by an eerie silence.
Marydia slowed her pace, her senses sharpening. She reached for her staff, the smooth wood comforting in her grip as she channeled a small pulse of mana into it. A faint glow emanated from the carved runes along its surface, illuminating the shadows around her.
The first warg appeared without warning, its massive frame emerging from the underbrush with a guttural growl. Its fur was matted, its yellow eyes gleaming with hunger. Marydia didn't hesitate.
She raised her staff, summoning a burst of fire that shot forward in a searing arc. The warg howled as the flames engulfed it, its form collapsing into the undergrowth. But the sound had alerted the others.
Within moments, the rest of the pack emerged—four more wargs, their movements fluid and predatory as they circled her.
Marydia shifted her stance, her body humming with the energy of her preparation. She let her mana flow, summoning a vortex of wind that swirled around her. The first warg lunged, and she sidestepped easily, striking it with a concentrated blast of air that sent it crashing into a nearby tree.
The battle was brutal but efficient. Fire and wind intertwined as she moved, her spells precise and devastating. Each warg fell in turn, their howls echoing through the forest until only silence remained.
As the last body hit the ground, Marydia lowered her staff, her breathing steady despite the exertion. Her status flashed faintly in her mind as she took stock of her energy levels:
HP: 3100 / 3100
Mana: 3410 / 4010
Stamina: 2600 / 2900
Qi: 400 / 1500
She had taken no damage, her skills and reflexes honed to a razor's edge. But there was still more to be done. She used a basic cleansing spell to purify the area, ensuring no lingering traces of dark energy remained.
The bounty required proof of the kill, so she retrieved the claws from each warg, carefully storing them in her inventory. With the task complete, she turned and began the journey back to Garnett's Reach.
The city gates came into view just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the streets. Marydia headed straight for the guild hall, the weight of the bounty notice and the warg claws a quiet reassurance that the day's work was done.
The clerk from earlier looked up as Marydia approached the desk, her expression one of mild surprise.
"Back already?"
Marydia placed the claws on the counter, their sharp tips glinting in the lamplight. "The pack is dealt with."
The clerk examined them briefly before nodding. "Impressive. Most teams would've taken days to handle something like this." She slid a pouch of gold across the desk. "Here's your payment. Try not to spend it all in one place."
Marydia accepted the pouch without comment, tucking it into her cloak as she turned to leave. The streets were quiet as she made her way back to the grotto, the weight of the day settling over her like a heavy cloak.
As she stepped into the familiar warmth of her home, she found Eliot seated at the wooden table, his books spread out before him. He looked up, his face lighting up at the sight of her.
"You're back!" he said, his voice filled with relief. "How did it go?"
"Fine," she said, setting her staff against the wall. "The wargs won't be bothering anyone anymore."
Eliot smiled, but his eyes lingered on her, a flicker of worry crossing his face. "You're not hurt, right?"
"No," Marydia said softly, ruffling his hair as she passed. "Just tired. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."
He nodded, satisfied, and returned to his studies as Marydia sank into her chair by the fire. The flames crackled softly, their warmth seeping into her tired limbs.
This was her life now—a delicate balance of preparation, protection, and progress. But as she sat there, watching Eliot pour over his lessons, she knew it was worth every moment.
The days following Marydia's return from the warg hunt slipped into a familiar rhythm once again, but the undercurrent of change was undeniable. Each mission she took, each potion sold in the market, and each quiet night spent refining her spells brought her closer to her goals. Garnett's Reach, for all its bustling noise and shifting faces, had become the forge where her resolve was tempered, her skills sharpened.
But it was Eliot's growth that brought her the most satisfaction.
One evening, after they'd shared a quiet dinner in the grotto, Eliot set aside his plate and pulled out a small journal he'd taken to carrying. The edges were worn from use, and ink stains dotted the corners where his eager hands had flipped through it countless times.
"Look," he said, his voice tinged with excitement as he turned the pages toward her. "Master Olwin said my mana control has gotten strong enough to try shaping water into forms. Today, I made this!"
He pointed to a rough sketch he'd drawn of a sphere, its surface rippling with tiny waves.
"It's not perfect," he admitted, his cheeks reddening slightly. "It kept wobbling, and then it sort of... exploded. But I almost got it!"
Marydia smiled, taking the journal from his hands and studying the sketch. "That's impressive," she said honestly. "It took me years to get my first spell to hold its form for longer than a few seconds. You're learning fast."
