The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh hay. I sat on a low wooden bench outside the barn, my arms resting on my knees. The marks on my arms—red spirals on the right, blue on the left—seemed to hum faintly, as if alive. Every time I looked at them, a strange mixture of pride and unease filled my chest.
Rorik stepped out of the barn, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel. He carried two steaming mugs, handing one to me before settling down beside me. His usual stern demeanor was softened, but there was a weight in his expression that immediately put me on edge.
"You've got questions," he said, breaking the silence.
I nodded, staring down at the tea in my hands. "Plenty. But I don't even know where to start."
Rorik took a sip of his tea, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Let's start with this: you're not like anyone I've ever seen."
---
His words hit me harder than I expected. "Not like anyone?"
He nodded, setting his mug down. "The marks on your arms—both arms—they're not normal. Most people, if they're lucky enough to go through the changing, get one mark. And even then, it's small—simple. Yours are..." He gestured to my arms, searching for the right word. "Excessive. Intricate. Powerful."
I flexed my fingers, watching the patterns shift subtly in the morning light. "So what does it mean?"
Rorik exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand across his beard. "It means you've got potential. More potential than anyone I've ever met. But potential doesn't mean much on its own. It's a double-edged sword, boy."
He turned to me, his eyes hard. "With this kind of power, you'll draw attention. And not the good kind. People will envy you, fear you. Some will want to use you; others will want to destroy you."
---
The weight of his words settled in my chest. "So what am I supposed to do?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
"You get stronger," Rorik said bluntly. "Stronger than anyone who might come after you. You make yourself a force to be reckoned with. Not just for your sake, but for Emery's too. The stronger you are, the safer she is."
The mention of Emery sent a jolt through me. I clenched my fists, the rough texture of my palms grounding me. "I'll do whatever it takes," I said, the conviction in my voice surprising even myself.
Rorik studied me for a moment, his gaze sharp. "Good. Because you don't have a choice."
---
He leaned back, crossing his arms. "We're not rushing into anything. First, I'm contacting someone I trust—my old team leader. He's one of the strongest warriors I've ever known, and if anyone can help make sense of this, it's him."
"What's he like?" I asked, curious.
"Stubborn. Brutal. But he knows his stuff," Rorik said with a faint smirk. "Getting him here won't be easy, but it's necessary. We can't afford to guess at what those marks mean or what you're capable of."
---
I glanced down at my arms again, the vivid spirals catching the light. "You think I can use both Qi and Mana?"
Rorik nodded. "That's what the marks suggest. Qi is internal energy—what makes warriors fast, strong, durable. Mana is external energy—what Magi like Ingrid use to manipulate the world around them. Most people can only cultivate one or the other. But you... you might be able to do both."
The enormity of his statement made my head spin. "So... what am I? Not a warrior, not a Magi—something else?"
"Something new," Rorik said. "A combination of both, maybe. But don't let it go to your head. Potential's dangerous. It'll make you a target, and if you're not careful, it'll get you killed."
---
His words were a sobering reminder of the road ahead. I looked out at the fields, the morning light casting long shadows across the farm. "I'll get stronger," I said, more to myself than to Rorik.
"You'll need to," he said, his tone firm. "This world isn't kind to people with power. It chews them up and spits them out if they're not ready. And right now, you're not ready."
I nodded, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy cloak.
"You've got a lot to learn," Rorik continued. "About yourself, about this world, and about the people in it. But you've got one thing going for you—you're stubborn as hell. Use that."
---
The marks on my arms seemed to hum in agreement, a faint reminder of the path ahead. For better or worse, I was no longer just Logan Grant, the college kid from Earth. I was something else entirely, and it was time to figure out what that meant.