The clang of hammer on steel was familiar now. Jake moved with practiced ease around the forge, holding tongs steady as James shaped the curved blade of a hook meant for a wagon yoke. The days had begun to fall into rhythm — work, eat, rest — but Jake knew it was only temporary.
There was more to find out there. More he needed to understand.
After the day's work was finished, James wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned back against the bench. He looked at Jake for a long moment.
"You're settling in well enough," he said.
Jake raised a brow. "But?"
James grunted. "But you didn't land here by chance. You've got the look of someone who's still hunting something, even if you're not ready to say it out loud."
Jake didn't reply.
James nodded as if that was answer enough. "There's a hunting party leaving in the morning. Few days into the wilds — tracking a wolfpack that's been getting too bold near the low farms. Might do you some good. See the land. Learn its teeth."
Jake hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I think I need that."
By dawn, Jake stood at the edge of the village, now wearing his better-fitting clothes and a proper travel pack slung over his shoulder. James had outfitted him with a short sword — old but solid — and a belt pouch filled with trail rations.
The hunting party was already assembling.
There were six others:
Garin, the grizzled leader, with a bow nearly as tall as he was and a stare like flint.
Lysa, a sharp-eyed scout who moved like wind through the trees.
Darik and Fen, twin brothers — axe-wielding, always arguing.
Thorne, the quiet tracker with a lean build and quiet presence.
And Mira — the one who caught Jake's attention most.
She wore layered leathers and carried a curved dagger on one hip and a satchel of glowing stones on the other. When she adjusted her gloves, faint lines of energy traced up her arms, like veins of light beneath the skin.
As they set off, Mira noticed Jake watching. She smiled faintly.
"You've never seen a channeler before?"
"Not like that," Jake admitted.
"You will," she said simply, and walked on.
The first two days passed in a steady rhythm. The mountains stretched wide and cold, but beautiful — glimmering streams, snow-dusted pine groves, and skies so clear it felt like the world had been scrubbed clean.
They hunted small game — snow hares, a mountain fox — and Jake earned nods of respect after landing a bowshot that cleanly brought down a swift, long-legged deer.
"You've got the eyes of a hunter," Garin said, watching Jake clean the kill. "Or someone who's trained like one."
Jake only replied, "My dad taught me."
That night, they made camp under a wide crescent moon. A fire crackled in the stone ring as Lysa and Thorne took first watch.
Jake sat near Mira as she spread out small polished stones around her — red, green, blue, and white — each pulsing gently with their own hue.
He hesitated, then asked, "How does it work? The magic?"
Mira raised an eyebrow. "Curious now, are we?"
Jake smiled faintly. "Wouldn't you be?"
She picked up the red stone and passed it across her knuckles. "These are anchors. They help us hold the energy, channel it safely. Most people can't draw directly from the Veil — it burns too hot. So we use these."
"Can anyone learn?"
Mira gave a slow nod. "Some more than others. You need awareness. Discipline. And a mind that won't shatter when you open the door too wide."
Jake stared at the stones. "Could you teach me?"
"Maybe. But not out here." She looked at him with a strange glint in her eye. "Magic isn't just power. It's memory. You need roots before you grow branches."
Jake nodded, quietly filing the information away.
On the fourth day, they found tracks.
Huge ones.
Clawed.
Twice as wide as a bear's.
Garin crouched near the frozen mud and scowled. "Frostmaw."
The name settled over the group like a shadow. Thorne muttered a curse. Fen looked far too excited.
Jake stared at the print. "Big bear?"
"Big problem," Lysa said. "Thick hide. Smart. And it hunts for sport."
They followed the trail with caution, circling wide along a ravine edge. That night, no one slept deeply.
The Frostmaw came just before dawn.
Jake was on second watch, staring into the trees, when he heard the branch snap.
It erupted from the dark like a living avalanche — taller than any bear Jake had ever seen, covered in thick pale fur and jagged, ice-crusted spines along its back. Its breath steamed in the air like smoke, and its eyes glowed like coals.
"TO ARMS!" Garin shouted, just as the creature charged.
Chaos exploded.
Jake rolled to the side, drawing his blade. Thorne dove for his bow. The twins charged head-on, yelling like lunatics.
Mira raised her hands, glowing stones already orbiting her wrists. "Hold it still!"
Jake moved without thinking. As Fen distracted the beast, Jake sprinted behind, slicing at its hamstring. The blade bit deep — not enough to fell it, but enough to stagger.
The Frostmaw roared and turned — just as Mira sent a blast of searing fire into its chest.
Jake leapt back as it swiped, catching the edge of his cloak and sending him sprawling.
Lysa's arrows flew, one embedding deep in its throat.
Then Garin stepped forward with a two-handed swing, driving his axe into the creature's skull.
Silence fell.
The Frostmaw collapsed with a final groan, steam hissing from its wounds.
Jake lay on the ground, panting, heart hammering.
Mira walked over and offered her hand. "Not bad, stranger."
He took it, wincing as she helped him up. "I thought it was going to rip me in half."
"It still might," she said. "But you didn't freeze. That counts for something."
As the group tended their wounds and began cutting what they could use from the beast — fur, teeth, bone — Jake sat beside the fire and stared into the flames.
He was changing.
This world — its dangers, its people — was starting to shape him.
And he wasn't sure if that was a good thing… or a necessary one.