Dawn painted the room in soft hues—lavender and gold spilling across the wooden walls like balm. Spud’s eyes fluttered open, the memory of the woods still etched behind them. The mage. The storm. Timmy’s slingshot. It hadn’t faded. Not yet.
He turned his head toward the next bed.
Alexi was stirring, his face pale and drawn, each breath thin but steady.
“How are you feeling?” Spud asked softly.
Alexi blinked, then gave a crooked smile through the pain. “Horrible,” he admitted with a wince. “But alive, so... no complaints. You?”
Spud exhaled, the tension in his chest loosening. “Better than you, I think. Though I suspect any sudden movement would disagree.”
Alexi chuckled weakly, then grimaced. “Sorry I passed out during your story,” he murmured. “It was getting good. You’ll have to finish telling me about that black-cloaked mage in the woods.”
Spud smiled faintly. “I can do that.”
Alexi’s eyes sharpened—curiosity threading through the pain like a needle through cloth. “I’ve seen mages like that before. Why was he after you?”
Spud’s lips parted, but before he could answer, the door slid open.
Miluna entered. Her presence was a balm—cool, quiet, and steady. The room seemed to breathe with her, as if it too had been holding its breath. Her blue eyes swept across the dim space, calm and precise, softening the ache that lingered in the air.
“Later,” Spud whispered, giving Alexi a subtle nod.
“Good morning,” Miluna said gently, her voice like silk worn smooth by time. She moved without hurry, with the confidence of someone who’d done this a thousand times, but still cared each time.
Spud and Alexi offered tired smiles—grateful ones.
She began with Spud, fingers deft as she unwrapped the bandages. Her touch was light, but her gaze was clinical.
“How’s the pain?”
“Better,” Spud murmured. “Still there... but duller.”
She nodded, tilting his chin to inspect the wound. “No swelling. No redness. That’s a good sign.” Her fingers pressed near the edge—testing. “You’re healing cleanly.”
She moved to Alexi next, brushing damp hair from his clammy brow. Her palm rested lightly against his skin.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7zXBDliaIW
Alexi winced as she peeled back the wrappings. “Still hurts like hell,” he muttered, “but I can deal.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN1OStWCOXc
“No fever,” she said, voice easing with relief. “That’s what I was watching for.”
Her hands were swift—balm, fresh cloth, gentle pressure. “You’re both tougher than you look.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa7JPFMBApw
Alexi gave a crooked grin. “Don’t let that get around.”
She chuckled softly, then rested her hand on Spud’s forearm.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUF7b1DGMQa
“We’ll change the dressings each day. Infection’s still a threat, but your bodies are doing the rest.”
To Alexi: “You’ll be in this bed a while. Try not to argue with it.”
Her smile lingered, then she was gone. The door hissed shut behind her.
Spud exhaled. “Was kinda hoping she’d bring more of that medicine.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQGkfMxfXXs
Alexi nodded dreamily. “That stuff was magic. I’d still be whimpering without it.”23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡviiLvVo2f0
“Maybe we can beg for more later.”
A gentle quiet settled—the kind that makes you notice everything: a dripping pipe outside, the creak of timber above, voices muffled by stone.
Then, softer:23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcnlHDSENRq
“You’re from Convota, yeah?” Alexi asked.
Spud nodded. “Born there. Never really left—until now.”
“Bartrov,” Alexi said, voice dimming. “But it never felt like home.”
Spud turned toward him, brow creasing.
“My mum was sick. I was a kid. Took care of her best I could. She passed when I was ten. After that, Bartrov was just... shadows and quiet halls.” His eyes grew distant, voice thin. “I left. Wandered. Slept under wagons. Sang for coin. Never looked back.”
Spud said nothing—just watched Alexi’s face, feeling the weight of each word.
“I think... the road felt more like home than any city ever did,” Alexi said. “I belonged to the journey, not the place.”
“I’m sorry about your mum,” Spud said quietly.
“She’s free now. I miss her, yeah. But I think she’s... somewhere better.” He gave a weak laugh. “I became a bard after. Music helped. Stories helped more. And then... well, I got caught.”
A pause. Then Alexi turned, voice barely a whisper:23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEdCsOtjm2E
“I’m too tired to cry. Will you... finish your story?”
