Lux slept in short pieces.
He would drift for a minute, then jerk awake as if something had touched his ribs from the inside. Each time his eyes opened, he expected to see office walls, a gray ceiling, the glow of a phone screen. Instead he saw rough wooden beams above him and a thin line of moonlight slipping through cracks in the boards.
The storehouse loft smelled like straw, grain, and old dust.
His body hurt in layers. The cut on his shoulder pulled whenever he shifted. The wounds on his leg and calf throbbed in slow, steady pulses. The healer's bitter drink had made his mind heavy, but it had not erased the images. The goblins. The brute. The moment the world narrowed into a blade coming down.
Lux sat up slowly and let his eyes adjust.
The loft was small. A few bundled sacks lined one wall. A ladder led down to the storehouse below. Through the floorboards he could hear faint movement, someone walking, maybe a guard making rounds. Outside, the village quiet was broken only by an occasional bark from a dog and the soft creak of wood in the wind.
Lux pressed a hand to his chest.
No pull. No sideways gravity. No crack in the world.
Just the painful reality that he was here.
He lifted his pouch and untied it, careful not to jostle his injuries too much. His fingers found the coin, the dried meat, the canteen. And then the small piece of carved wood, the symbol he had taken from the first nest.
Lux held it up to the moonlight.
The marking was simple, but deliberate. Lines intersecting in a pattern that felt too sharp to be decoration. It did not look like goblin work. It looked like something made by someone who could write and plan.
Lux closed his fist around it.
If this symbol meant anything, it was a threat.
He tucked it back into his pouch and tied it again. Then he looked at his sword, resting against a sack near his bed of straw. Even in the dim light, the rust caught the eye like a wound.
Lux stared at the weapon for a long time, and a strange thought settled into him.
In the office, he had always believed he was harmless.
Here, harmless meant dead.
Lux lay back down, trying to force sleep. He closed his eyes and listened to his own breathing. He tried to count the breaths the way people counted sheep.
He made it to thirty eight before the memory returned again.
The moment he killed the goblin by smashing its head into the road.
Lux's stomach twisted. He rolled onto his side and pressed his forehead into the straw, as if he could push the image out through sheer pressure.
"I had to," he whispered.
The words did not comfort him. They only reminded him that he had done it with his bare hands.
He eventually drifted into a shallow sleep.
When morning arrived, it did not do so gently.
The ladder creaked, and heavy steps climbed into the loft. Lux's eyes snapped open. He reached for his sword out of instinct, then stopped when he saw the shape at the top of the ladder.
Trial.
The guard captain's armor looked less like polished plates and more like worn practicality in the morning light. His expression was the same as always, controlled and hard.
"You are awake," Trial said.
Lux's throat was dry. "Yes."
Trial's gaze flicked to Lux's hand near the sword. "Do not reach for that in my village."
Lux moved his hand away slowly. "I was startled."
"That will get you killed," Trial replied. Then he stepped closer and looked down at Lux's bandages. "Can you stand."
Lux tested his legs carefully. Pain flared, but it was manageable. He pushed himself upright. "Yes."
Trial nodded once, not impressed. "Come down."
Lux followed him down the ladder, one careful step at a time. The storehouse below was dim and cool. Rows of grain sacks lined the walls. A faint scent of dried beans and salt hung in the air.
Trial walked to the main door and opened it.
Sunlight spilled in. Lux blinked, then stepped out into the village yard beside the storehouse. Morning in Bracken Vale was quiet but busy. People carried buckets. Someone chopped wood. A woman swept dirt away from her doorway.
Several heads turned when Lux appeared.
Lux kept his gaze forward and tried to ignore them.
Trial did not.
He watched the villagers watching Lux, as if measuring the exact shape of their fear.
"Three days," Trial said again, voice low. "During these three days you do not leave the palisade."
Lux nodded. "I understand."
Trial's eyes narrowed. "No weapons in the streets. Your sword stays in the storehouse unless I tell you otherwise."
Lux hesitated. It was a small rule, but it felt like being asked to remove his skin.
Trial noticed the hesitation. "You do not trust us."
