The world came back in a rush. The weight of the sword in my grip, the scent of blood thick in the air, the distant echo of a voice—then nothing. I stood in the clearing, the bear's lifeless form before me, its armored hide split open where my blade had finally found purchase. My breaths came heavy, my pulse steadying as the memory faded, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Calder's voice cut through the silence. "What the hell was that?"
I turned. He stood a few paces away, staring at me with something between shock and wariness. His hand hovered near his belt, where a knife rested, but he didn't reach for it. Not yet.
I wiped my blade clean before sliding it back into its sheath. "A bear."
His eyes flicked to the corpse. "That wasn't just a bear. And you—" he exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "You're a damn sight more skilled than you let on."
I didn't answer. I wasn't sure how to.
A gust of wind rattled the trees. The scent of iron lingered, but the night was creeping in fast, and I could already hear the distant howl of other predators drawn by the scent of fresh blood. Calder must have had the same thought, because he gestured toward the town. "Come on. Let's get back before something else decides to try its luck."
I followed him back through the trees, past the towering wooden gates that groaned as they shut behind us. The guards didn't stop us, but I could feel their eyes lingering, their gazes flicking between Calder and the bloodstains on my clothes.
Word traveled fast.
By the time we reached the town square, a small crowd had formed. Whispers filled the air, merchants and workers pausing their tasks to glance my way. I caught snippets of their murmurs—"…killed it alone…" "…not normal…" "…should we be worried?"
I ignored them. Calder didn't. He shot a glare at a few onlookers, silencing most of the chatter before leading me toward the inn.
Inside, the warmth of the hearth did little to chase away the weight of the day. Calder dropped into a chair at one of the tables, motioning for me to do the same. I sat, rolling my shoulders as the ache from the fight settled in.
The innkeeper eyed me from behind the counter before setting down a tankard of water and a half-loaf of bread. "On the house," he muttered before stepping away.
I took a sip, letting the silence stretch until Calder finally spoke. "You gonna tell me where you learned to fight like that?"
I met his gaze. "A battlefield."
He studied me for a long moment, then grunted. "Figured as much. But that thing you did—the way you moved, like you knew what it was gonna do before it did it. That ain't something you just pick up swinging a sword around."
I said nothing. My mind was still reeling from the glimpse of memory, the way my body had moved on instinct, how I had sensed the flow of the fight without thinking. And then there was the magic.
I had used it before. I knew it. But the knowledge of how was just beyond my reach, like a word on the tip of my tongue that refused to form.
Calder sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Well, whatever your deal is, I ain't gonna press. You kept the town safe tonight. I'll make sure the right people hear about it."
I nodded in thanks, finishing the bread in a few bites.
As I stood to leave, he spoke again. "You're looking for work, right?"
I paused. "Yes."
He scratched at his chin, considering something. "There's more to do out there than just logging. If you're willing to put those skills to use, I might have something better for you."
I raised a brow. "Like what?"
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Meet me at the gates tomorrow morning. I'll show you."
I studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."
As I made my way to my room, exhaustion tugged at my limbs, but my mind remained restless. The fight had unlocked something buried deep within me—a piece of the puzzle I didn't even know I was missing.
I had wielded magic before.
And I would find a way to wield it again.