The walk back to Oakwood was faster than the climb. Once pungent with cold and rain, the air was now warm, almost unnaturally so—like the world was trying to overcompensate for the storm. Cloaks were shed, shirts unbuttoned, and for the first time in days, their steps didn't sink into mud.

  But the world wasn’t the same. James could still smell the storm on the wet earth. The air was thick and stuck to your skin, and distant storm clouds still clung to the horizon like they were unwilling to leave.

  Everywhere he looked, he saw the scars of battle. Toppled trees, some scorched, some uprooted entirely. The land looked raw, with large sections having massive grooves from thrown boulders.

  James kept checking over his shoulder. Expecting an attack, expecting to hear the thunderous steps of the Vessel, waiting for them to strike when his guard was down. For a new monster to attack them. But they never came.

  The rocky mountain path softened, giving way to lush grass and old oak trees. The further they walked, the less the land looked broken, but James still wasn’t sure if anything would ever feel normal again. He kept waiting for the Sister to wiggle into his mind and tell him it wasn't over, but she was silent and far away.

  They made camp beneath a moonless sky full of stars. The air stayed warm, and James lay on the grass staring up into the sky. The constellations were unmoving, his mind circling back to what the Sister had shown him, but he pushed it away. The fire crackled low, its orange glow dancing over the damp earth, casting flickering shadows against the trees.

  A branch rustled. James spun a blade of moonlight snapping to life in his hands.

  “What are you guys doing for dinner?” James relaxed just in time to see Nera duck beneath a low branch, three large rabbits slung over her shoulder. His stomach let out a loud growl, loud enough to be heard over the fire.

  Nera grinned.

  Max, however, sat motionless, staring into the flames.

  James followed his gaze—and felt a knot in his stomach.

  The gem in Max’s eye socket was glowing. Not bright, not blinding—but a slow, deep pulse, like something inside it was breathing or talking.

  “Max?” James said, concern creeping into his voice.

  Max blinked hard, shaking himself.

  “Sorry, what were we talking about?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  James tried to meet Nera's eyes, however she just squatted next to him, with a groan.

  "What are you doing for dinner?" she repeated, flashing him a mocking grin. "I got these for me, after all."

  Max snorted but didn't meet James' gaze.

  "You okay, Red?" she asked, her tone more curious than teasing.

  "Yeah. Just… gettin’ used to my new eye." He lifted his finger, pointing at the gem.

  James swore it looked like it was pulling in the firelight.

  “I can see…” Max frowned, still watching the flames. "It’s—nah. It’s stupid."

  Nera arched a brow.

  "What is it, Max? Can’t be stupider than being the vessel for a god." James tossed a stick into the fire. It sparked and sputtered, sending a mote of flame dancing into the sky.

  “Or being devilishly good-looking," she added, smirking. "Oh wait, no, that’s just me.”

  James chuckled, shaking his head.

  Nera started to skin and gut the rabbits, and her movements were smooth and practiced. James watched her work, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  Max rubbed a hand over his face.

  "I think…" He swallowed. "I think I can glimpse the future."

  James and Nera both looked at him now. Max prodded the fire with a stick, watching the embers swirl.

  "Like—I know that tomorrow, we’re gonna run into some of the people from the fort. Four of the ones that ran." His grip tightened on the stick. "They’re gonna try and attack us. I think."

  Silence.

  The fire crackled.

  James’ stomach twisted. Nera sighed, tossing a chunk of rabbit meat onto flat stones, heating in the flames.

  "Great," she muttered. "Guess I’ll sharpen my sword after dinner."

  The fire burned low, crackling in the quiet between them. The scent of roasting rabbit mixed with the damp earth, and it almost felt normal for a moment. Almost.

  James tore off a strip of meat, the juices burning his fingers, but he barely felt it. His mind was too tangled, too loud.

  Max can see the future. Or at least something akin to it.

  James stole a glance at him across the fire. Max was chewing idly, his new eye glinting with reflected flame. He looked normal enough—the same easy grin and relaxed slouch—but James couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

  The silence stretched too long.

