The wagon creaked like it might fall apart at any moment.
Lux sat on the rear plank with his back against a crate, sword laid across his knees. Every bump in the road sent pain up his thigh and calf. The cut on his shoulder had been wrapped in a strip of cloth the woman tore from her own scarf, but the blood still seeped through, darkening the fabric.
The power inside him was still there, humming faintly, keeping him upright when he should have been shaking on the ground.
But it was fading.
Not the strength itself, Lux realized, but the sharp edge of it. The rush that had carried him through the fight was gone, leaving behind a heavy exhaustion and the slow return of pain.
The travelers did not speak much at first.
The man with the spear sat near the front, reins in hand. He had a narrow face and eyes that never stopped scanning the trees. The shield man sat beside him, still clutching his dented shield even though the road had gone quiet.
The woman, wrapped in a worn cloak, kept looking back at Lux as if she expected him to vanish.
Lux did not blame her. He half expected it too.
He stared down at his hands. They were smeared with dried blood. Some of it was his. Some of it was not.
He scrubbed at his fingers with a bit of damp cloth, but the stains did not fully come off.
A silence settled over them, thick and uneasy.
Finally, the spear man spoke, voice cautious.
"You have a name," he said, not quite a question.
Lux's eyes lifted slowly. "Lux."
The spear man nodded once, as if that single piece of information was an anchor. "I am Kad," he said. "And that one is Kas." He tilted his chin toward the shield man.
Kas grunted, still watching Lux like a man trying to decide whether to thank him or keep a blade ready.
The woman cleared her throat. "I'm Lasa," she said softly. Her voice shook, but there was stubbornness under it. "You really… you really killed that brute."
Lux did not know what to say.
He remembered the tall goblin's blade coming down, remembered the way the world had narrowed into a thin line between life and death. He remembered the sick relief of power flooding into him after the kill.
Lux looked away. "I did what I had to."
Kad's gaze flicked to Lux's sword. "That blade is awful," he said, blunt but not mocking.
Lux almost laughed, but the sound died in his throat. "It was what I had."
Kad nodded again, accepting it. "Still. You used it better than most would."
Kas snorted. "He fought like a madman."
Lux's jaw tightened.
Kas continued, "Not an insult. Just truth. Most men freeze when a goblin charges. You did not."
Lux opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could not explain that he had frozen, that he had been terrified, that the only reason he moved was because he had no other choice. He could not explain the strange surge that made his body answer when his mind was screaming.
So he said nothing.
The wagon rolled on.
The trees began to thin as the road climbed out of the deep forest. Lux saw patches of sky between branches. The light grew brighter. The air changed too, less damp, more open.
Lux shifted carefully, wincing as his calf protested. He glanced down at the bandages. They were crude and already soaked through in places.
He was going to need proper care.
He had never thought about wounds like this before. In his old life, injuries meant paper cuts and headaches. Here, an infection could kill him as surely as a goblin blade.
Kad must have noticed his expression.
"There's a healer in Bracken Vale," he said. "Not a miracle worker, but she'll clean you up."
Bracken Vale.
Lux repeated it silently, filing the name away like a lifeline.
"How far," Lux asked.
Kad's eyes stayed on the road. "An hour. Two, if we're unlucky."
Kas muttered, "If we're lucky, nothing tracks us."
The words made Lux's shoulders tense. He looked back toward the forest behind them.
Nothing moved.
But Lux could not forget the last goblin running into the trees. He could not forget the way the tall goblin had looked at him, like it understood something about him that Lux himself did not.
He swallowed.
"What were you doing out there," Lux asked, keeping his tone careful. "On that road."
Lasa answered. "Trade run. We bring salt and dried herbs from the north. We were supposed to reach the village before midday."
Kas spat to the side. "Goblins have been bolder lately. Used to be they'd hit lone travelers, run off with food. Now they set traps. Plan."
Lux's mind caught on the word.
Plan.
Goblins in stories were stupid. Animals with knives.
The ones he had fought did not feel stupid.
Kad's voice lowered. "Something is stirring in the woods. People say it's just hunger. Winter coming. But…" He hesitated.
