It's been a few more weeks.
I don't know exactly how long—maybe two, maybe three. But I've stopped counting the days with dread. They're quieter now. Softer.
I have chores. Not orders. Chores.
I wake up in the morning to sunlight pouring through the window, not shouting or bells or the snap of a whip.
Lina teaches me how to carry the basket of eggs from the coop without cracking them. I learn which chickens like to peck and which just stare dumbly. I learn how to hold a bucket so the water doesn't slosh out on the walk back from the well. Sometimes I help organize shelves, or brush dust out from the corners of the kitchen.
No one yells when I make a mistake. Lina just gives me this patient smile and says, "Try again, sweetheart." That word still hits me like a soft hammer.
Rennan is the same. Quiet and steady. I watch him from the doorway sometimes when he's chopping wood or repairing a fencepost. I catch myself copying the way he moves—how he plants his feet or how he wipes the sweat from his brow with his forearm. It's… nice.
Today we walk through the village again. People wave. One woman gives me a piece of honey candy, says it's for "growing strong." I mumble thanks and try not to hide behind Lina's skirt.
"Everyone's warming up to you," she says with a little nudge. "See?" I nod. Even if I still feel like I don't belong… it's getting easier to pretend that maybe I do.
As we pass the garden near the front gate, I see someone I haven't seen before. An old man.
Not like Erdric. Older. Hard lines on his face. His gray hair is tied back in a short tail, and his coat is worn leather patched at the shoulders. A longbow rests across his back, and at his belt hangs a knife that looks like it's seen real blood.
He walks like he's part of the wind—quiet, sure, like nothing around him can surprise him anymore. I stare. "Lina…" I tug her sleeve. "Who's that?" She turns, spots him, and smiles a little.
"That's Varric," she says. "He's the village hunter." I tilt my head. "I've never seen him before."
"He's out most days," she says. "He only comes back when the food runs low or when the seasons change."
I glance at the bow. "He looks… strong." She nods. "He used to be an adventurer. Traveled across half the continent before he settled here. He's not originally from Willowmere."
"Like me," I murmur. She looks down, surprised. "Exactly like you." A weird feeling twists in my stomach. Not bad. Just warm. A little heavy.
"He doesn't talk much," she adds. "Keeps to himself. But everyone here accepted him anyway." Her eyes flick to mine. "Just like they're starting to accept you."
I look away, embarrassed. "Oh…" My thoughts spiral quickly. He was an adventurer. That means he's seen real battle. Fought monsters. Maybe even used magic. If I could just ask him—"Can I—?" I stop myself.
Lina raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to meet him?" I nod, shyly. She smiles. "Not today. He looks busy. But we can ask another time."
"Okay," I say, feeling weirdly disappointed and relieved at the same time.
That night, I sit cross-legged in my room, staring at my palm, trying to summon magic. Nothing happens. Still too small. Still too tired. Eventually, I crawl into bed and close my eyes. But the darkness doesn't stay peaceful.
I try to sleep. But sleep has its own ideas. The second my eyes close, it pulls me under too fast—like falling into water with no bottom.
It starts with fire. Screams echo in my ears. Flames licking iron bars. The scent of burning wood and flesh. Elaria's voice calling my name, but I can't find her. I run through smoke but everything blurs.
Then I'm somewhere else. A gray sky. Cold wind. My old world. I'm in the playground again, standing by the swing. The kids are gone. The chains creak. No one's pushing the swing, but it moves anyway.
I look down. There's no shadow behind me. Then—faintly—I hear the voice. That one word. "Cursed." It echoes and echoes, louder, deeper, until it's not just sound anymore. It's inside me. Under my skin. In my bones.
I scream. My hands burn. My vision warps. And suddenly… I'm back in the forest. The wolves are circling. Elaria is bleeding beside me. And this time, when I reach for her, she turns her head away.
"Why didn't you save me?"
"No… I tried—I—!"
"Why did you run?"
My voice breaks. "I didn't want to… I didn't—!"
The wolves leap. Teeth. Claws. Fire. Darkness.
AAAAHHHHH!!!! I wake up screaming. My body jerks up in bed like I've been shocked. Sweat pours down my face. My hands are shaking so bad I can't unclench them. My chest hurts.