Lux chose his words carefully. "I do not trust the forest."
Trial's mouth tightened slightly, as if that answer was acceptable, but only barely. "Good. Fear the correct thing."
He gestured toward the far end of the yard, where a stack of split logs lay beside a workbench. "Work," he said. "You will help replenish firewood. It is simple. It keeps you useful and visible."
Lux stared at the logs, then back at Trial. "You want to keep me where you can see me."
Trial did not deny it. "Yes."
Lux swallowed a reply and limped toward the workbench.
A young man stood there already, arms folded, posture tense. He was not much older than Lux, though his face was rougher, sun and wind carved into it. He wore plain clothes and had a short hatchet resting on a stump beside him.
He watched Lux approach with open suspicion.
Trial spoke first. "This is Joa," he said. "He will work with you."
Joa's eyes flicked over Lux's bandages, then to Lux's face. "So you're the stranger."
Lux stopped a few steps away. "Lux."
Joa did not offer his name again. Instead he nodded toward the logs. "You can carry," he said. "I chop."
Lux exhaled slowly. It was not wrong. With his injuries, swinging a hatchet would be painful. Carrying was possible.
Lux picked up the first log.
It was heavier than he expected, but his arms handled it. That surprised him. He adjusted his grip and carried it to the stack.
Joa's hatchet rose and fell, steady and practiced. Wood cracked cleanly. Pieces dropped into a neat pile.
Lux carried. One log, then another.
After several trips, he noticed the stares had not stopped.
Two children stood near a fence, whispering. An older man watched from a doorway, eyes narrowed. A woman paused with a bucket in her hands, then hurried away.
Lux kept his face blank.
Joa chopped for a while, then spoke without looking up. "Kad said you killed the brute."
Lux carried another log. "Yes."
Joa's hatchet struck again. "With that rust sword."
Lux set the log down. "Yes."
Joa finally looked at him. "How."
Lux felt his jaw tighten. "I fought."
"That is not an answer," Joa said.
Lux stared at him for a moment. Joa was not Trial, but he was part of the same village instinct. Protect the group. Identify the threat.
Lux leaned closer just slightly, lowering his voice. "If you are surrounded by monsters and you want to live, you do not ask how. You just move."
Joa's eyes tightened. He looked away and chopped again.
They worked in silence for another stretch.
Lux's arms warmed. His leg ached, but the movement kept it from locking. Sweat gathered at his neck despite the cool air.
He caught himself thinking something he did not like.
He was stronger than yesterday.
Not because of training. Not because of proper meals. Because of goblins.
Lux set a log down and stared at his own hands.
Joa noticed. "You look like you want to throw up."
Lux forced his attention back to the work. "I'm fine."
Joa snorted softly. "No one is fine out here."
That was the closest thing to kindness Lux had heard since arriving.
A shadow moved over them.
Trial had returned, walking across the yard with the same controlled pace. He stopped beside the woodpile and looked at their progress.
"You will eat after this," Trial said. "Then you will meet me at the gate platform."
Lux frowned. "Why."
Trial's gaze did not soften. "Because I want to see how you watch the forest," he replied. "And because you need to learn how this village survives."
Lux nodded slowly.
Trial turned to leave, then paused and looked back at Lux. For a moment, the guard captain's expression shifted into something almost thoughtful.
"You saved Kad," Trial said quietly.
Lux did not respond.
Trial continued, voice low enough that only Lux could hear. "If you are lying about your origin, you chose the correct lie. It keeps people calm. But it will not hold forever."
Lux held Trial's gaze. "Then what do you want."
Trial stared at him for a long moment, as if deciding how much truth Lux could handle.
"I want to know," Trial said, "whether you are a disaster that walked into my village, or a weapon that might keep it alive."
Trial turned and walked away.
Lux stood with a log in his hands, feeling the weight of those words settle on him like a second bandage.
Joa chopped again, the sound sharp and steady.
Lux carried the log to the stack.
He told himself he was only surviving.
But somewhere beneath that, another truth was growing.
If the forest demanded blood, and if blood made him stronger, then this village was not only watching him.
It was waiting to see what he would become.