"But what," Lux asked.
Kad did not answer immediately. His gaze flicked to Lasa, then back ahead.
"But it feels organized," Kad finally said. "Like someone is pushing them."
Lux felt a cold line run down his spine.
He thought of the wagon in the clearing. The broken wheel. The blood. The way those goblins had circled him, patient and cruel.
He thought of the strange symbol he had seen carved into wood earlier, though he had not shown it to anyone. It remained hidden in his pouch, a sharp secret pressing against his skin.
Lux looked down at the road again.
If goblins were becoming organized, that meant the world was more dangerous than he had assumed.
And he had assumed it was already deadly.
The wagon rounded a bend, and the trees opened into a valley.
Lux's breath caught.
Ahead, nestled between gentle hills, sat a small village surrounded by a wooden palisade. Smoke rose from chimneys. Fields spread out in neat rows, brown and waiting. A river cut through the valley like a silver line.
The sight of it hit Lux harder than he expected.
Not because it was beautiful.
Because it was proof.
Proof that people lived here. That life continued. That this world had rules and routines, just like his old one.
But here, those routines sat on top of violence and teeth.
Kad guided the wagon toward the gate. Two guards stood on the platform above, spears in hand. They leaned forward when they saw the wagon, then stiffened when they noticed the blood and the bodies sprawled in the back.
One of them shouted. "Kad? What happened?"
Kad raised a hand. "Ambush. Goblins. We survived."
The gate opened slowly with a deep wooden groan.
As the wagon rolled inside, Lux felt eyes turn toward him.
Villagers paused in the street. A child stopped running and stared. An old man narrowed his eyes. A woman carrying a basket clutched it tighter.
Lux kept his posture steady, but inside, his nerves tightened.
He was a stranger. Armed. Bloody. Arriving on a wagon full of shaken locals.
Kad drove toward the center of the village, where a wide building stood with a faded sign showing a crossed spear and sword. A few men stepped out of it, and their gazes sharpened the moment they saw Lux.
Kas jumped down from the wagon first, then turned and offered Lux a hand.
Lux hesitated.
Kas's expression was rough but not hostile. "You saved us," he said quietly. "Do not fall off the wagon now."
Lux took his hand and climbed down, legs trembling. The ground felt solid, but his body swayed slightly, exhaustion catching up to him.
Lasa climbed down next. She hurried to a nearby well, splashing water onto her face, breathing as if she had been holding it all in until now.
Kad pointed toward a smaller building near the edge of the square. "Healer's house," he said. "Come. Before you pass out."
Lux started forward, then paused when a large man stepped into his path.
The man wore leather armor reinforced with metal plates. A sword hung at his side, clean and well maintained. His hair was tied back, and his eyes were sharp, the eyes of someone who had seen blood before and did not flinch.
He looked Lux up and down.
"A stranger," the man said, voice flat. "With a rusty blade and fresh kills."
Lux did not speak.
The man's gaze fixed on Lux's sword, then on Lux's blood soaked bandages.
Kad stepped forward. "He helped us," Kad said. "We'd be dead without him."
Kas nodded. "Two goblins and a brute. He took them."
A ripple moved through the small group of villagers gathering near the square. Whispers rose, quick and uneasy.
The armored man did not look impressed. He looked suspicious.
"Name," he demanded.
Lux swallowed. "Lux."
The man held Lux's gaze for a long moment.
Then he said, "You will speak with the village head after you are treated. And you will not wander around armed until we know what you are."
Lux's grip tightened on the sword's hilt, but Kad touched Lux's arm lightly, a warning.
Lux forced himself to nod. "Fine."
The armored man stepped aside.
Kad guided Lux toward the healer's house.
As Lux limped forward, the village sounds surrounded him. People talking. A hammer striking wood. A dog barking. Life.
Yet Lux could not relax.
Because behind every sound, he felt it.
The rule.
The truth that killing had made him stronger, and that strength had kept him alive.
Lux stepped into the healer's doorway, and for a moment he wondered which part of him the village would fear more.
The stranger with a sword.
Or the man who grew from blood.