Chapter 10: A Brush with Danger

The sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon by the time Sylvie caught sight of her brother near the bakery. He was leaning against a wooden post, stuffing his face with what looked like a honeyed pastry, his other hand resting lazily on his hip. When he saw her approach, he swallowed his bite and raised an eyebrow.

"Where have you been?" he asked. His voice carried the lazy drawl of someone who wasn't quite mad but was definitely suspicious. "You said you were just gonna look around."

"I was," Sylvie said quickly, adjusting her expression to look as casual as possible. "I just… got caught up exploring."

Sylas gave her a long, measuring stare. "Exploring what, exactly?"

Sylvie hesitated. She wasn't about to tell him about Mystiron Alley, the strange artifacts, or the man who claimed he saw mana in her. Instead, she settled on a half-truth.

"I found a salvage cart," she said, pulling the rusted gear from her pocket and holding it up. "Got this for free."

Sylas frowned at the object before looking back at her. "You wasted all that time over a hunk of rust?"

Sylvie huffed. "It's not junk if it can be fixed."

Sylas rolled his eyes but didn't press further. Instead, he turned, motioning toward the road. "Come on. Mom's already waiting."

Relieved that she had dodged further questioning, Sylvie followed after him.

They reached their mother near the town's main gate, where she was finishing a conversation with another woman. A woven basket filled with supplies rested in the crook of her arm. When she saw them approach, she gave a small sigh of relief.

"There you are. I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"I kept an eye on her," Sylas said, though from the crumbs on his tunic, it was clear he'd spent most of the time eating.

Their mother gave them both a scrutinizing look but decided not to comment. "Alright. We should head home before it gets too late."

With that, the three of them set off down the winding dirt road leading out of Ardent Vale.

The air was crisp, the sound of rustling leaves filling the silence between them. At first, the walk home was peaceful. Sylvie rolled the rusted gear between her fingers, her thoughts drifting back to Mystiron Alley, to the strange and rare artifacts, to the even stranger boy she met.

Her thoughts were interrupted when her mother abruptly stopped walking.

Sylvie nearly bumped into her back. "Huh? What—?"

Her mother held up a hand, signaling for silence.

Sylvie felt it then.

The air had changed.

A quiet, uneasy tension settled over them, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Sylas, sensing the shift, subtly reached for the small knife at his belt.

Then Sylvie saw them.

Two figures standing in the middle of the road, blocking their path.

The men looked like they had been waiting. They were rough-looking, dressed in patched-together cloaks and worn boots. Their faces were shadowed beneath hoods, but Sylvie caught the unmistakable glint of steel at their belts.

Bandits.

Her mother's voice was calm but firm. "Stay close to me."

Sylvie's stomach twisted into knots. They were in a precarious situation. Worse—there was no one else around. No guards, no passing travelers.

Just them.

One of the men stepped forward, grinning with a mouth full of crooked teeth. "Now, now. What do we have here? A mother and her little ones, all alone on the road?"

Sylvie's mother didn't flinch. "We have nothing worth taking."

The man chuckled, glancing at the basket in her arms. "Now that ain't true. I see food. Supplies. Things we could use."

Sylas tensed beside her. She could feel his muscles coil, like a wound spring ready to snap.

Sylvie's mind raced. Could they run? No—they'd never outrun them. These men were faster, stronger. If they tried to flee, they'd be caught before they took five steps.

They needed another way.

Sylvie's eyes flicked past the bandits, scanning the terrain. The dirt road cut through a stretch of woodland, but about fifteen paces back—near the edge of the path—was a rickety wooden fence marking a sharp drop-off. The fence posts were old, rotting.

And weak.

An idea sparked.

She reached into her pocket, fingers wrapping around the rusted gear. Her mind focused, instinct kicking in—her blessing activated.

A pulse of knowledge spread through her fingertips.

[Tinkerer's Blessing] let her understand how things worked—and how they could break.

That fence…

It would collapse with the right amount of weight.

Sylvie took a careful step back, her heart pounding.

"Sylas," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the men. "When I say run, run backward."

He gave her a confused glance but nodded.

The bandit leader took another step forward, his smirk widening.

"No need to make this difficult—"

"Now!" Sylvie shouted.

In one motion, she yanked Sylas back and hurled the rusted gear with all her strength at the weakest point in the fence.

The impact sent a sharp crack echoing through the air.

The brittle wood snapped.

The bandits, startled by the sudden sound, lunged forward—just as the fence collapsed beneath them.

For a single, heart-pounding moment, there was chaos.

The men tried to stop themselves, but momentum betrayed them. The lead bandit's foot caught the edge of the broken wood—he lost his balance.

Then he was falling.

The second bandit's eyes widened as his companion vanished from sight. He turned, momentarily distracted—

That was all the opening Sylas needed.

With a sharp breath, he lunged forward and shoved the second man with all his strength.

The bandit let out a startled grunt as he stumbled backward—right over the broken fence.

His yell was cut off as he plunged down the slope, crashing through the underbrush below.

For a heartbeat, everything was silent except for the sound of leaves rustling where the men had fallen.

Then their mother grabbed them both by the wrists.

"Run!"

Their feet pounded against the dirt road, their breaths ragged as they pushed forward. Sylvie's pulse was a wild drum in her ears. She didn't look back—she couldn't.

The bandits had fallen down the steep embankment, but there was no telling if they were hurt or just dazed.

They needed to get home.

By the time they slowed, the bandits were far behind. No one spoke at first, the weight of the encounter settling over them.

Then, their mother exhaled, shaking her head. "That was too close."

Sylas let out a nervous chuckle. "We got lucky."

It wasn't luck.

She had seen the fence's weakness. Felt it.

That was the first time she had used [Tinkerer's Blessing] for something more than observation.

And it had saved them.

A small shiver ran down her spine.

This world was dangerous.

If she wanted to survive, she needed to be ready.