By the time they returned to the village, Victor's legs ached and his head spun with questions he couldn't put into words. The memory of the camouflaged predators still clung to him—their eyes, the silence of the forest, the way his body had surged with something wild and unfamiliar.
Mira walked ahead, her pace steady, not once glancing back to see if he could keep up. Thorian trailed a step behind Victor, his silence heavier than the pack Victor carried on his shoulders. No one spoke until they reached the courtyard.
"You lasted," Mira said at last, turning to face him. "Not cleanly, not without fear, but you lasted. That is what matters."
Victor bristled at the cold assessment, though he saw the faintest flicker of approval in her eyes. "I didn't even know what I did," he muttered. "I could've died out there."
"Yet you didn't," she replied simply. "Learn from that."
Thorian's gaze lingered longer. "Instinct is dangerous if you don't understand it. Tonight, rest. Tomorrow, we'll begin shaping it before it shapes you."
Victor nodded, though unease gnawed at him. What had happened by the stream hadn't felt like training. It had felt like something alive had moved through him. Something that wasn't entirely his.
That evening, after a meager supper, Victor found himself unable to sleep. The village hummed softly in the dark—dogs barking faintly, a blacksmith hammering the last sparks from his forge, laughter drifting from a tavern down the lane. Yet even among the sounds of life, he felt adrift.
He wandered past the last row of cottages, where the trees leaned close to the village edge. Lanterns glowed here and there, but most homes had gone quiet. He sat on a fallen log, staring at the line of forest beyond.
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
Victor turned. A girl stood a few paces away, holding a basket of herbs against her hip. Her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her eyes—bright, steady—studied him with a mix of curiosity and concern. She looked close to his age, maybe younger.
"I, uh…" Victor rubbed the back of his neck. "Not a ghost. Just… too much in my head."
She smiled faintly, stepping closer. "That sounds familiar. I'm Liora. My mother's the village healer. I help gather what she needs."
Victor glanced at the basket—bundles of leaves, flowers, and roots he didn't recognize. "I'm Victor. I guess I'm… training."
Her brow lifted slightly. "With Mira and Thorian? People talk, you know. They say you're not from here."
Victor's chest tightened. "And what do you think?"
Liora tilted her head, considering him. "I think you look like someone who doesn't know whether to run or stay. But you stayed. That tells me enough."
Something in her words settled the knot inside him, if only for a moment. They talked quietly as the night deepened—about the forest's dangers, about her work as a healer, about how life in the village was simpler than the stories of war that traveled down from the mountains.
Then, as the moon climbed higher, the air shifted. The night sounds dimmed, like a breath held too long. A pale shimmer drifted through the trees, faint as mist but glowing with its own light.
Victor stood, tense. "Do you see that?"
Liora's eyes widened. "Yes… but I've never—"
The shimmer swirled between the trunks, like threads of silver weaving in the air. A faint sound carried on the breeze—not words, but something close, like whispers in a language just beyond hearing.
Victor's chest tightened. The same pulse from the forest stirred inside him, answering the glow. His skin prickled, his breath quickened.
Liora touched his arm. "Victor, don't… it's not natural."
But he couldn't look away. The light bent, almost like it noticed him. For a moment, the world narrowed to the glow, the whispering, the pull in his chest.
Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the shimmer dissolved into the night. The sounds of crickets and owls rushed back, leaving only darkness and silence.
Victor exhaled, shaking. "What was that?"
Liora shook her head slowly. "I've lived here my whole life. I've never seen the forest… answer someone." Her grip tightened on her basket. "You should be careful, Victor. Aeloria doesn't give without cost."
He looked back toward the darkened trees, unease and wonder twisting together in his chest. For the second time that day, he felt the world itself had turned to look at him.
And he wasn't sure if that was a blessing… or a curse.