  "So," Nera finally said, licking grease from her fingers, "any chance this vision of yours involves me finding a really nice bottle of wine tomorrow?"

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Doubt it. But hey, maybe I ain’t lookin’ hard enough." Max snorted.

  "Try harder, Red. Some of us have standards." She smirked.

  Max chuckled, but his fingers drummed lightly against his knee, the way they had when he was thinking too hard. He still hadn't looked away from the fire.

  "Are you sure?" James frowned. "About the attack?"

  Max finally looked up, meeting James’ gaze.

  The gem in his socket pulsed, deep and slow, like a heartbeat buried in stone. Max's lips pulled tight as he squared his shoulders.

  "Yeah," he murmured. "I’m sure."

  "How sure?" Max's jaw clenched as he made fists in his lap. His food was all but forgotten.

  "It’s like a memory that ain’t happened yet." He sighed, running a hand through his tangled red hair. "They ain’t gonna make it fancy, just waiting for us at the fork before Oakwood."

  Nera hummed, tilting her head back and stretching her sore muscles.

  "Sounds like a waste of energy," she muttered.

  James turned his gaze to her. She was watching Max now. Really watching. She wasn’t laughing anymore. The easy grin was gone, and the swagger facade dropped.

  "You’ve been different since we left, Red," she said, voice softer than usual. "That thing in your head—does it feel like it belongs to you?"

  Max looked at Nera, tilting his head to the side. James stiffened and waited for the answer. Eventually, Max shook his head.

  "I dunno," he admitted. "Feels like… like there’s something else. Some part of me that ain’t mine. But it ain’t talkin’. Just showin’ me things. Kinda like dis big brother looking out for me, ya."

  James studied his friend and really examined him. Max had always been steady—the one who laughed first, hit second, and never worried. But now, something haunted was behind his grin.

  Nera seemed to study Max for a long moment, then shrugged, popping another bite of rabbit into her mouth.

  "Well, if you start sprouting storm clouds and calling yourself a god, I’m putting you down." She winked at him.

  "I’d expect nothin’ less." Max barked a laugh.

  They broke camp at first light. None of them were eager to start the day, but a weight was in the air. James felt like if he was going to fight, he might as well get it over with.

  The road to Oakwood stretched ahead, winding past fields still mired in floodwater. The world seemed untouched by battle, but James could see the storm’s lingering scars—trees splintered, fences washed away, the earth still raw and open. Yet, despite it all, this was the path home. It felt firm beneath his feet. Like each step was bringing him closer to being at peace.

  Nera walked ahead, a lazy sway in her step, but James could see it—the coiled strength beneath the casual movement, a blade always ready to strike.

  "It’s time. They’re just ahead." Max said, his voice light but with an edge.

  James felt his stomach knot.

  I don’t think I want to kill people. Not anymore.

  He shifted his cloak, eyes flicking to Nera. She moved subtly, drawing the sword from the special clip on her back.

  Max just grinned, shaking his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

  They rounded the bend. Four figures stood waiting, looking around as if searching for someone just under the signpost, the road stretching to either side of them. Then they saw James, and the taller figure stepped forward. James was taken aback. They weren’t armed. They waved—slow, hesitant—as they approached, their faces unreadable. James instinctively stepped back, his power pooling at his fingertips.

  “Not an attack but an ambush.” Nera laughed under her breath. Slipping the sword back into place and leaning against a tree.

  The tall and broad man with a grizzled beard stepped forward first. His hands flexed at his sides before he stuck one out toward James.

  "Thank you. Thank you for saving me and my family." James was caught off guard, his gaze shifting past the man to the three others behind him: a woman close to the man's age, her face lined with exhaustion, and two younger ones, only a few years younger than James. He saw it then—the resemblance. A father. A mother. A son. A daughter.

  Not cultists. Not soldiers. Just people. The man swallowed hard.

  "We lost our way. We’re not proud of it. We just…" He rubbed a hand over his face. "We didn’t want to send one of our kids to war. To the Imperium. And he—he offered us a way out."

