The four walls of our farmhouse were starting to feel like a pine-scented prison.
I had been alive for eight months. My entire world consisted of a kitchen, a hearth, a bedroom, and a yard that smelled heavily of chicken droppings. I used to complain about the twenty-minute walk to my university labs, but now I was desperate for a hike.
"Alright, everyone, shoes on!" Lena called out. "We're taking lunch to your father. He's working the north terrace today."
I almost did a backflip in my crib. Outside? The north terrace? Finally.
Lena scooped me up and settled me into a cloth sling against her chest. I wasn't a fan of being carried like a sack of flour, but it gave me a good view of my surroundings. Ralph stood at the door. He clutched a basket of dark bread that smelled like molasses and toasted grain. Lianne waddled around his feet and pulled on the corner of the cloth covering the basket.
As we stepped out of the yard, I braced myself.
I had spent twelve years memorizing the lore of Odengarde. I knew what this world was supposed to look like. The sky should be a bruised purple, choked with smoke from volcanic forges. The trees should be gnarled, with black bark and sharp leaves. A typical human village was a fortified cluster of stone buildings guarded by men in plate armor.
I looked up, then left, then right.
The sky was a sparkling turquoise. The trees were massive weeping willows with silver-green leaves. The village had no wall. It was just a collection of round houses made of clay and timber. They blended right into the hills.
Wait a minute, I thought. Where are the Spires of Malakor?
In the lore, those massive floating obsidian citadels were visible from everywhere. I scanned the horizon. Nothing. I only saw green hills and a distant mountain range. It looked far too peaceful.
Then I saw the moon. Or rather, a faint outline of it in the daylight. Odengarde had two moons, one red and one blue. It was a central part of the world's history. But the moon hanging in this sky was singular and massive. It had a shimmering ring of dust around it.
"Look, Rowan!" Lianne pointed up. "The Great Halo is bright today! See? It's smiling."
I stared at the ringed moon. I broke out in a cold sweat.
Odengarde didn't have a ringed moon. It definitely didn't have a Great Halo.
I looked at the clay houses again. I watched an elven child by the well laugh and share a piece of fruit with two human boys. In the stories I knew, elves hated humans. They would rather die than share food with us. Here, they were just neighbors playing together.
Panic flared in my chest.
This isn't Odengarde.
I had spent months preparing for a specific set of monsters and a specific magic system. I had twelve years of knowledge memorized.
Don't tell me I'm just some random farmer in some random fantasy world, I screamed internally. My tiny fists clenched the fabric of the sling. Did I really die just to end up in some unknown place?
"Is Rowan okay?" Ralph asked. He leaned in to look at me. "He looks like he's trying to swallow his tongue."
"He's just taking it all in, Ralph," Mom said. She patted my back. "It's a big world for such a little man."
It's the wrong world! I wanted to yell. I prepared for my chemistry final and Odengarde. This place had neither.
I looked back at the ringed moon. It was beautiful, but it terrified me. I had no idea what the rules were here.
I wasn't someone returning to a familiar land. I was a total stranger.
Fine, I thought. No guidebooks. I guess I'll just have to figure out how this place works from scratch.
We walked past the well. I leaned out of the sling to get a better look at the kids. The elven girl waving at Ralph looked about five or six years old. If Gaelen was ninety-two and looked thirty, how old was she? Did elves age like humans until puberty and then just stop?
I needed data. I was a man of science, and I had zero facts to work with.
"Mama," Lianne said. She tugged on Mom's skirt. "Why Papa like the brown bread? It's dirty."
Mom laughed and adjusted my weight on her hip. "It's not dirty, Lianne. Your father says it gives him the strength to talk to the roots. He calls it Mud-bread."
I took a moment to really look at my mother. My vision was finally clear enough to pick up the details. Lena had fair skin and chestnut hair. Freckles dusted her cheeks. My father, Reynan, had deep bronze skin. I had inherited a mix of both.
I frowned. Mudborn.
Gaelen had used that term. Was it about the soil we worked, or was it a comment on Reynan's skin tone? Back on Earth, a term like that would cause immediate problems. But the elf had smiled when he said it. Was it a point of pride? A name for people with earth magic? Or was I just part of a lower social class?
If this world discriminates based on that, I'm going to be very annoyed.
We reached the north terrace. It was a series of stepped fields carved into a hill. Dad was there, shirtless and sweating under the sun. Another elf stood a few yards away. He looked younger than Gaelen, with hair the color of autumn leaves.
"Valen, now!" Dad called out.
I watched them. Reynan and the elf, Valen, moved together. They held their hands low to the ground with their palms up. They slowly raised them in a rhythmic motion.
A visible ripple moved through the air. It looked like heat rising off a road. The soil in the terrace heaved an inch.
Dad looked strained. His muscles tensed like he was lifting a boulder. Valen looked completely relaxed. He just stood there with a smirk on his face.
"They're waking the field," Mom whispered to me. "It's hard work, Rowan. Not many humans have the patience for it."
So my dad was an earth-worker. A Mudborn who actually moved the mud.
On the way back home, the image of their hands stayed in my mind. It looked like a chemical reaction. They were adding energy to a system to lower the activation cost of growth.
I rested in the sling and listened to my mom's heartbeat. Ralph walked ahead of us, and Lianne tried to catch a grasshopper.
I pulled my hand out of the fabric. I mimicked my dad's movement.
Down. Pulse. Pull.
I didn't expect anything to happen. I closed my eyes and visualized the dirt. I thought about the valence electrons in the minerals. I thought about the carbon bonds in the decaying plant matter and the water molecules clinging to the roots. I reached out with my mind. I focused on the chemistry of the world.
Down. Pulse. Pull.
A sharp pressure bloomed between my eyebrows. It felt like an intense brain freeze, but it didn't fade.
A surge of heat rushed from my mind. It raced down my nose, past my jaw, and down my arm like an electric current.
A tiny spark leaped from my fingertip and vanished into the air. It was no bigger than a static shock.
My breath hitched. The pressure in my head receded. It left behind a strange ache, like my brain had just run a marathon.
It was a reaction. In chemistry, once you know the variables, you can control the explosion.
I smiled. Just give me a few more months to work on my grip strength.