Lyra tugged me through the crowd, the villagers giving way with a mixture of shock and awe on their faces. This armored brute, this Korvak, had swaggered into their village, making threats and demands, and fear had gripped my heart. But to see them – simple farmers, weavers, Lyra with her bright spirit – facing him so defenselessly ignited a fury within me.
Then he'd looked at Lyra, and the sight of his smirk, his predatory gaze, sent a jolt of something primal through me. Training or not, I moved before my brain could process it. I was standing between her and that monster, and the only words in my head were, 'Not here. Not them.'
"And what have we here?" Korvak's voice boomed. I registered his massive size, the sneer, and then I was flying through the air, gripped by a hand like an iron clamp. The world tilted crazily.
"I'll crush you like an insect if you interfere!" he yelled. In his eyes, there was no threat, only a smirk of amusement as if I were a bug he could squash.
Lyra's panicked gasp reached my ears, and a surge of power I didn't recognize coursed through me. It was like all the control, all the precision honed over years of training, had been distilled into a single, explosive force.
I broke his grip, landing in a crouch. Before he could recover, I was on him. My fist cracked against his helmet, a sickening thud that surprised even me. The startled roar in his throat only fueled me. My body moved as if on its own, years of forms and sparring becoming a whirlwind of blows against his clumsy swings.
The villagers gasped, then cheered, and their energy fed my own. A punch doubled him over, then I was on his back, my legs tightening. I ignored his flailing axe, his roars of fury, squeezing with all my might. "Yield!" I shouted, my voice ragged.
Then came silence, broken only by his ragged breaths. He went slack, and I collapsed beside him, my whole body trembling with the aftermath of that strange adrenaline.
The villagers surged around me, their faces a mix of wonder and relief. Elder Torin appeared at my side, his eyes wide. "Unbelievable," he murmured. "I've never seen anything like it."
Lyra was there too, her emerald eyes shining. "You saved us, Ravi," she said, breathless. "You were amazing!" Her words, the way she looked at me, set something unfamiliar alight in my chest.
Korvak and his thugs fled, scrambling onto their horses with what was left of their dignity. The victory was sweet, the villagers' elation infectious. Yet, as the celebration commenced, a different sensation settled upon me.
I'd tasted a power within myself that both thrilled and unsettled me. Was this the magic of Elyria? It wasn't the same feeling I got from focused training, not the earned reward of discipline. I touched the smooth stone in my pocket – the one constant between my old life and this bewildering new one.
Torin approached me, the awe fading from his eyes, replaced by something calculating. "Ravi, we must talk. Come."
I followed him back to the hut. My body throbbed in places I didn't know I had. I wasn't just tired; the fight had taken something out of me. Or perhaps, it had awakened something within me.
"This... energy," I said, struggling to express the sensation, "during the fight… do you know..."
He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Magic," he finished. "Or close enough. We shall see. For now, rest. You have earned it, young warrior."
The words settled around me. I wasn't just a lost wanderer, a misplaced fighter anymore. In Elyria, I could be something more. The possibilities swirled, both dazzling and dizzying. That night, sleep evaded me. I had defeated a tyrant, protected the village. But in my mind's eye, it wasn't my fists I saw, it was the gleam of magic in the warrior's eyes, the unknown power that had surged through me. That, it seemed, was my true trial to come.