Then the door slams open. "Albus!" Lina rushes in, Rennan right behind her.
"What happened!?" I can't even form words. Lina's arms wrap around me fast and tight. Her hand smooths the back of my head while I cry into her shoulder. "It's okay, sweety. You're okay. You're safe now. You're safe."
My body won't stop trembling. My breath comes in short, sharp bursts. Rennan kneels beside the bed. His voice is quiet. "It was a nightmare. Just a dream."
Just a dream. But it didn't feel like a dream. It felt like a warning. Or a memory that didn't know how to die.
I don't remember how long we stay like that. Eventually, my tears stop. But I still can't talk.
…
Morning comes. I wake up with puffy eyes and sore muscles. My mouth is dry. My throat feels raw. Rennan and Lina are already sitting at the kitchen table when I shuffle out of my room. They both look up.
"Hey," Rennan says gently. Lina stands and walks over, kneeling down so she's eye-level with me. "You don't have to say anything," she says. "But you're safe here. And we're proud of how far you've come. When you're ready to talk… we'll be here."
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I try again. "…Thank you." Just two words. Barely audible.
But Lina smiles. "That's more than enough."
Rennan leans back in his chair. "Wanna go outside again? Get some air?"
I nod. "Just with me today," Lina says. "Rennan's got errands."
"Okay." I'm still tired. Still shaken. But I step outside anyway.
The sun is warm again. And somehow, it feels a little more real than it did yesterday. The village is awake when we step outside. Chickens cluck in their pens. A woman hangs bright-colored linens on a line to dry. Somewhere behind us, I hear the rhythmic clink of hammer on metal—someone sharpening tools.
Everyone we pass waves or smiles. It's still strange, how people here look at me. Not with fear. Not with suspicion. Just… normal. Like I belong.
"Good morning, Albus!" a man calls from across a cart. I nod back, barely. Then, from the side path, a familiar voice. "Hey!" I flinch, but only a little. It's the same girl from before. Nella.
She's holding something in her arms—a small rag doll with yellow yarn hair—and her cheeks are flushed from running. "You wanna play with us today?" she asks, bouncing slightly.
I freeze. I look at Lina. She gives a gentle nod. "You can go. We'll be nearby."
I hesitate. Then, softly, I nod. Nella grins. "Yay! Come on!" She grabs my hand—not hard, just enough to guide me—and pulls me toward the group. There are four other kids today. All around my size. One of them is the goat-rider from before. "This is Albus!" Nella declares. "He's gonna play hide-and-seek with us!"
The kids cheer. I smile awkwardly. Hide-and-seek, I think. I'm a teenager in a toddler's body, playing this like it's serious business. But somehow, it doesn't feel wrong. Just… simple.
"We'll count to a hundred!" one boy says. "Everyone else hide!" The kids scatter. I run, feet light on the grass, heart pounding. It's a weird kind of fun. I duck between buildings, look for corners, peek into barrels. Most places feel too open. Then I spot the woodshed near the edge of the village. And someone sitting on a stump. The old man.
Varric. The hunter. He's sharpening a knife with a slow, practiced rhythm, the sound like whispering stone. He doesn't look up, but I stop anyway. "You playing a game?" he asks, his voice low and even.
"…Hide and seek," I say, surprised he even knew. He nods once. "I see."
A moment passes. Then he shifts slightly and taps the side of the shed. "There's a little hole there. Between the logs. Should be just big enough."
I blink. "Why are you helping?" He glances at me finally. His eyes are sharp but not cruel. "You looked like you didn't want to be seen," he says. "That's all."
I glance at the hole. It's narrow. Dark. Like the cages used to be. My breath catches. But I crouch anyway.
I slide in. It's dusty. Quiet. Too quiet. I hug my knees to my chest.
A minute passes. Then five. Then ten. The silence presses on me like weight. The dark wraps around my head like a shroud.
I feel like I'm back inside that forest again. all alone in the dark, with no one to call for help. My chest tightens. I start to shake. They forgot me. They left me here. Just like before—
I can't breathe. I can't see. I can't feel anything. Then—nothing.
…
"ALBUS!" The voice is distant. Hands grab at me. Light floods the space.
A shout goes up. "Get help!" I can't move. I can't speak. I feel like I'm drowning inside my own skin.