4 - Between Memory and Dream

Sword felt heavier than it should, leather-wrapped hilt warm under fingers like it tried to calm me. Loth's words echoed: 'Keep that blade close.' A bitter laugh escaped me as I walked, fingers brushing the hilt. It wasn't just a weapon. It was choice itself, the only choice left after failing to awaken magic, after lacking the one thing every living soul possessed. Essence. Sometimes I wondered if the villagers' beliefs held truth.

The village square spread before me, small and mud-slicked from recent rain. A well sat in the center where two roads crossed. Empty wooden stalls stood waiting for market day. The air carried bread scent from nearby bakery, mixing with fruit smells and dung from hitched mules. Common enough aromas, but the strange weather took its toll on harvest. Rain ruined crops, forcing farmers to gather what they could before all rotted in the fields.

Dreams flashed again through my mind. War-torn lands soaked in blood, skies stained red as wounds. And her, always her. Golden hair and sky-bright eyes, fighting beside me. Our swords moved in harmony, cutting through enemies like dancers through chaos. Her presence calmed me even in a nightmare. I could still feel metal's clash, her weight beside me, her voice echoing in memory's depths.

My grip tightened on the hilt, warmth grounding me to the present moment. I couldn't lose myself in those visions. Ahead stood the alchemist's shop, a small wooden building on the left edge of the village. Weathered walls wore creeping ivy like grasping fingers climbing toward the roof.

A sign hung above the door showing a spoon in a cauldron. Below it, letters spelled 'Eliza's Potions and Elixirs.' The sign swayed in the wind, creaking with each movement.

I hesitated at the threshold, feeling the weight of past conversations settle on my shoulders like a cloak made of lead. Entering this shop had once felt natural as breathing. Now, with Valeria filling every corner of my thoughts, guilt hung over me thick as storm clouds. Speaking with other women felt like betrayal of someone I'd never met but somehow loved deeper than my own soul.

I pushed open the door, cold handle chilling my palm. Dried herbs and old wood hit me with a familiar scent. The dim interior held earthy ingredient smells thick as porridge. Herb bundles hung from ceiling beams. Shelves lined walls, packed with jars of strange powders, vials of colored liquids, potions in every shape. Faint humming came from the back room, barely audible over swaying herbs above.

"Eliza?" My voice came rougher than intended.

Soft shuffling answered from behind, then she appeared, wiping hands on her apron. Brown hair pulled back in loose braid, strands framing her face. Hazel eyes brightened when they met mine. Warmth lived in that gaze, making me feel at ease despite everything. If not for Valeria, I might have taken that slim waist, pulled her close, spoken love words. But that was before. Now such feelings had melted like early spring snow.

"Einar." She greeted me with a soft smile, voice carrying gentle cheer she always had. "It's been long."

I forced a stiff smile. "I’ve been busy."

"Busy with what?" she teased, raising eyebrow as she wiped hands again. "Chopping wood, I'd guess." Playfulness tried to ease tension between us. "Maybe running off to imaginary lands again. What was it called? Awadhar?"

"Something like that," I muttered, glancing at shelves. I didn't want to linger here any longer than necessary. Didn't want to see the hope that still lived behind her eyes.. "I need healing potion. Alira and I are heading to the lake."

Her expression softened. She turned to shelves, movements fluid and practiced as she scanned rows of vials. "You finally decided to take her there?" She pulled a small bottle from the shelf, holding it to light. The liquid inside shimmered deep crimson, like dried blood I couldn't escape in dreams. “She's a force of nature.”

Fondness colored her voice, the kind of affection that came from watching a child grow from toddler to young woman. Eliza had been part of our strange family's life almost since the day she'd arrived in the village, sixteen and orphaned and desperate for somewhere to belong.

"Awakening her magic without formal guidance from the schools?" Eliza turned the vial in her hand. "That's impressive. I've never seen anything like it, not even in cities."

"You're a prodigy yourself. The only sorceress in the village."

"Your mother's here too. Don't forget my sweet aunt."

Eliza was another sorceress, but not as powerful as Mother. Relatively young and never formally trained. She'd learned from parents while they lived in Thresha, capital city of the Northern Seat. After their deaths during a ranger expedition, she'd fled to these remote lands with nothing but the clothes on her back and a head full of alchemy formulas.

Now twenty winters old, she could be called the most naturally talented alchemist. Old enough for marriage and children, yet still unwed despite half the unmarried men in the village making eyes at her. Only I knew why she'd turned them all away.

"In my defense, we live outside the village proper."

"Your mother's remarkable. She even taught me fire spells, though they're not always stable without a proper wand."

"She is. Taught Alira from her earliest years too. While other children played tag, my sister had already found adventures in books and tales."

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"Alira's different from others. It's rare to see magic, but someone like her is rarer still. Who is magic itself? That's true prodigy."

"Yes, she's different," I muttered barely above whisper. "Always has been."

My fingers brushed hers as I reached for the potion. For a moment, warmth bloomed where hands met. Something pulled, like the world tried to draw us closer. But I jerked back quickly, tightening grip around glass vial. I couldn't walk that path. Couldn't hurt her. She wasn't just friend anymore. She'd become family.

