By mid-morning, the strange energy buzzing under Kael's skin had settled into a low, constant hum. It wasn't painful, but it was loud. It drowned out his conscience.
He was working in the timber yard again, assigned to split logs for the upcoming winter stockpile. Usually, this was backbreaking work. The oak was knotted and stubborn.
Kael set a massive round of oak on the block. He raised his splitting maul.
Weak, a voice whispered.
Kael frowned. He looked around. The yard was empty save for a few other laborers working fifty yards away. He shook his head and swung.
The maul didn't just split the wood; it obliterated it. The iron head struck with such velocity that the log exploded, sending two perfect halves flying ten feet in opposite directions. The maul head buried itself deep into the chopping block, burying the handle up to the halfway mark.
Kael stared at the axe. He hadn't exerted himself. He hadn't even grunted. It had felt like cutting water.
"Easy there, Kael," a voice called out.
It was Jonas, an older laborer with a bad back. Jonas was staring at him, his eyes wide. "You trying to kill the block, son? I've never seen a man swing like that. Not even Goran."
"Just... working out some frustration," Kael said, wrestling the axe free. It came loose with a screech of protesting wood.
He looked up and saw Lysa, Master Gorm's wife, walking along the perimeter fence. She was carrying a basket of linens, her head down, trying to be invisible.
Usually, Kael would look away. He respected her fear; he knew Gorm's temper. He played the game of subtlety.
But today, the hum under his skin spiked.
Kael didn't look away. He lowered the axe and turned his body fully toward her. He stared. He didn't smile; he didn't wink. He simply fixed her with a gaze of absolute, unblinking intensity. He watched the way her dress moved around her ankles. He watched the pulse in her neck.
Lysa felt the weight of the look. She glanced up, startled. When she locked eyes with Kael, she stopped walking. She should have been afraid—it was an improper look, a dangerous look. But she didn't move. Her breath hitched. She felt pinned, like a butterfly on a board.
For ten seconds, the world narrowed to the predator and the prey.
Then, Jonas coughed. "Kael? You alright? You look like you're in a fucking trance."
Kael blinked. The hum receded slightly. The predatory sharpness softened back into human annoyance. "I'm fine," he snapped. He turned back to the wood, raising the axe.
But his hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from a surplus of adrenaline. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to break something. The wood wasn't enough.