The wind blew gently through the trees as the group emerged from the forest, and the last light of the evening had cast golden rays across the dirt path. Dunn Caster came back into view, the simple homes with lanterns now lit, and villagers were gathered near the outskirts with anxious and surprised faces.

  Then, relief.

  “They’re back!” someone called.

  The villagers stepped forward, and murmurs of awe and gratitude could be heard rising among them as the adventurers approached. A young elven man gave a grateful nod, while an older woman placed her hand over her heart.

  One child waved enthusiastically as she jumped up, which earned a small, tired smile from Jorge.

  “Thank the stars,” another muttered. “They did it.”

  The group made their way through the crowd and towards the elders’ hall. Inside, the air felt warmer than earlier, and the elder council waited with hope and nervousness in their eyes.

  Jorge stepped forward, his posture straight despite the limp in his step. “The source of the forest’s disturbance has been eliminated, Elders. The forest will no longer whisper to you, or any of your people.”

  There was a brief moment of silence that followed, and then the head elder, the man with a long gray beard and a heavily wrinkled face, bowed his head deeply in thanks.

  “We are in your debt, adventurers. You’ve done more here than complete a contract… you’ve given peace back to our dead… and to the living.”

  Another elder, the woman from earlier, nodded in agreement. “Some of us… heard voices we never thought we’d hear again. It was… not easy. But your actions were necessary, and we are eternally grateful to you.”

  She then looked directly at Soren. “And for your first mission with your companions, young man, you should be proud.”

  Soren’s breath caught, taken aback by her personal thanks. Then, he felt a sense of pride spread in his chest, and he gave a small nod. “Thank you, Elder. Really though, it was my pleasure to be able to aid the village.”

  She gave him a small smile, and nodded back, acknowledging his modesty.

  The elders offered payment in the form of coins, resources, and gifts, but Jorge lifted a hand. “Send it to the Hollow Stag Tavern, we’ll square it there. We’re just glad your people are safe.”

  The villagers had lined up at the entrance one by one, offering individual thanks. Some extended hands, while others gave thankful words. An elderly woman clasped Soren’s hand in both of hers, while smiling up at him with teary eyes.

  “You have a brave heart. Don’t ever forget that.”

  He gave a small smile in return, and continued on. As night began to settle in fully, the group walked to the village outskirts and made their way toward the waiting carriage.

  Soren glanced back at Dunn Caster once as they boarded. For the first time in a long while, even in Eirland, he felt as if his actions had truly made a difference in the world.

  The carriage began to move, wheels rolling down the road and towards the horizon.

  Inside, conversation had picked up. Consisting of recaps of what had occurred and tired, half-joking banter. Elise commented on how the creature's tail nearly impaled her.

  Faris praised Remi’s use of magic during the conflict, and Jorge murmured something about how he hated forests now more than ever. Soren sat in thought though, staring out the window and at the passing land. The battle replayed again and again in his mind. The voices he had heard. That moment where he froze.

  He almost failed again… but he didn’t. He moved when he had to, and he fought. His actions saved someone.

  “Hey,” Jorge’s voice rumbled, breaking his train of thought. “You good?”

  Soren turned his head, and gave a tired nod. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

  A moment passed, then Remi leaned across, ruffling his hair softly with a small smile. “Good job, really. I’ve never seen someone your age fight like that in… well, in my life.”

  Soren looked out the window again, trying to play it off smoothly, but he couldn’t stop his mouth from turning into a smile. “It was nothing.”

  The carriage rolled on, until eventually its wooden wheels came to a slow stop outside the tavern. Soren stepped down behind the others, his boots landing softly on the dirt path. The tavern was quiet now, light from the windows flickering like it was welcoming him back.

  Jorge stretched, letting out a grunt. “Still got all my limbs. I’ll call that a win.”

  Remi chuckled to herself, and grinned. “Speak for yourself, I think I pulled something dodging that thing’s legs.”

  Elise slipped inside the barracks without a word, her shadow seeming to trail behind her a moment slower than it should. Faris paused, glancing at the stars before following her inside.

  Soren stood alone outside a bit longer, looking up at the sky. These were the same stars that hung over Eirland...but they felt farther somehow. But he was making progress. One mission down, only two remaining, and he would be back home… and he would kill Hestus, and save his mother.

  An uninvited thought crossed his mind. “What if she’s dead?”

  He shook it off in anger, not wanting to entertain his own fears. He exhaled slowly, and walked to the tavern, warmth surrounding him like a blanket the second he stepped inside. The tavern was mostly empty, except for the bartender who gave them a nod while raising his mug.

  Jorge nodded back and disappeared toward the training room. Faris walked toward the back of the barracks, likely to tend to his plants. Elise disappeared up the stairs without a word.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Remi was already seated at the lounge table, and motioned for Soren to join her. “Hey, you. You gonna sit, or do I have to force you?”

  Soren smirked and joined her, sitting on the bench across from her. His muscles ached slightly, and his mind was tired, but despite that, he felt steady.

  “You did good in the forest,” she said, leaning forward, resting her cheek on her hand. "For your first real fight, you didn’t die. Big win in my books.”

  He smirked faintly. “Thanks… I guess.”

  There was a pause that followed, not awkward, but quiet. Remi studied him for a moment, yet he didn’t flinch under her gaze.

  “What’s going on in that head?” she finally asked, pink hair shining from candlelight and blue eyes focused on him.

  Soren looked at the table. “I couldn’t move. In the middle of the fight, I heard her voice… my mom. It felt so real. I almost let Faris…” He trailed off.

  “But you didn’t,” she said. “You ran in. You saved him.”

  “I almost didn’t.”

