Renn woke to the scent of crushed herbs and aged wood.
The ceiling above him was unfamiliar at first glance—fractured beams, patched cloth, and bundles of dried plants hanging from thin cords. Light slipped through broken shutters in uneven streaks, settling across the room like scattered fragments of time.
But the voice that followed was not unfamiliar.
"You're finally awake."
Renn turned his head slightly.
Doctor Rowend sat nearby, organizing medical tools with steady, practiced hands. A man from Eldermire. Someone who had treated him since he was a child, long before anything like this had ever reached their village.
Rowend didn't look up right away. When he finally spoke, his voice carried exhaustion more than relief.
"You've got a habit of making people think you won't come back from things, Renn."
Renn shifted, trying to sit upright.
"How long?"
"Three days."
The answer was immediate.
Only then did Rowend glance at him properly.
"You were brought here unconscious," he continued. "Near the edge of the village. I've handled injuries all my life… cuts, fractures, sickness. But in your case.... I thought you died. I can't sense a heartbeat in you when we found you."
He hesitated, as if revisiting it still made it difficult to explain.
"In that fight," Rowend said more carefully, "you weren't normal."
Renn stayed silent.
Rowend's gaze sharpened slightly, not with fear, but with the memory of what he had witnessed.
"How are you able to move like that? You were faster than anything a human body should allow," he said. "Not just quick—unnaturally so. Like the space between moments didn't apply to you anymore. Are you even human?"
A pause.
"And about that light."
That finally made the room feel heavier.
Rowend continued, his voice lower now.
"Not something shining from outside. It was inside you. Your body itself looked like it was being traced in light—flickering, unstable. Like you were burning from within, but without flame."
He exhaled slowly.
"I don't know what is it. But during that entire fight, you weren't moving like a boy from Eldermire."
His eyes met Renn's.
"You were something else entirely."
Silence settled between them. Rowend leaned back slightly, as if letting the memory go.
The door creaked open.
Elira stepped inside. Her gaze immediately found Renn. Relief softened her face for the first time in days.
"You're awake," she said quietly.
Renn nodded once. "I'm fine."
Elira didn't argue. She simply walked closer, stopping just within reach, as if confirming he was truly there.
Behind her came the steady sound of armored boots. Two royal knights entered the house. Their presence made the space feel tighter, more final. Rowend stepped aside without a word.
One knight stepped forward.
"How are you doing, Renn," he stated. "We are here to invistigate the incident. Nothing to worry about."
No one questioned it.
This was not discovery. It was acknowledgment.
"About the black mist thing you fought last time, they are called Mist Wraith."
At the words, Elira's expression tightened slightly—but she said nothing. The knight continued.
"It is an unstable phenomenon recorded across multiple regions. It does not follow natural law. It erases, distorts, and leaves no predictable aftermath."
A pause followed. Then Renn stood. The movement was calm, certain. As if nothing had changed in this moment—only been accepted.
"I'll participate," he said.
No hesitation. No doubt.
The knight studied him briefly, then nodded once.
"The trial? Gladly hearing it..."
Renn's gaze remained steady. "On one condition." Renn spoke evenly. "Two knights will remain stationed in Eldermire."
The knight lowered his head slightly. "About that... We have already stationed some knights after the incident, so don't worry. It's for the safety of the citizens of Aurelian."
A brief silence followed.
Elira turned her head slightly toward him, but did not interrupt. Rowend watched quietly, understanding more than he said.
The next morning came without ceremony.
Eldermire felt the same as always—but quieter in a way that couldn't be easily described, as if the village itself had accepted that something had already begun to change.
Renn stood outside Rowend's house with a small pack strapped over his shoulder.
Doctor Rowend leaned against the doorway.
"So that's it," he said. "They're taking you."
Renn adjusted the strap. "They're not taking me," he replied. "I'm going."
Rowend gave a short, knowing exhale.
"Same thing, in the end. Try not to come back in worse condition than last time."
Renn didn't answer, but something familiar passed between them anyway.
Elira arrived soon after. She carried a worn wooden box. Without words, she placed it into Renn's hands.
He opened it.
Inside was a folded scarf marked with a family crest, and beside it—two daggers. Simple, well-kept, prepared for use.
Elira watched him carefully. "In case you needed it for the trial," she said softly.
Renn closed the box. "Thank you mother. Don't worry, I'll come back."
Elira smiled faintly—not hopeful, but certain. "I know."
A carriage waited at the edge of Eldermire. Royal knights stood in silence beside it. Renn stepped forward once. Then paused.
His eyes lingered on the village behind him—not as farewell, but as something carried forward.
He climbed into the carriage. The doors closed. And as the wheels began to turn, Eldermire slowly disappeared behind him, leaving only the road ahead and the beginning of something far larger than the village he was leaving behind.