  James' chest tightened. The man’s gaze flickered down, unable to meet James' eyes. "We just wanted to say thank you."

  James didn’t know what to say. The words stuck in his throat.

  Then Nera elbowed him, hard, in the ribs.

  "Uh—you're welcome," James managed, taking the man's outstretched hand.

  The man nodded as if that was enough. He motioned to his family, and together, they turned away from Oakwood, walking toward Forrestdale and a life they could still find.

  James watched them go. Hope rose in him, a genuine smile lit his face, and he laughed, full-chested, until he gasped for air.

  "Imma gonna kill you, Max," James wheezed out. Max simply ran away down the road towards Oakwoon, and with a slap on his back from Nera, James followed.

  Nera shielded her eyes, scanning the horizon as they walked. James knew it before she said anything. "You sure about this?"

  "What, you want me to settle down in a cozy little farm town?" She stopped walking atop the hill, its green grass shifting in the breeze.

  "Not exactly your style. Even if it's a smithy?" James huffed a laugh. She looked like a black bird of prey, ready to take flight into the wind, finally freed from a cage.

  "Not exactly," she agreed, looking back at them again.

  "Where ya headin’?" Max raised an eyebrow.

  "Wherever I want," Nera said, smirking. James took his time walking to stand beside her, his fingers brushing against hers. She took his hand in hers.

  The old oaks thinned out here. James could see the farms like a giant quilt stretched across the land and the distant grasslands beyond.

  James didn't expect an answer. Still… watching her walk away felt wrong.

  "If I ever need you," James said, "how will I find you?"

  Nera turned to him, grinning like she knew something he didn’t, and softly kissed his cheek. The scent of spice filled his lungs as he breathed her in once last time.

  “You won’t.” She winked. “But I’ll be there.”

  Then, just like that, she was gone. Running down the road, further into the untamed lands of the Wylds, with her blond hair and too-large sword. James knew she would be alright, but he watched her go for a long moment until Max clapped a hand on his shoulder.

  "Come on, Silver. I can smell pie." There was a teasing in Max's tone, and James chuckled to himself.

  "Lead the way, Red." And they turned and followed the road towards home.

  James spotted the forge before he heard it. The large building has three sets of double doors. Or rather—he didn’t hear it.

  No ringing steel. No rhythmic hammer against iron. No roar of the forge fire.

  But he smelled something

  Berry pie.

  Max let out a whoop and took off at a sprint.

  James followed slower, his eyes tracing the familiar shape of home. The forge’s heavy doors stood open, dust settling in the silent workspace. The house—solid, warm and welcoming.

  Miss Silvia burst from the house, skirts flying, eyes wide with tears.

  Before James could even brace himself, she was there—grabbing them both, pulling them in, her arms tight around their shoulders.

  James bent to her height, wrapping his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest. Max clutched the back of her dress, his face buried in her shoulder.

  James didn’t care if it wasn't right for a kid to hug his family; he just knew now he was home. James didn't know how long they stood there.

  An eternity. A breath.

  Finally, Miss Silvia pulled back, wiping her face, shaking her head.

  "Look at you," she whispered. "Look at my boys."

  She sniffed, swatting at them both before turning back toward the house.

  "Pie’s done. And don’t even think about eating before washing up."

  Max groaned and watched her go inside.

  James lingered. Turned to face the old forge, snapping three times because now two ghosts haunted it.

  Slowly, he pushed past the open doors to the forge. The air inside was still untouched. The coals in the hearth were long dead, and a fine layer of dust covered the worktables and anvils.

  James swallowed hard. Then, he grabbed an apron off the hook, pulling it over his head. He opened the old box of tools, looked past the sword in its lacquered sheath, and grabbed a hammer. He lifted the hammer in his hands, turned it over, and felt the weight settle in his grip.

  "I got the bellows." Max appeared at his side, rolling up his sleeves.

  James nodded and took a breath. He'd worry about the town, the vision, and the future tomorrow.

  Right now, he needed to light a fire.

  If we get 10 favorites or even 20 follows, I will start posting book 2 and keep the story going.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.