Chapter 8

  The Calm Before the Hunt

  As we walked along the main road, Veldrin scoffed, practically spitting his words. “Ugh. I suppose I'll see if that backwater shop has acquired any worthwhile arcane materials.” He shook his head dismissively. “Doubtful. I’ll catch up with you both later at the Frog Leg.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he spun on his heel and stalked off, robes billowing dramatically behind him.

  Bromm raised an eyebrow as he watched Veldrin go. Then he turned to me, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Well, how ‘bout we check the bounty board? You’re gonna need practice with that axe and shield if you plan on standing on your own two feet around here.”

  Bob trotted alongside us, his heavy steps rhythmic against the packed dirt road.

  When we reached the bounty board, I leaned forward, scanning the notices pinned to the weathered wood. Several postings detailed recent gnoll raids on local farmsteads. Troubling, I thought—and likely dangerous.

  Bromm narrowed his eyes at the board. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll head out early and clear some of these gnoll bounties. It’ll be good trainin’ for ya.”

  I swallowed hard. Gnoll hunting. A nervous thrill twisted through my chest. It wasn’t just the danger—I’d known fighting was inevitable—but the reality of tracking down, confronting, and killing something flooded me with anxious energy. This wasn’t stumbling blindly through an unfamiliar world, barely surviving. Now I would deliberately take up arms and face danger head-on.

  A firm clap on my shoulder jolted me from my thoughts. “Don’t worry, lad,” Bromm chuckled. “Gnolls ain’t too bright. Nasty, aye, but predictable. We’ll take it slow tomorrow.”

  I exhaled and forced a grin. “Yeah. Just… hunting gnolls. No big deal.”

  Bromm laughed again. “That’s the spirit.”

  We turned from the bounty board and headed toward the Frog Leg Inn. With my nerves steadied, I finally took notice of Mosswood Hollow’s layout. Beyond the village center, small homesteads and farmhouses dotted the outskirts. Gardens flourished alongside quaint cottages, some meticulously neat, others wild and overgrown. Even in this quiet village, people carved out their own spaces, each living off the land in their own way.

  When we reached the inn, lanterns flickered warmly from the windows, their golden glow illuminating the weathered sign above the door. Inside, muffled voices and clinking mugs hinted that the village’s residents had already settled in for the night.

  Elunara was easy to spot. Bromm approached her, exchanging murmured words and animated gestures. After a brief negotiation, accompanied by Elunara’s thoughtful nodding, a deal was struck: lodging for a few days in exchange for surplus bread made from our foraged ingredients.

  With arrangements settled, Bromm and I moved to a quieter table near the hearth. Moments later, the front door opened, and Veldrin stormed in, an irritated scowl darkening his features.

  Elunara glanced up sharply, eyes narrowing slightly, lips pressed in a thin line. Not angry exactly, but clearly not pleased. Veldrin dropped heavily into the chair opposite Bromm and me, sighing dramatically. “Ugh. I'm already sick of this wretched village. Not a single worthwhile reagent to be found.”

  Elunara approached, arms folded as she fixed Veldrin with a pointed stare. “Not even a hello, after all this time?”

  Surprise briefly flickered across his face. “Ah, Elunara,” he recovered quickly. “My apologies—I’ve been terribly busy. You know how easily I lose myself in my work.”

  Her expression softened, and a warm smile broke through. She stepped forward, wrapping him in a heartfelt embrace. When they parted, she looked fondly between Bromm and Veldrin.

  “It’s like the good old days,” she said softly, eyes brightening.

  This was a story I definitely wanted to hear.

  Elunara quickly returned with four frothy tankards, placing them on the table. “You all know each other?” I asked.

  “Aye,” Bromm said warmly. “We traveled together in the same party for quite a while.”

  “Party?” I echoed.

  “A guild,” Bromm explained. “A group of adventurers stickin' together—taking quests, accepting contracts, exploring uncharted territory, clearin' dungeons. Most guilds specialize—miners, alchemists, merchants, even bounty hunters. But ours?” He smiled broadly. “Ours was pure adventurin’. We called ourselves Starward, always chasing the horizon and whatever lay beyond.”

  Veldrin and Elunara chuckled knowingly. “In case it wasn’t obvious,” Elunara said lightly, nudging Veldrin, “Bromm was our resident recruiter.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Their laughter was contagious. I smiled too, recognizing a familiar feeling. My adventures had been through screens, not across real terrain, but the excitement, camaraderie, and sense of discovery translated perfectly.

  “It sounds like you all had some great times,” I said.

  Bromm’s smile faded slightly, eyes dimming. “Aye, we did.” He hesitated. “Robert was part of our group, too.”

  I caught the change in his expression. “What happened to him?”

  Bromm stared silently into the fire for a long moment. “That’s a story for another day, lad.”

  I wanted to ask more, but the weight in his voice stopped me.

  “Get some rest,” he said, standing and stretching. “We’ve got gnolls to hunt in the mornin’.”

  “Well, that’s one way to start a day,” I muttered, half-smiling.

  “Aye, welcome to the Hollow,” Bromm chuckled, clapping my shoulder again.

  After saying our goodnights, I headed up to my room. Tomorrow was a test—my first chance to prove myself in this new world.

  As sleep finally began to pull me under—

  Pop.

  A wet, sucking noise jolted me awake, followed by the unmistakable voice of a familiar imp. “What’s up, sweet-cheeks?”

  “Whoa—how did you get here?!” I bolted upright, heart racing.