Spud hesitated, then nodded.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg5AOc2pzav
“Alright. I left off with Timmy hitting the mage, right?”
Alexi gave a slow nod, eyelids heavy but eyes shining with fragile hope.
Spud leaned back, letting the rhythm take him.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUhUIhPbIfr
“So the bolt—pure lightning magic—ripped through the air. Sounded like a thousand bees screaming.”
Alexi smiled faintly.
*
The world twisted.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp7zWyRrBxy
Spud’s vision blurred, the forest melting into a haze of dread. The hooded man’s magic surged—raw, lethal, unstoppable. His limbs jerked, useless. The earth tilted beneath him. Breath locked in his chest—a trapped thing waiting to die.
Pain spiked through his skull, white and blinding.
Then—symbols.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiVxA6uykA6
Arcane glyphs bloomed before his eyes—impossible, ancient. They pulsed with eerie clarity, whispering of forgotten gods and truths too vast for words. Time fractured. Each heartbeat slowed into infinity as the sigils danced, seared into the air itself.
A gasp escaped him.
Light wrapped around him.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzhx8QBXTEf
A barrier—shimmering, alive—burst into being. Colors coiled like dragon scales in moonlight. Iridescent. Shifting. Divine.
The bolt froze midair—seething light caught between breaths.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDvvMLYLoIp
Not stopped. Denied.
Spud blinked, heart hammering in the sudden stillness.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOKNrY5jU8w
The world had answered. But why him?
He couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. The shield pulsed with a will not his own—wild, sacred, watching.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTqPHouy5tz
It hadn’t been cast. It had arrived.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMaf5CV9ZJc
As if the world itself had spoken, and said: not yet.
Celestial light washed over the forest, leaves sparkling like scattered stars. Shadows dissolved, retreating from the glow. A deep rhythm pulsed through the air—a pulse that thudded in Spud’s chest, ancient and unyielding.
He stretched a trembling hand forward.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlz5Kx3LhMC
Fingertips met the shimmering barrier—cool and humming beneath his skin.
A surge shot through him—neither flame nor chill, but something raw and unspoken.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGB7XWhVEdb
Not pain. Not power.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIDOxMpIAQV
Promise.
Whispers rose—soft as dreams. A language older than thought.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwQIpT2Lck6
Older than gods.
The rain softened.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgsbBzQ5TRl
The forest exhaled.
The bolt—still trembling—stirred.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAPKsEQyfxH
Not forward. Backward.
Reality twisted back on itself—deliberate, controlled, as if the world rewrote its own fate.
The hooded figure staggered, cloak snapping in a sudden gust. From beneath it, he pulled a black box—etched with frantic runes, thrumming with trapped power.
His lips moved in a silent plea—too late.
The bolt slammed into the box.
The box exploded in blinding fury. Light tore the clearing apart. Sparks spun like furious stars, scattering shadows.
Spud stumbled, skin crawling under the shock of raw magic—static and fire dancing across his flesh. The box cracked open, shards twisting like serpents. Glyphs swirled over broken surfaces—whispers of a lost power.
Silence fell.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiWz1JEghAm
Everything stilled.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNxbHmwW81y
The world held its breath.
Spud’s chest rose and fell in ragged gasps. His mind raced, chasing impossible thoughts: the shield, the reversal, the voice behind the storm.
The shattered box pulsed, alive—watching.
A shiver ran down his spine—not from cold, but from knowing.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFLkjxOU7wg
Something had seen him.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDNNXs2svBC
Chosen him.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKMCv2SCOid
And this was only the beginning.
At the clearing’s heart, the fractured box throbbed with eerie light. Glyphs shimmered across its cracked surface—whispered secrets in a language Spud didn’t understand, yet felt deep inside. Each pulse sent tremors rippling through the soaked earth, as if the forest itself recoiled.
The figure in black—once composed—now unraveled. Trembling hands clutched the box’s remnants. Desperation bled from him: regret, fear, the dawning horror of having unleashed something beyond control. Spud saw it in his eyes—the moment a man becomes witness to his own undoing.