Eliot beamed at the praise, his green eyes sparkling in the firelight. "Do you think I could shape something more complicated one day? Like... a shield? Or a sword?"
"Of course," Marydia said, leaning back in her chair. "Magic is like any other skill. The more you practice, the more you'll be able to do. But don't rush. Strong foundations are what matter most."
He nodded eagerly, already flipping to a blank page to jot down notes about what she'd said. Watching him, Marydia felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name. Pride, certainly, but also a deep, aching sense of hope. Eliot was thriving in ways she had only dreamed of in her past life. This time, she was determined to give him every opportunity to grow into his potential.
As he worked, she turned her attention to her own plans. The grotto was safe for now, hidden and fortified by layers of earth and plant magic. The herb garden had begun to produce more than enough for her crafting needs, and her connections in the city provided a steady stream of income. But it wasn't enough.
She needed to expand her reach, to gather the resources and knowledge that would prepare them for the chaos ahead.
The collision of worlds was a certainty. She could feel it in the faint disturbances that rippled through her mana during meditation, like tiny fractures in the fabric of reality. The events that would unfold in five years' time weren't just inevitable—they were already beginning to take shape, their echoes brushing against the present.
The first signs would be subtle: strange phenomena, surges of wild mana, and creatures that defied explanation appearing in remote regions. Marydia had seen it before, lived through it, and she refused to be caught unprepared again.
The next morning, she returned to the guild hall, her hood drawn low as she approached the request board. She scanned the postings with practiced efficiency, seeking out anything that hinted at unusual activity.
One notice caught her eye.
Request: Investigate Mana Surge – Elder Hollow Forest
Description: Reports of unstable mana flows near Elder Hollow. Local wildlife behaving erratically. Cause unknown.
Reward: 200 Gold
It was precisely the kind of mission she'd been looking for. Unstable mana was often a precursor to the changes she knew were coming, and the erratic behavior of the wildlife suggested the beginnings of a disturbance.
She pulled the notice from the board and brought it to the clerk, a grizzled dwarf with a long beard that spilled over the edge of his desk.
"Elder Hollow, huh?" he said, eyeing her skeptically. "Dangerous place, even for experienced mages. You sure you want to take this one alone?"
"I'm sure," Marydia said, her voice steady.
The dwarf grunted, stamping the request with a heavy seal before handing it back to her. "Just don't get yourself killed. Wouldn't want to lose one of our best earners."
Marydia tucked the notice into her cloak and left the hall, her mind already racing with plans. The forest wasn't far—a half-day's journey at most—but she would need to prepare carefully. Unstable mana could be unpredictable, and the creatures affected by it were often dangerous in ways that defied logic.
As she returned to the grotto to gather her supplies, she found Eliot waiting for her at the table, his journal open in front of him.
"Going out again?" he asked, his tone more curious than worried.
"Yes," Marydia said, setting her staff against the wall as she began packing. "There's a disturbance in a nearby forest. I need to investigate."
"Can I come with you?" he asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.
Marydia paused, glancing at him. He had grown in strength and confidence, but the thought of putting him in harm's way made her stomach twist.
"Not this time," she said gently. "This mission could be dangerous. But I'll tell you everything about it when I get back."
Eliot frowned but didn't argue, his fingers tracing the edges of his journal. "Promise you'll be careful?"
"I promise," Marydia said, ruffling his hair before heading to the storage room.
She left before dawn the next day, the first light of morning casting long shadows across the forest as she made her way toward Elder Hollow. The air grew colder as she approached, the familiar hum of mana around her becoming erratic and uneven.
The forest itself felt wrong. The trees were twisted, their branches reaching like skeletal fingers toward the sky. The ground beneath her feet was soft and uneven, and faint whispers seemed to echo through the stillness.
Marydia tightened her grip on her staff, her mana coiling in readiness as she pressed forward. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it head-on. This was just the beginning, and she intended to meet it with strength and purpose.
The world was changing, and so was she.
The further Marydia ventured into Elder Hollow, the more the forest seemed to warp around her. The trees bent unnaturally, their trunks twisted as though shaped by a force that defied logic. The air shimmered faintly, a distortion she recognized as the mark of unstable mana. It tugged at her senses, subtle but insistent, like a faint pulse pressing against the edges of her consciousness.
Her footsteps slowed as she reached the heart of the disturbance. The clearing before her was eerily still, the usual hum of the forest replaced by a heavy silence. The ground was scorched in places, and faint, glowing cracks snaked through the earth, leaking wisps of pale blue light into the air.
