It had been a day since the mage healed my arm. Fully recovered now, thankfully. I sat in the familiar quiet of my study room. Late morning sunlight spilled through the window, painting the pages of my open book in gold.
"So..." I hummed under my breath, "Pour mana, huh?"
Damian's words echoed in my mind.
He poured mana into my arm...?
I could still remember the feeling. That... tingling warmth, like sunlight beneath the skin. I knew that sensation. Maybe... just maybe, I could replicate it.
I stretched my arm forward and steadied my breath.
Then, as confidently as a four-year-old could, I raised my hand and began to recite:
"Oh verdant winds and whispers of the woods, heed my call and answer with growth, Verdant To—!"
BAM!
The door slammed open with a loud kick. I jolted so hard I nearly fell out of the chair, a bead of sweat trailing down my temple. Standing in the doorway was Lyra, arms crossed, face shadowed by the kind of simmering glare only a big sister can summon as her long sky-blue hair caught the light.
"Father's calling you downstairs," she snapped.
Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked off.
I let out a sigh, shoulders sagging. "Damn kid," I muttered.
The audacity, I thought. After nearly killing me, she struts around like I owe her something? Crazy.
Still muttering, I closed the book and slid it back onto the shelf, brushing the dust from my shirt as I headed downstairs. Waiting at the foot of the stairs was Father. His blue hair caught the light, and his rose-colored eyes. Those were calm, steady, always warm, and eventually, that gaze looked up at me.
"Want to come outside with Papa?" he asked. "I'll be buying some gear and tools for the new barn construction."
I froze mid-step.
Outside...?
Even after four years in this world, the thought of being among strangers still made my gut tighten. I remembered crowds. Airports. Cold sidewalks and passing cars. I remembered fear. Yesterday, when the mage healed my arm, I didn't even think about it. I'd been too focused, entranced by the idea of magic, of possibility. The excitement had drowned the fear.
But now, in the still air of home, the weight of going out there again returned. My lips parted to answer but before I could say a word, Lyra's voice cut through the air like a thrown dagger.
"Kyro's being a wuss," she said smugly. "I'll go with you instead!" She threw up her hand like she'd just volunteered for a quest.
Before either Father or I could say a word, the kitchen door banged open.
Reyna marched out, apron dusted with flour and a large ladle gripped tightly in one hand like a club.
"No you're not, young lady!" she barked.
Lyra flinched, taking an unconscious step back. I smirked, vindicated.
Then Father moved gently between them, placing a calming hand on Reyna's shoulder.
"It's okay, Rey," he said, voice low and soothing. "I can bring Lyra."
Reyna frowned, uncertainty clouding her sharp golden eyes. "But... Lyra's grounded. Aren't we supposed to be punishing her? She nearly got Kyro killed. What happens if she hurts him again while you're out?"
Thorskil chuckled, brushing a stray lock of blue hair behind his ear[1]. "She still isn't allowed to eat sweets, remember? Besides, they've got me. Nothing's gonna happen."
"I—" Reyna began, clearly wanting to protest more... but when her eyes met his. Those calm, rose-tinted eyes her resistance melted away.
"Fine," she said softly. "Just... be careful out there."
"I always am." He smiled, then leaned in and kissed her gently.
Both Lyra and I let out simultaneous groans.
"Ugh," Lyra muttered, recoiling. "Can you not?"
I winced, but for a different reason. My sister's disgust was rooted in typical sibling cringe, but for me... for me, it triggered something deeper. A cascade of old memories. The sterile loneliness of my past life. The weight of isolation. The kind of silence that love never touched.
And now, here I was. With parents who held each other without shame. Who loved openly, loudly, and genuinely.
My father and mother from my past life used to be like that..
I looked away, brushing invisible dust from my sleeve. "Let's just... go already."
***
We rode along the outer path of Ytval Village; the quiet little place we called home, tucked away near the kingdom's borders.
What was I thinking..? I thought bitterly, I could've just declined the trip, arghhh! Too late for that, I'm already out here..
I sat at the very front of the horse, feeling every shift of its weight beneath me. Behind me, Lyra rode at the rear, humming to herself, clearly delighted to be outside again. With every gentle step the horse took, her mood seemed to brighten even more.
"Thank you, Papa," she said, wrapping her arms tighter around Thorskil's waist.
He didn't respond with words, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It was quiet, subtle and genuine. As for me, I stayed silent, pulling the cloth tighter over my head and across my face, almost acting like a hood. One hand gripped the edge, making sure it stayed in place. I didn't want to be seen, not fully. I feared the stares, the whispers, the judgment in strangers' eyes. Even if no one was actually looking... the fear lingered.
What would they think of me?
What would they see? (Sigh) I wasn't ready to find out.
***
The soft clop of hooves echoed along the dirt path, mingling with birdsong and the rustling wind weaving through the tall trees. It should've been peaceful, and it was peaceful, on the surface. But something in the air tugged at Thorskil's senses. Something beneath the quiet. His nose twitched subtly. A sharp, bitter trace hung in the wind.. It was thin, but unmistakable.
Fear. Thorskil smelled fear. Not wild, primal fear. Not the kind stirred by beasts or distant danger, this was human.. His brow furrowed as he shifted his gaze forward, letting instinct guide him. Then he saw it.
Kyro.