A haunting hum filled the air, vibrating through earth and bone. The box brightened, symbols throbbing with power. An eerie melody wove through the storm like a forgotten lullaby.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPCWim024KS
Spud’s heart clenched, awe and terror twisting inside him. He braced himself, trembling yet resolute. Somewhere deep, a flicker of bravery ignited—not from confidence, but necessity.
From behind the oak, Timmy stepped forward—pale-faced, leg bleeding, eyes locked on Spud. Pain etched every line of his face, but his focus sharpened, protective instinct overriding everything else.
Then the forest shifted.
An unearthly force surged. The ground heaved beneath their feet. Lightning tore the sky apart; thunder roared like a beast freed.
The box pulsed again—brighter, louder, wilder.
Glyphs danced across the forest floor, etched in shimmering light. Timmy’s heart hammered. Electricity prickled his skin. The air thickened—ancient, sacred, dangerous.
Spud’s vision blurred; symbols flared behind his eyes. His head throbbed.
Then the trees moved.
Branches twisted. Roots writhed forward—not to destroy, but to contain—glowing with the same strange rhythm pulsing in Spud’s chest. Beautiful. Terrifying.
The roots wove shimmering, aurora-like patterns, encircling the box and recoiling with each surge of lightning. Nature and magic clashed, danced, converged.
The forest fell silent. Leaves whispered warnings.
Timmy stood frozen, mouth slightly parted. He watched—not as a boy, but as a witness to gods arguing in a language made of stormlight and memory.
Then it screamed.
A sound not meant for human ears tore through the clearing—sharp, shrill, full of desperation. The storm above howled in reply. Lightning cracked the sky in chaotic ribbons of violet and blue. Trees bent low in reverence—or fear.
A final burst of power flared from the shattered box—and from it bloomed a symbol scorched into the earth: a radiant, circular slate glowing with otherworldly light.
A doorway.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHvMA16pypF
A wound.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKLsHZ5JMh4
A whisper of somewhere else.
The portal’s edges crackled with a scent like ozone and burnt silk. The air tasted sharp, metallic on Spud’s tongue. His skin prickled as if thousands of tiny sparks danced just beneath his flesh.
Then silence.
The box ceased its death throes. Smoke coiled upward like a departing soul. Slowly, cautiously, the roots unwrapped and withdrew, leaving behind torn soil and a stillness thick as prophecy.
Timmy exhaled sharply. His leg throbbed—bloodied and burning—but his gaze never left Spud.
Above, the air still crackled—residual magic snapping through the barrier like phantom lightning, bathing the clearing in shifting, ethereal light.
Spud’s hair rose in a static halo. The earth shuddered beneath him.
He didn’t notice the branch twisting loose.
Lightning spat from the portal—a jagged, furious strike.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtGG30lu9zm
It hit the tree above with a deafening crack.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz14ueJU6uy
The limb crashed down like a hammer, smashing into his leg.
White-hot pain exploded, stealing his breath. He cried out—but his mind was already elsewhere.
The portal shimmered like a wound rent in the world.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoBCfFJ19co
Its center spun with swirling lights and shadows—23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQFeLs8cGdp
an unfolding tapestry of motion and meaning.
Through the veil, Spud glimpsed something impossible: jagged mountains beneath a purple sky, towers etched with alien runes, and a line of soldiers emerging from a twin gate, their synchronized steps echoing like war drums through eternity.
They halted.
The forest twisted around them—shifting, reshaped by forces older than roots and deeper than stone.
Near the portal, the black-cloaked man staggered. Smoke clung to his form like sorrow. He fumbled with the box again—then froze.
An arrow struck.
The shaft buried itself in his shoulder with a sickening crunch. He grunted, eyes wide, scanning the trees for his hunter. Blood soaked his cloak, but he didn’t falter. Jaw clenched, he yanked the arrow free and forced himself forward, dragging one leg behind.
Spud strained beneath the branch, heart pounding. He clawed at the dirt, desperate. The footsteps came closer.
Another arrow.
This one struck his other shoulder. He dropped to one knee, face twisted in pain. His hood slipped back.
Spud froze.
The man’s skin was dark, features scarred. His eyes—bloodshot, burning—met Spud’s. And something passed between them.
Not hate. Not yet.
Recognition.