  The imp floated lazily, grinning wickedly. “Oh, you know. Magic.” He settled comfortably at the foot of my bed, head tilted curiously. “But tell me, how exactly are you understanding me?”

  “What?” I frowned.

  “Peculiar, peculiar,” it mused, tapping a clawed finger against its temple. “You shouldn’t speak my language, meatbag. Demonic isn’t exactly common around these parts. Yet here we are, having ourselves a lovely chat.”

  A cold weight settled in my gut. “So… I shouldn’t understand you?”

  The imp’s grin widened. “Exactly! Which means you’re special.” It practically purred the word. “Tell me, Summoned One—what else can you do?”

  “Nothing,” I admitted. “Aside from understanding you, I’m not exactly impressive.”

  The imp snorted. “You read the scroll, didn’t you? That’s demonic script. You’re definitely special.” It leaned closer, eyes glittering. “Do me a favor, kid—try not to die tomorrow.” With a flick of its tail, it popped out of sight.

  I rolled onto my side, shutting my eyes. Then onto my back. Then my other side. No matter how hard I tried, sleep wouldn’t come. The imp’s words gnawed at me. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it. Like he was genuinely interested in me. And that… that was unsettling. With a sigh, I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. Maybe some fresh air would clear my head.

  The village was dead quiet as I stepped outside, the only sound was my boots crunching against the dirt path. If I had to guess by the moon—bright and full, almost glowing like a lantern—it had to be close to midnight. I didn’t wander far. As much as I wanted space, I wasn’t about to ignore every warning I’d been given. Just far enough to be out of sight. No sense in looking like a complete jackass if someone caught me doing what I was about to do.

  I gripped my axe and swung. Then again. And again. My muscles burned, my arm aching, but I kept at it, trying to build some kind of rhythm. After what felt like an eternity, I paused, shaking out my arm. Then, a thought struck me. I exhaled slowly, stretching out the tension.. I hadn’t just watched Veldrin cast his spell—I had studied him, even if only for a brief moment. The way his fingers curled, the way his stance shifted like he was bracing for something unseen. It hadn’t looked effortless. It had looked deliberate. Intentional.

  I flexed my fingers, hesitating. Magic was real here. I had seen it. Felt it. Even the imp had practically spelled out that I was different. But that was ridiculous, right? Still… Slowly, I raised my hand, mirroring what I remembered of Veldrin’s posture. My fingers felt clumsy, unsure. I repositioned them, then again, trying to make sense of a shape that had never existed in my world. I closed my eyes and focused. At first, nothing happened. Just the steady hum of night, the distant rustling of leaves. I tried to feel something, anything, but it was like reaching for air. A fool standing in the dark, pretending to grasp at shadows. But then, something shifted—a ripple in the air, a subtle but undeniable pressure against my palm. My fingers twitched, and the sensation grew stronger. Weight. Something was there. Something I could grasp.

  What the hell?

  The pressure deepened, dense but shifting, like trying to hold onto water that refused to slip away. It coiled against my skin, unseen but real. My breath caught. And then—It snapped. The weight vanished in an instant, like a rope yanked from my grip. A sharp crack split the air, followed by a rush of wind—brief but forceful enough to send dust and leaves skittering around me. I flinched, staring at my empty palm. Nothing. No glow, no heat, no trace of whatever the hell that was. I kept trying, but the same thing happened. Every failure drained me. I could feel it—my body growing weaker, exhaustion creeping in. And yet, I kept pushing, kept reaching for something just out of grasp. Each attempt stacked upon the last, wearing me down. I shouldn’t be doing this. Not out here. Not alone. But this… was this magic? Everything Veldrin said went against it. I shouldn’t be able to interact with mana. But I was. I wasn’t wielding it, not really—but I felt it. It was there. It was real. I don’t know how long I stood there—testing, failing, pushing myself past the point of reason. Each attempt left me weaker, my limbs heavy, my mind fogged with fatigue. But no matter how many times I tried, the result was the same. The energy was there—just out of reach, slipping through my fingers like water.

  Eventually, exhaustion won out. With a heavy sigh, I turned back toward the village, my legs dragging with every step. The night was still and silent, save for the distant chirp of insects. If I had to guess, dawn wasn’t far off. I needed rest. As I walked to the inn, my mind kept circling back to what had just happened. Over and over, I replayed every moment, every flicker of sensation. I had felt something—I knew it. It wasn’t just my imagination. And if that was true, then everything Veldrin had said about me being unable to use magic… might not be entirely right. One thing was certain—I needed to tell him. He was a powerful mage, highly regarded. If anyone could make sense of this, it was him.

  The remainder of my night was uneventful. No more imps appearing out of thin air, no strange sensations lingering in my palm—just me and my thoughts.

  Back in my room at the inn, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dim glow of the dying embers in the hearth. Despite the exhaustion weighing me down, my mind refused to quiet. I kept re-running the night’s events over and over, trying to make sense of it all. The imp’s cryptic words, the weight I had felt in my hand, the rush of wind as it snapped away—it wasn’t just a trick of my mind.

  Magic. It had to be magic!

  I wasn’t supposed to be able to use it. Veldrin had made that clear. And yet… something had been there. I had felt it. That changed everything.

  I exhaled, rubbing my temples. Sleep wasn’t coming anytime soon, but lying awake obsessing over it wasn’t going to help either. With a sigh, I pulled the blanket over myself and forced my eyes shut.

  Tomorrow, I’d get answers. One way or another.