Her hazel eyes lingered, soft but searching, like she tried seeing past walls I'd built for her protection. "She's fortunate to have a brother like you, Einar." Quiet words filled with warmth that tightened something in my chest. "Providing everything she needs to become a proper sorceress. Caring for your family since you were barely eleven years old..."

I looked away, letting my gaze drift to the bundles of herbs swaying overhead. Anything to avoid seeing the tenderness in her expression, the unguarded affection that made my chest ache with possibilities I'd already murdered. "I've done what any son would do for his mother, any brother for his little sister."

The words tasted heavy and bitter, like ashes from a fire that had burned too long. Every time I thought of Alira's potential, her bright future filled with magic and wonder, envy crept through my veins like poison despite how much I loved her. She had everything I'd been denied by whatever curse plagued my fate.

Eliza broke the growing silence with another soft smile, though something unspoken continued to linger in the space between us like morning mist. "Not everyone would do the same, Einar. In a world where family burdens are often better left behind, men like you are rarer than honest merchants."

She paused, holding out her palm in the universal gesture of commerce. "Three copper pieces."

I fumbled with my belt pouch, pulling out small square coppers and placing them in her waiting hand. She took them with quiet grace, movements careful and practiced. But tension lived there too, words hanging unspoken in air between us.

"Thanks," I muttered, slipping potion into left side of waist bag. "For the potion... and the talk."

"Anytime for you," she said softly. Her eyes held mine longer than they should, searching for something, though words she wanted never came. "Be careful..." She hesitated, then gave a smaller smile before looking away.

I nodded and turned toward the door, feeling her gaze on my back as I pulled it open and stepped into cold, overcast morning.

Wind hit like a slap, sharp and biting, tugging at hair as it carried rain scent. I stood there letting cold settle into skin, but it did little to clear my mind. The golden-haired woman from dreams lingered like echo I couldn't shake, presence that stayed no matter how hard I tried forgetting. Every time I thought myself free, she returned like memory refusing to fade.

With long breath, I adjusted the sword at my side and started walking. Each step took me further from village chatter, deeper into the forest where my little vixen waited in our cabin.

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Weathered wood blended seamlessly with the surrounding forest as the cabin came into view, as if it had always been part of the landscape. Smoke curled lazily from the stone chimney, carrying the scent of burning pine, sharp and earthy. Dense woods pressed in on all sides, the trees standing tall and unyielding, but the space in front of the cabin had been cleared, leaving enough room for the woodcutting block and the neat pile of logs stacked beside it.

Before I could reach the door, it creaked open, and Alira burst out like a shot of energy, her red hair catching the light, glowing like fire. She was always like this—a force of nature. All energy, all impatience. Her grin was wide, full of life, contrasting sharply with the heaviness that had been pressing down on me since morning.

“Took you long enough!” she called, bouncing on her toes, restless as ever. “You’re slower than a turtle.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, despite myself. “Had to make sure the sword was worth the wait. Loth didn’t disappoint.” I reached out, ruffling her hair, but she ducked under my hand, swatting me away with a laugh that echoed in the quiet clearing.

Her eyes darted to the sword strapped at my side, her curiosity plain on her face. “Let me see it!” she demanded, her voice buzzing with excitement.

I sighed, unbuckling the sheath, and drew the blade. The steel caught the afternoon light, gleaming brightly, flawless. I could see the reflection of the sky on its polished surface. Her breath hitched for a moment as she stared, eyes wide.

“Careful,” I warned, my voice steady, but firm. “It’s not a toy.”

“Just like pa’s,” she whispered, her gaze never leaving the blade, her fingers caressing over the dragon's head. “One day, I’ll carry its twin.” There was that determination in her voice again, the same fierce tone she always had when she talked about her magic.

With a practiced motion, I slid the sword back into its sheath. “A sword, huh? You planning on being a warrior and a sorceress now?” I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wouldn’t a wand suit you better? You know, for spells.”

"Ma once told me, 'Wands are just a medium for magic, a safety measure. True magic comes from within the sorcerer,'" she said thoughtfully, her eyes lighting up with realization. "That means I could channel magic through a sword instead... maybe a bow, like those elven women from the storybooks?”

I let out a dry laugh, arching an eyebrow at her eagerness. "Right, perhaps we should forget our venture entirely and craft you a bow instead, little archer." The sarcasm dripped heavily from my words, though I couldn't quite hide the hint of amusement in my voice.

She pouted, crossing her arms, but the expression didn’t last. A grin quickly broke through, playful and bright. "Mock me all you wish, but you promised. Daily training until my magic wakes, no excuses."

“So I did.” I nodded with a smile, though my attention shifted to the cabin window where our mother stood watching us. Her face was shadowed with concern. The quiet kind. She raised her hand in a small wave, but I could see the weight she carried behind her eyes.

“We’ll be back by sunset, mother,” I called out, my voice louder than it needed to be. Maybe I was trying to reassure her, or maybe I was trying to reassure myself. Either way, it hurts seeing her like that. The once bright, cheerful spirit of our mother now smothered beneath something she wouldn’t share. I could feel it, like there was a storm raging inside her, locked away from us.

Alira grabbed my arm, tugging me forward, and we started down the familiar path into the woods. Her excitement was practically spilling over, her steps quick, eager. She hummed to herself, a tune I didn’t recognize, but the sound was light and carefree, infectious. It made the heaviness in my chest lift, if only a little.