Reyn's eyelids fluttered open, his vision blurred as he struggled to make sense of the dimly lit room. The scent of herbs filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of burning wood from the small hearth in the corner.
Reyn's head throbbed with a dull ache, and as he shifted, he felt the rough texture of bandages wrapped around his skull. He blinked a few times, and the room slowly came into focus. It was familiar—the wooden walls, the creaky old bed, the small table cluttered with various trinkets. This was his room back in the village.
"He's waking up," came a voice from his left, soft and filled with relief. Reyn turned his head and saw Irvin and his wife, Adelia, sitting beside his bed.
The couple, who served as the village's makeshift leaders, watched him with a mixture of concern and weariness etched across their faces.
Reyn groaned as he struggled to sit up, his muscles stiff and sore. "What… happened?" he mumbled, his voice barely more than a croak.
Irvin reached out to steady him, his hand gentle on Reyn's shoulder. "Easy, lad. You've been through quite a bit," he said, his tone firm yet comforting. "We found you in the forest, a few miles from the village. You were in bad shape—half-dead, truth be told."
Reyn frowned, his thoughts sluggish as he tried to piece together how he'd ended up back here. The last thing he remembered was the forest, the bandits, and that strange surge of power… His hand unconsciously drifted to his bandaged head, his fingertips grazing the rough cloth.
"How did you find me?" he asked, his voice rough. "I was… pretty far out."
"A child saw you leaving the village," Adelia explained, her eyes filled with worry. "She told us as soon as she saw you head into the forest. We organized a search right away, but it took us hours to find you. You were already unconscious when we found you."
Reyn's brow furrowed. The memories of his flight from the bandits were scattered, broken fragments of pain and adrenaline that refused to come together. He vaguely recalled the feeling of his strength fading after that strange burst of energy, but the details were like sand slipping through his fingers.
Adelia continued, her voice gentle. "You've been unconscious for three days, Reyn. I've been casting a little healing spell on you regularly, just enough to help mend your wounds. It took time, but you're finally awake."
"Three days?" Reyn repeated, disbelief evident in his tone. He tried to recall what had happened during those missing days, but his memory remained stubbornly blank.
"I… don't remember much. I know there were bandits, and then… everything else is just… gone."
Irvin and Adelia exchanged a concerned glance. "Bandits?" Irvin echoed, his expression darkening. "Did they attack you? Why would they be out there, near the village?"
Reyn shook his head slowly, wincing at the dull throb that flared up behind his eyes. "I'm… not sure. I just remember… running," he said, struggling to articulate the half-formed memories in his mind. "There was a woman… she…"
He trailed off, the image of the bleeding woman rushing toward him flashing vividly in his mind. He could still feel the lingering sensation of her lips against his, the strange mark that had burned into his tongue.
Beyond that, the memories were hazy, and no matter how hard he tried to grasp them, they slipped away.
Adelia placed a hand on his, her touch warm and reassuring. "It's all right, Reyn," she said softly. "You've been through a lot. Rest for now, and when you're ready, we can try to figure out what happened."
He nodded numbly, leaning back against the headboard, his gaze drifting to the small window across the room. The sunlight streaming through it was bright, almost too bright. His thoughts remained muddled, as though the events of the past few days were just a bad dream he was struggling to wake from.
After a few minutes of silence, Adelia and Irvin helped him to his feet and guided him toward the door. "Come on," Irvin said, his voice gentle. "The fresh air will do you good."
As they stepped outside, Reyn squinted against the light, his senses assaulted by the familiar sounds of the village. The chatter of people, the clatter of tools, and the distant laughter of children playing—all seemed so normal, so unchanged, even though everything inside him felt different.
Just as he was beginning to adjust to being back home, a disturbance broke the peaceful rhythm of the village.
At the far end of the square, a crowd had started to gather, murmurs of curiosity and caution rippling through the air. In the center of the commotion was a figure clad in dark leather armor, a sword strapped across her back.
Her presence seemed to draw the attention of everyone around her, as though they instinctively recognized the danger she embodied.
"Who's that?" Reyn asked, his curiosity piqued. He moved a little closer, trying to get a better look at the stranger.
"That," Adelia replied, her voice hushed, "is Lirael. They call her the Blade Witch."
The name sent a jolt through Reyn's memory, and for a moment, a faint sense of familiarity stirred within him. He watched as Lirael calmly scanned the crowd, her gaze sharp and unyielding.
She carried herself with the poise of a seasoned warrior, and even from this distance, there was an unmistakable aura of strength about her—like a coiled serpent waiting to strike.
Reyn took a hesitant step forward, feeling something inside him shift, a sensation he couldn't quite place. There was something about her presence that stirred the fog in his mind, like a distant echo calling out to him.
As Lirael's gaze swept across the gathered villagers, her eyes briefly met his, and Reyn felt a sudden tightening in his chest.
Her stare was intense, calculating, as though she were sizing him up, trying to determine if he was worth her attention. The moment passed quickly, but it left a strange jumble of emotions in its wake—confusion, curiosity, and something else he couldn't quite name.
"Why is she here?" Reyn asked, his voice barely audible.
"She's hunting down a group of bandits in the area," Irvin said, his tone wary. "But whatever her reasons, it's best not to get involved. A warrior like her… she's not someone to trifle with."
Reyn nodded slowly, but his gaze remained fixed on Lirael. The sight of her had disrupted something within him, jumbled his memories even more. The mark on his tongue seemed to pulse faintly as if reacting to her presence.
He wasn't sure why, but Reyn couldn't shake the feeling that this swordswoman would somehow be important to him, that her arrival was more than mere coincidence. As the villagers continued to murmur and gossip, he found himself taking another step closer, drawn toward the Blade Witch by an unseen force.
And somewhere deep inside, he knew that whatever answers he sought, they would not be found here in the quiet safety of the village. His path was about to change, whether he was ready for it or not.