  Remi’s voice was calm and sincere. “And I’ve seen seasoned fighters who didn’t. ‘Almost’ means you still made the right call when it mattered. You think any of us haven’t hesitated? You think Jorge, in all his might or whatever, started off fearless?”

  She laughed softly. “He cried the first time he killed a goblin. Wouldn’t shut up about it for a week.”

  Soren gave a genuine laugh. “Really?”

  “Swear on this tavern,” she grinned, then her expression changed to something more thoughtful.

  “We all started somewhere, Soren. You’re not alone in that, no one is.”

  He nodded, the guilt behind his eyes lifting a little. “Thanks, Remi.”

  She shrugged, and gave a playful grin. “Don’t get used to me being nice.”

  Then she leaned over and ruffled his hair playfully. “Go get cleaned up. You’re covered in blood and dirt, you look like a corpse walking.”

  —

  Later, Jorge was in the training room, swinging a wooden axe at a dummy with brutal precision. The sound echoed through the corridors, while Soren watched from the doorway.

  “You coming in, or just stalking me?” Jorge asked without turning.

  Soren chuckled and stepped in. Jorge turned around and tossed him a wooden training sword. “You handled yourself scarily well out there.”

  Soren caught the praise, surprised. “Didn’t think you noticed.”

  “I notice everything, just don’t say much about it.” Jorge paused, then added. “You’ll be good, kid. You just gotta keep swinging, learn from the hits.”

  They sparred for a few rounds. Jorge was rough but careful, opting to teach Soren instead of testing. Afterward, Soren's hands ached, though he felt he had learned a bit more on how to handle an opponent like Jorge. Quick attacks with a strong defense, never overcommitting to any move.

  Later, the group sat scattered around the main lounge. Elise sat in a darkened corner with a cup of tea, while Faris was nearby trimming a small plant he’d salvaged from Dunn Caster, the leaves slightly purple.

  Jorge and Remi played a card game, half-arguing over the rules. Soren sat on one of the couches, as he watched them all.

  As much as he wanted to, he couldn't get too comfortable in this place.

  He had his own priorities.

  Remi looked over, catching his thoughtful expression. She mouthed to him: “You good?”

  He nodded, before standing up and entering his room, which was still mostly empty. His sword leaned against the wall, and he pulled a small item from his pocket. A copper coin one of the villagers had pressed into his hand as a thank you.

  He placed it on his shelf. Alone, but hopefully there would be additions despite his limited stay in Lavon. The coin was a symbol of the first time he had gone out into this new land and made a difference.

  He sat on the bed, letting his body rest, though his mind still wandered, briefly, before he blew out the candle.

  —

  Days later, the tavern buzzed with conversation, clinking mugs, and the crackle of the fireplace. Soren sat beside Remi, who lazily stirred her drink, her staff leaning against the table.

  “So… your magic, from a few days ago,” Soren said, voice soft and filled with curiosity.

  “Can you… explain it to me, in the way you understand it? My father tried teaching me how to use mana a few times growing up, but I could never get the hang of it.”

  Remi blinked, stunned by his unexpected interest, then smirked.

  “A bit of a broad question, but alright. Mana… well, it’s everywhere. We’re surrounded by it everyday, and everyone’s got a little in them, though most just never learn how to harness it properly. Not because they can’t, it’s because either they’ve just never taken the time to, their body is a bit more resistant to absorbing mana, or they lacked proper guidance.”

  She adjusted herself slightly, loosening her pink hair, then going on.

  “You said your father was a mage, and that he tried teaching you, so I’d rule out the first and third option. It’s probably the second in your case, though not everyone that doesn’t practice magic necessarily has something holding them back. Some people say they prefer weapons, or hand to hand combat, but in my opinion… they’re thinking too narrow.”

  Soren frowned a bit, tilting his head. “What do you mean by narrow?”

  Remi took a moment to think, then turned and looked through the tavern’s window.

  “Most people try to downplay the use of mana to combat only, when that’s not the case at all. You saw how I used my mana to give us light in the forest, right? I’m sure you’ve encountered healing magic too at one point, or heard of protective runes, or even enhancing a spell using incantations.”

  She raised a hand slightly, and green particles appeared slowly, drawn to her palm and forming an ethereal looking green sphere.

  Soren took note of how easily she had gathered it together, while his thoughts tried to make sense of it.

  “This… must be healing magic. It’s colour, and the warmth I’m feeling from it... I remember this. Father practiced it on me a few times when I was younger, whenever I had a cut or a bruise.”

  His eyes glanced back to Remi, who continued speaking.

  “All of these overlooked aspects make up what mana really is. It’s not a weapon that should only be used to kill and plunder. It’s so much more, but… so many people can’t see that.”

  Soren nodded, taking the information in, before looking up and leaning towards her, a curious expression in his face. “So if I want to use mana, I’d have to first get through my body resisting it, if that’s the case, and then I’d have to train it?”

  “Constantly,” she nodded. “It’s like a muscle. If you push too hard, it breaks, and you make no progress. But if you don’t push at all, it stays dormant, never growing at all. You need to learn to channel your mana, and shape it through your mind and focus. Many mages even use a conduit to help them, like my staff.”

  She tapped the table with a finger. “Though staff, wand, hand, doesn’t matter. The mana is in you.”

  Soren looked down at his hands thoughtfully. “Could I… learn it?”

  Remi smiled gently. “Maybe. If you’re patient. It’s not easy.”

  Before he could answer, the tavern door burst open with a loud bang. Cold wind rushed in, and with it, a woman. She stumbled through and fell to her knees, cloak torn, skin scratched, and eyes glassy with pain.

  “Help…” she rasped.

  Remi’s eyes widened in shock and fear.

  “...Asta?”