The hooded figure stopped and pulled back her hood.
She was young—maybe a bit older than Cal. Short dark hair, tired eyes.
"My name's Rae," she said. "We found you outside the city gates, lying in the dirt. You looked like you'd crawled out of a grave."
Cal blinked. "We?"
An old woman stepped in. She wore faded shawls and leaned on a wooden cane. Her messy silver hair hung loose.
"This one's tough," she muttered, looking at Cal. "Most don't survive bleeding like that."
Rae nodded. "That's Mirna. She's the one who helped you."
Mirna sniffed. "Barely. You were burning up like the sun got stuck inside you."
"You're lucky," Rae added. "We got to you in time."
Cal groaned and sat up. "Where… am I?"
"Ahen," Rae said. "A city near the Blackreach Cliffs. Far from wherever you came from."
"Ahen…" Cal repeated. The name meant nothing to him.
Mirna stepped closer, studying him. "You were out for three days. Fever wouldn't break. You kept mumbling nonsense."
Cal looked at his hands. "Was anyone else with me?"
Rae shook her head. "We only found you."
The pain in his chest grew heavy. Serna. The village. All gone.
He swallowed. "Thanks… for saving me."
Mirna didn't answer. She moved to a shelf and picked up a jar, muttering to herself.
Then, with a small flick of her hand, fire lit the brazier in the corner—no matches, no spark.
Cal stared. "What… was that?"
Rae looked over. "Hmm?"
He pointed. "She lit that. Without touching it."
"Fire magic," Rae said.
"Magic?" Cal asked.
Rae raised a brow. "You're serious?"
"I've never seen anything like that."
"Where are you even from?" she asked.
Cal hesitated. "I… don't know anymore."
Mirna snorted from across the room. "Explains why you looked at that fire like it insulted your mother."
"So magic is just… normal?" Cal asked.
"Pretty much," Rae said. "Most people can do a little. Some are better at it."
Cal sank back. He had always thought this world was normal. He was wrong.
He looked down at his hands. "What else can people do?"
"Depends," Rae said. "Fire, water, healing, wind... some are born with it, others learn it."
Cal took a breath. This wasn't the world he thought he knew.
He looked at her. "Can anyone learn it?"
"I want to learn. I'll do whatever it takes."
Mirna laughed dryly and walked over. Her eyes were sharp. "You think you can just show up half-dead and ask for magic like it's a loaf of bread?"
Cal sat up straighter. His side ached, but he didn't care. "I'm not asking for free. I'll work. I'll trade. Just tell me how."
Mirna frowned. "I don't need anything from you. You're patched up. That's more than most get." She tapped her cane. "Now get out. You can walk—so walk."
Cal's chest burned. He thought about Serna, the flames, the blood.
Now this old woman was throwing him away.
Rae stepped forward. "Mirna, that's cruel. We found him almost dead. If someone's after him—"
"He's not my problem," Mirna snapped. "He's alive. That's all."
She pointed to the door. "Out. Before I change my mind."
Cal clenched his fists. He wouldn't beg. He wouldn't stay where he wasn't wanted.
"Fine," Cal said. "I'll figure it out myself."
Rae looked like she wanted to stop him, but he was already pushing himself up. His legs trembled, but he stood.
"Wait," she called softly.
"I'm fine," he snapped, then softened, "Thanks, really. But I need to go."
Mirna went back to grinding herbs, muttering under her breath.
"You're being cold," Rae said.
"And you're being soft," Mirna replied.
Cal didn't stay to argue. He clenched his jaw and stepped outside.
The street buzzed with noise—people shouting, carts rattling, brooms scraping stone.
Cal wove through the crowd, clutching his side. No one paid him any mind.
He slipped into a narrow side path, then into a shadowed alley between tall stone walls. It was quiet here—damp and littered with trash and broken crates.
He sank behind a barrel and leaned against the wall. His legs gave out, pain stabbing with every breath.
Everything crashed down on him.
Serna's voice. Her smile. Her blood.
The fire. The screams.
His hand curled into a fist, pressing into the dirt as he sat up.
"I swear…" His voice was rough, trembling. "I'll come back stronger. So strong they'll beg for mercy."
He stared up at the gray sky.
"I don't care what it takes. I'll learn. I'll fight. I'll tear this world apart if I have to."
His voice cracked. "I'll become a god if that's what it takes."
Serna's face flashed in his mind—cold and still.
"Whoever did this… they'll pay."
He slammed his fist into the ground. "I'll return every pain they gave me. Ten times worse."
He gasped, pain stabbing through his ribs, forcing him to pause.
Slowly, he leaned back and closed his eyes.
The world had taken everything from him.
Now, it was his turn.
Cal slumped against the cold alley wall, each breath sharp and uneven, stabbing his ribs like knives.
From down the street, two men hurried past, voices low but tense.
"Look—The Cutters are back."
"What? Didn't they already squeeze every coin from the small shops this week?"
"Those bastards. They never go after the big shops—only the weak ones."
"Yeah. They always show up when the city watch changes shifts. Cowards, the lot of them."
The Cutters had arrived.
There were five of them. Big men with covered faces, some wearing cloth, others bits of metal. Clubs hung from their belts, swinging as they walked. Their eyes had that look—like they enjoyed hurting people.
They laughed, talking like this was just another job.
"Old Dorren tried hiding his coin again," one said.
"He cry this time?"
"Not enough."
Another laughed. "Next time we break his hand."
Then one of them stopped. He pointed into a dark alley.
"Hey. Look there."
The others turned to see what he was pointing at.
Cal.