What in the World Just Happened?

The air was crisp and filled with the gentle rustle of leaves as a man crouched behind a boulder at the side of the road, his dirty hands clutching a rusted dagger. His eyes were fixed on the approaching family—a man, a woman, and a young boy, their cart creaking with the weight of vegetables and simple tools. They looked tired and vulnerable, exactly the kind of prey he preferred. The bandit stepped out from his hiding spot, his voice rough and laced with menace. "Stop right there. Drop your goods and hand over your coin, or this gets messy." He brandished the dagger, its edge jagged and dull, but still capable of delivering death. The family froze, the father shielding his wife and son as the mother clutched the boy's shoulder protectively. "Please," the father stammered, his voice trembling. "We have so little—we're just farmers." The bandit sneered, taking a step closer. "I don't care if you're kings or beggars. If you want to walk away with your lives, you'll do as I say. Or maybe I'll start with the boy." He gestured toward the child with the blade, and the boy whimpered, hiding his face against his mother's side.

But before the bandit could take another step, a sharp metallic sound filled the air, a faint whizzing that grew louder in an instant. His sneer faded, replaced by a look of confusion as something small and fast struck him square in the temple. The coin passed through his skull as if it were paper, leaving a perfectly round hole in its wake. The bandit's body crumpled to the ground in eerie silence, the dagger slipping from his limp hand. Blood pooled around him, glinting darkly in the fading sunlight. The family stood rooted to the spot, their breaths shallow and their eyes wide with disbelief. The father took a hesitant step forward, peering at the lifeless figure. "What… what just happened?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

The mother clutched the boy tighter, her gaze darting up and down the road as if searching for some invisible savior. The boy, though pale and shaking, managed to take a peek at the fallen bandit. "A coin?" he asked, his voice filled with wonder and confusion. There, embedded in the dirt several feet away, was a single steel coin, gleaming faintly in the fading light. It was unnaturally clean, untouched by the blood that marred the scene. The family exchanged stunned glances, the enormity of what had happened beginning to sink in. The father crouched cautiously, trying to pick up the coin, but was unable to because it seems to be stuck to the ground. That was, until it suddenly zipped up in the air toward a dark figure in the sky… which, strangely, looked like a man….

From Kael's perspective, the journey to Markarth continued in relative peace. He pushed off one steel coin after another, soaring over the uneven terrain with a practiced rhythm. As he burned steel, the blue lines connecting him to nearby metals hummed faintly at the edges of his awareness. He reached out to one coin he'd placed behind him moments earlier, frowning slightly as it lagged, resisting his pull for a split second before snapping forward. Kael shrugged it off, assuming it had simply lodged in some loose soil. It wasn't the first time a coin had faltered on its return, and it likely wouldn't be the last. The incident barely registered in his mind as he continued his journey, focused on the looming mountains that he would soon have to climb.

Had Kael paused for even a moment to consider the coin's path, he might have turned back to see the stunned family and the lifeless body of a would-be robber on the road.