The man’s expression shifted—twisted. Grief and rage surged behind his eyes, his mouth curling into a soundless snarl. He saw Spud—not as a child, but as a witness. A threat.
The clearing pulsed.
The man screamed—a wordless howl of fury and despair—and thrust out a hand. From his palm erupted a wave of seething dark energy, fast and raw—the magic of something cornered and furious.
Spud couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
The bolt raced toward him.
He didn’t cry out. Just thought, please—not as prayer, but instinct.
And the world answered.
The storm paused. The air thickened.
A figure stepped from the veil of rain and shadow—woven from silence and silver.
They wore a cloak of deep midnight blue, velvet etched with glowing sigils that pulsed like constellations. The symbols shifted as they moved, light tracing old truths in the folds. Warmth radiated from them—not heat, but presence, older than any forest god or whispered name.
In their hand: a staff.
Dark, smooth, gnarled like a branch. The carved grip glowed steadily, as if it remembered something.
The figure moved with impossible grace.
They flicked their wrist. Using the staff, the stranger batted away the bolt.
The bolt veered off course, scattering into the storm like frightened birds.
Silence fell.
Spud stared, wide-eyed. Fear gave way to awe. The stranger turned. Their cowl masked their face, but Spud felt the gaze—ancient, searching. As if it sifted through his thoughts like sand.
He felt seen. Not just as a boy. But as something more.
Their gaze pierced through him—not cruel, not kind. Just... knowing. As if they remembered the world before names. Spud’s heart thundered. Something ancient stirred behind that cloak. Spud didn’t know why his hands shook—but they did. A being of immense power. Of cosmic purpose.
And yet…
Beneath the warmth, a flicker of unease stirred. Something deeper. Something veiled.
Spud couldn’t name it. But he felt it.
Still—this stranger had shielded him. Had turned death aside. In this storm of madness, they were the eye. He had no choice but to trust.
Spud drew a shuddering breath.
The portal convulsed—colors swirling like molten ink. Spud’s bones ached. It was pulling him into something not quite real.
Timmy stumbled into view, face drawn in pain, blood matting his shirt. He limped toward Spud, but then the portal screamed—23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVdOLNgMkmK
—and spat out another bolt.
Fast. Lethal.
The stranger moved.
The cloak flared—caught in starlight wind.
A glyph ignited on the stranger’s palm: sharp angles, burning silver.
The bolt hit.
Light flared, humming like the hush before a prayer.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0mnrx5qNjf
And it held.
Timmy staggered, breath ragged. His eyes locked on the symbol that had saved his life. The storm still raged, but something else beat louder in his chest—wonder. Terror. A child’s belief rekindled.
He swallowed hard. “Who... are you?”
The figure turned.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwUrvafuz6w
No answer came—only silence, heavy with meaning.
Pinned beneath the branch, Spud stared. His thoughts spun—too loud to name. Who was this stranger? Why had they come? What did their sudden appearance mean?
Yet amid the dread, a flicker of hope stirred. The tree roots. The shield. The timing. It wasn’t coincidence. Spud saw it now—this figure had been watching. Guiding. Protecting.
The portal pulsed—violent, erratic. It tugged at Spud’s chest like a living thing. His eyes flicked to the swirling chaos inside—shapes, colors, whispers from another world. Fear warred with fascination.
Timmy limped toward him, pain etched into every step. Their eyes met—a silent promise. Timmy would not abandon him. Could not. Their bond was more than blood. It was forged in fire and storm.
Spud leaned forward, straining to free himself.
At the portal’s edge, the black-clad man turned, his eyes wild—fear and malice burning in equal measure. He locked gazes with the stranger, then with Spud.
The cloaked figure raised a hand. A gust of wind surged, lifting the branch with effortless grace.
Spud scrambled to his feet.
The stranger turned toward the black-clad man, posture sharpening with quiet resolve. Then his gaze returned to Spud—urgent, commanding.
“Stand tall, boy. He will remember your face.”
The words rang with cryptic weight. Spud didn’t understand. But he obeyed.
The black-clad man gave Spud one final look—rage, pain, and something else. Then he leapt into the portal, screaming as he vanished into its depths.
The portal convulsed. Lightning erupted in chaotic bursts. The air crackled. The forest trembled.