Marydia's grip tightened on her staff. This wasn't a natural phenomenon—this was a precursor, a ripple from the coming collision. She stepped closer, carefully channeling her mana into a protective barrier that shimmered faintly around her body. The sensation of the unstable energy intensified, prickling against her skin like a thousand tiny needles.
She crouched by one of the glowing cracks, her fingers hovering over its edge. The light pulsed faintly, rhythmic and alive, and as she extended her mana to probe it, the energy recoiled violently. A sharp surge traveled up her arm, forcing her to pull back with a hiss of pain.
"Definitely not natural," she murmured, rubbing her hand.
The ground beneath her shifted suddenly, a low rumble spreading through the clearing. Marydia sprang to her feet, her staff at the ready, as the cracks widened, spilling more of the eerie light. From the largest fissure, a creature emerged.
It was unlike anything she had seen in this world. Its form was vaguely canine, but its limbs were too long, its joints bent at unnatural angles. Its fur was blackened and patchy, and its eyes glowed with the same pale blue light as the cracks in the earth.
The creature snarled, its voice a guttural mix of growls and distorted echoes. Marydia didn't hesitate. She planted her staff firmly in the ground, summoning a ring of fire that erupted around her, driving the creature back.
The beast lunged, its movements erratic and almost painful to watch. Marydia sidestepped, her staff spinning as she channeled a blast of wind that struck the creature in its side, sending it crashing into the ground. But it recovered too quickly, its limbs snapping back into place with a sickening crack.
"Persistent," she muttered, her mana surging as she summoned another spell.
This time, she combined fire and wind, creating a swirling vortex of flames that engulfed the creature. Its howls filled the clearing as the flames consumed it, the unstable mana that animated its body breaking apart under the concentrated attack.
When the creature finally fell silent, dissolving into a cloud of ash and faint light, Marydia lowered her staff, her chest heaving. The clearing was quiet again, but the energy in the air remained heavy.
She approached the largest crack cautiously, her eyes scanning the ground for any further signs of movement. The fissure pulsed faintly, and as she studied it, she realized it wasn't just leaking mana—it was connected to something deeper, a tear in the very fabric of their world.
Kneeling by the edge, she extended her mana again, this time more carefully. The energy responded sluggishly, resistant but not as aggressive as before. Marydia focused, weaving her mana into a stabilizing spell. The process was slow and meticulous, each thread of magic carefully placed to reinforce the weakened edges of the fissure.
Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she worked, the strain of the spell pushing her to her limits. But finally, the cracks began to fade, their glow dimming until only faint scars remained on the earth.
Marydia sank back on her heels, her body trembling from the effort. Her mana reserves were dangerously low, but the clearing felt calmer now, the unstable energy no longer pulsing wildly.
She stayed there for a moment, catching her breath, before rising to her feet. The forest still felt off, but it was quieter now, as though the worst of the disturbance had been quelled.
As she made her way back toward Garnett's Reach, her thoughts churned. The creature she had faced, the fissure in the earth, the unstable mana—it all pointed to the collision's slow but inevitable approach. This was only the beginning, a faint echo of what was to come.
By the time she reached the city gates, the sun was beginning to set, casting the streets in warm hues of orange and gold. She passed through without a word, her focus entirely on returning to the grotto.
When she arrived, Eliot was waiting for her. He sat at the table, his journal open as usual, but his expression was tense.
"You're late," he said, his voice filled with concern. "I thought something might've happened."
"I'm fine," Marydia said, setting her staff aside and sinking into the chair opposite him. "The mission just took longer than expected."
Eliot studied her for a moment, his green eyes searching her face. "You look tired," he said softly. "Did it... go okay?"
Marydia hesitated, then nodded. "It's handled. But it wasn't easy."
She didn't tell him everything—didn't mention the creature or the fissure or the lingering sense of unease that clung to her like a second skin. He didn't need to carry that burden, not yet.
Instead, she reached across the table and ruffled his hair, offering him a faint smile. "You should get some rest. You've got class tomorrow."
Eliot sighed but nodded, gathering his journal and heading toward his room.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Marydia leaned back in her chair, staring into the fire that crackled softly in the hearth.
The world was shifting beneath their feet, the changes subtle but unmistakable. And yet, as she sat there in the quiet of the grotto, she felt a flicker of hope.
They weren't the same as they had been in her past life. This time, they were stronger.
This time, they were ready to fight.