The heavy scent of herbs filled Kaen's nose before he even opened his eyes. A blanket lay over his chest, thick and woolen, and something stung along his ribs—tightly wrapped bandages soaked in some burning salve.
He opened his eyes to a wooden ceiling. Dim morning light poured in through the window. The soft caw of crows echoed from outside.
For a second, he panicked. Had he failed? Was he back again—again?
"Easy," said a voice. His mother.
She sat beside him, her face lined with worry. A half-sliced carrot lay in a bowl on the table. Her eyes were puffy but alert.
"You've been unconscious since last night," she said softly. "Bled through the first bandage. Scared me half to death."
Kaen blinked away the fog. "The bandits…?"
"Driven off. Some killed by the guards. They say it was you who held them off long enough."
Kaen sat up slowly. His ribs screamed in protest. He winced.
"Don't move too quickly," his mother warned. "You're bruised all over."
"I'm fine," he muttered, despite the pain. "Just sore."
But inside, he felt something else: triumph.
He had changed the timeline. Just a little. But it had rippled.
The village lived. His mother lived.
"I told the elders you warned us," she said. "They're… confused. Curious."
She reached over to a side table and picked up a folded scroll sealed in crimson wax. The sigil of the Southern Blade Academy was pressed deep into it.
"This came at dawn," she said. "Delivered by a rider. From the capital."
Kaen's hand trembled slightly as he took it. The seal was unmistakable—a burning blade encircled by seven stars.
In the old world, he had spent years wandering as a mercenary before ever seeing the gates of the Swordspire. To be invited… directly?
He broke the seal.
Kaen Ardyn of Aeron,
You are summoned to the Southern Blade Academy for evaluation in the Crimson Trials.
Arrive within ten days. Come willing. Come ready.
—Nyra, Steel Fang
His hands gripped the parchment tighter. This was no mistake. Someone had seen him fight. Someone had taken note.
His chance had come early. Much earlier than it ever had before.
He looked up to see his mother watching him.
"You're going?" she asked.
He nodded. "I have to."
She took a shaky breath. "Then take this."
From a small pouch tied at her waist, she drew a small silver talisman—a tiny fox with wings carved into its back. A charm his father had worn once, in his traveling days.
"For protection," she said, tying it around his wrist.
He held it for a long moment.
"I'll return," Kaen said.
"I know."
That night, he packed under moonlight. Not much—rations, a travel cloak, Ironfang, and a few coins from a family jar.
He stood at the edge of the village at dawn. His mother stood behind him, silent but proud.
He turned once.
"Tell them I'll make us more than a name," he said.
And then he walked into the mists, toward the path of blood, blades, and fate.