The stranger stepped close, placing a hand on Spud’s shoulder. His smile—calm, unwavering—cut through the storm like a beacon.
“We’ll meet again,” he said softly.
Then, with a wink, he dissolved into ether. Gone.
Spud stood frozen, questions racing through his mind. Why had the stranger left? What did he mean by “remembering your face”? Confusion clawed at him, but Spud squared his shoulders. No time for fear. Not anymore.
Then the portal surged again.
A crackling bolt of electricity spiraled around Timmy, shattering his protective barrier.
He froze, terror rippling through him as the vortex expanded—hungry, relentless.
Spud felt it too. The pull.
Swirling energies wrapped around him, arcs of lightning casting eerie shadows across the forest floor.
Within the portal’s depths, he glimpsed a world both serene and perilous—a place that beckoned and threatened in equal measure.
Timmy pressed on, each step a battle. Bolts cracked around him—chaotic, wild.
His eyes never left Spud.
Pain throbbed sharp in his leg.
But he didn’t stop.
Spud fought back, muscles screaming, breath ragged.
Every movement was a war against invisible currents.
He reached out.
Timmy reached back.
Their fingertips brushed.
Then the portal roared.
A final surge tore Spud from Timmy’s grasp.
“Spud!” Timmy cried, voice swallowed by the storm.
Spud vanished.
The forest fell still.
Timmy collapsed, grief crashing over him.
His brother’s name echoed in the silence—a fragile thread in the aftermath of magic.
And somewhere, beyond the veil, Spud fell into the unknown.
*
Soft light filtered through the high window, laying gold across the stone floor. Miluna’s voice—gentle, rhythmic—stirred Spud from a fog of half-dreams.
He blinked up at her, dazed. Beside him, Alexi shifted under the blanket, breath catching.
“How are you both feeling?” Miluna asked, eyes warm. Her presence was like cool water poured over a fevered brow.
Alexi gave a dry chuckle. “Not sure if I’m healing or just getting used to the pain.”
Spud winced, trying to sit up. “It feels better… but I’m scared to move. Like I’ll split open again.”
Miluna’s hands moved with practiced ease as she checked their bandages. “That’s normal,” she said softly. “You’ve been through a lot. But your bodies know how to heal. Just let rest do its work.”
Alexi exhaled, the tension easing from his shoulders. His fingers traced the edge of the blanket. “We’d be ghosts by now if not for you.”
Miluna smiled warmly. “Healing you isn’t a favor. It’s why I’m here. You’re stronger than you think.”
The light shifted. The door opened.
Micah entered, flanked by two guards standing like shadows. The room grew quiet with his presence—not from fear, but respect.
He paused briefly, then asked, his voice calm and steady, “How are they?”
Miluna stood and dipped her head. “Their wounds were serious, but they’re healing well. Time and care will finish the rest.”
Micah stepped closer, his gaze firm. “Few survive what you did. But you’re safe now—not just protected, but truly watched over.”
Spud and Alexi exchanged a look—relief and gratitude passing silently between them.
“Thank you, Lord Micah,” Spud said, voice thick with exhaustion and something deeper. “We owe you everything.”
Alexi shifted carefully but managed a tired smile. “I owe you my life.”
Micah nodded. “You owe me nothing. I won’t let more lives be wasted. Your courage brought you here. We only lit the path.”
He turned toward Miluna. “When they’re ready, I’d like to speak with both of them.”
Miluna nodded, still tending to their wounds. “I’ll finish soon. Their health is the priority.”
Micah’s face softened slightly. “Take the time you need.”
Spud flinched as Miluna adjusted a bandage, then breathed out slowly. Her hands did more than ease the pain—they reached inside him and calmed something raw.
Outside, firelight flickered softly across the cold stone walls. The storm had passed, leaving a fragile calm in its wake.
“All done, my lord,” Miluna said gently, stepping back.
Micah nodded his thanks. Then, turning to the boys, he asked, “Are you ready for some questions?”
Alexi straightened in bed, muscles taut beneath the bandages, but his voice was steady. “Yes, my lord.”
Micah offered a faint smile. “I won’t keep you long. You still need rest."23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4PTHHBF07r
and then Add to home screen.