The boy sat at the front of the saddle, posture rigid, hands clenched on reins he wasn't even holding correctly. A cloth wrapped tightly around his head and face, hiding everything but his wary eyes. He looked small. Smaller than usual. Like he was trying to vanish beneath the fabric.
"Kyro?" Thorskil's voice cut gently through the hush.
Kyro flinched. "Y-yeah?"
"Are you alright?" Thorskil asked, his tone even, carrying no judgment but only quiet concern. There was a slight pause. Kyro didn't turn around.
"I'm fine," he said too quickly. "It's just... it's sunny. And dusty. I didn't wanna sneeze or anything..."
Thorskil hummed low in his throat, neither affirming nor denying. He let the silence breathe, the horse's steady rhythm filling the space.
Then, softly: "You know... fear has a scent, Kyro. Stronger than dust. Even wilder than onions."
Kyro froze.
Thorskil leaned forward slightly, calm and unhurried, his voice seasoned with wisdom. "It's alright to be afraid. The world beyond familiar walls can feel enormous. It'll be loud. Too much, even. I've felt it too."
Kyro's grip slackened, if only a little.
"I used to freeze up just crossing city gates," Thorskil continued with a faint smile. "Didn't matter how tall I stood or how heavy the sword on my back was. Fear isn't impressed by strength. It just wants to turn you around."
He reached out, large, calloused fingers resting gently on Kyro's shoulder. "But you don't have to face it alone. You've got me. And you've got Lyra, even if she's a little chaos in a dress."
"I heard that!" came Lyra's chirp from behind, her voice indignant but edged with a giggle.
Kyro didn't respond. But he loosened the cloth just enough to catch a glimpse of the world. Fields of green wheat stretched from the path's edge, still unripened but waving proudly under the sun. A pair of farmers stood nearby, their chatter faint on the wind.
Thorskil raised a hand in greeting. "Good morning!"
"Good morning, Mr. Thorskil!" the farmer called back cheerfully.
Kyro watched the brief exchange, the warmth in the farmer's smile, the casual trust in his tone. That kind of welcome... it was foreign. But oddly comforting.
Then Lyra tilted her head. "Is Kyro afraid?" she asked innocently.
Before Thorskil could answer, she leaned out to peek at her brother. "Why are you so scared? There's literally nothing to be afraid of."
Kyro didn't answer. Not like she'd understand anyway.
"What a wuss," she muttered, arms crossing with a huff.
"Lyra," Thorskil said, his voice now gently firm, "don't treat your younger brother like that."
"But...."
"No buts." His tone didn't rise, but it didn't need to. "He's your brother. You're supposed to watch each other's backs, not poke holes in them."
Lyra shifted in the saddle, grumbling under her breath. "But Papa, he's weird! You and Mama always told me how much I cried when I was a baby! But Kyro? He never cried. He's always just... staring. Always quiet. Now he's acting in character again, he won't even talk."
She pointed at him, leaning forward.
"Lyra." Thorskil's voice turned sharper, no longer soft.
She pouted, muttering something incomprehensible.
Kyro didn't move. Didn't speak.
--Kyro--
I kept my head forward. The cloth still clung to my skin, damp from breath, warm against my cheeks, but it felt colder after what she said.
Weird... That word again...
I wasn't surprised she said it. Lyra always said things without thinking. But that didn't stop it from settling deep in my chest like a stone dropped in a quiet lake.
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was weird.
I remembered crying. Not as a baby. I didn't even know if I did. But I remembered the want to cry. So many nights, in my old life. In that gray room. Behind locked bathroom doors. Classrooms. Hallways full of people who didn't see me. Or worse, did.
Back then, I cried quietly too. I didn't want people looking at me. I didn't want their eyes. Their thoughts. Their judgment. They always had something to say, even when they said nothing at all.
I still remembered the reunion.
That one time my stepfather forced me to attend, just to get me out of the house for a few hours. "It'll be good for you," he said. It wasn't. Not for me. He's just pretending to care In front of mom. But I know he really dislikes me. Harsher when it's just us.
Everyone else from my old class had something. A glowing career, a happy family, kids with bright eyes and messy hair. Some had three children. Others four. Smiles all around, full of stories and pictures and laughter.
And me? What could I say?
Nothing. Absolutelynothing.
No wife. No kids. No job. Not even a dream left intact.
I told them (stammered, really) that I hadn't landed that chemistry job I used to talk about. The one I swore I'd chase. I remembered their silence. The way eyes drifted. How no one knew what to say next.
Or worse... they did.
I remembered their stares. Pity, confusion, a twinge of embarrassment; for me or themselves, I couldn't tell. In that room, surrounded by lives that kept moving forward, I felt like I'd stopped. Or maybe I'd never really started.
I felt like the weird one there. And now, here, another life, another name.. I thought I'd escaped that, but it followed me. Even in this new skin. My fingers curled tighter around the edge of the saddle. I didn't look back. I didn't want Lyra to see whatever was on my face. Whatever I couldn't hide fast enough.
'He's in character again..' I repeated her voice in my head.
What's that even supposed to mean? Was that what I was? A role to play? Maybe I was pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending I belonged. But I didn't feel brave. Or strong. Or like a kid with a future.
I felt like someone borrowed, something fragile tucked inside a body that wasn't mine, but then I felt it. Thorskil's hand, still resting on my shoulder.. It was warm. He didn't pull it away. He didn't speak, either, but that silence... it wasn't cold like the others.
It told me I didn't have to explain.
[End]
[1] Thorskil's hair is longer now.