Sword crazed

**DING! DING! DING!**

The merchants' bell shatters the morning calm. A grizzled man in a leather jerkin—the guild's insignia barely visible beneath layers of grime—stomps onto a crate, his voice cutting through the camp:

*"Listen up! Two days from Galespire ain't two days on holiday! I catch one slack-jawed fool napping?"* He draws his finger across his throat. *"Wolf chow. Now MOVE!"*

As the camp erupts into motion, I curl tighter in the cart, whispering like a prayer: *"Aaron... Aaron..."* Testing how it fits between my teeth.

**THUNK.** Aiden's face suddenly fills my view as he leans into the cart. I scramble back, heart leaping to my throat.

*"Whoa, easy there!"* He holds up calloused palms, grinning. *"Heard you got some memories back? That's—"*

*"Just my name,"* I murmur, *"Nothing else."*

Aiden's smile doesn't waver. *"Hey, that's somethin'! It's like findin' the first coin in a treasure chest, there will always be more to come!"*

**"AIDEN!"** The merchant's roar shakes dew from nearby leaves. *"What'd I say about slackers?!"*

*"Yeesh! Goin', sir!"* He shoots me a wink before vanishing.

I lay back in the cart, staring at the worn cloth roof as I replay Julianne and Aiden's sword fights in my mind. The morning sun still painted the canvas golden when I first began, my arm lifting weakly to mimic their precise movements. But my empty hand only flailed awkwardly in the air. Frustrated, I scanned the cart until my fingers closed around a long wooden splinter from one of the broken crates.

*This will have to do.*

Bracing myself against the cart's constant rocking, I tried to recall Julianne's technique - how her sword moved like the wind itself, each stroke fluid and purposeful. My own attempts were clumsy by comparison, the splinter wobbling in my unsteady grip. But I didn't care how foolish I must look. With each swing, I felt a growing warmth in my chest, a thrilling satisfaction that pushed me to continue even as my muscles screamed in protest.

"Aaron! Aaron! AARON!"

Julianne's voice finally broke through my trance. I blinked up to see her concerned face framed by the setting sun - when had morning become evening? My arms dropped limply to my sides as sudden exhaustion and a poisoning smell of sweat crashed over me like a wave. The splinter slipped from my fingers as darkness swallowed my vision.

My eyes open to a forest choked with unnatural darkness. The air hangs stagnant, carrying the scent of wet earth and something metallic—like old blood. An invisible force tugs at me, pulling forward almost against my will. Each step I take fights against an invisible mud.

The clearing appears suddenly, like a wound in the forest's flesh. Moonlight bleeds weakly through the twisted branches, illuminating the figure waiting at its center.

A man-shaped thing with curling ram's horns stands perfectly still. Its skin looks wrong - too smooth, like stone that forgot how to be stone. The shadows around it move when it doesn't. As I watch, its head turns toward me with slow, deliberate purpose. Empty black eyes lock onto mine.

My breath catches and I begin to shake but not from fear. My blood starts to boil with a rage I don't understand, my fingers curling in towards my palms as my vision tints red at the edges. This anger feels ancient, like something buried deep within my very soul.

**"AARON!"**

**Reality:**

A hard slap jolts me awake. I gasp, clutching my chest, to find Julianne and Aiden hovering over me, their faces tight with concern.

They lean back slightly, eyes uneasy.

*"What's wrong?"* I ask, alarmed.

Aiden's voice is uncharacteristically grave: *"Your eyes… they're glowing."*

Panicked, I scramble for a mirror but only find a rain puddle lit by the campfire. My reflection stares back—normally dark blue eyes now glow deep crimson, pulsing like embers before fading back to normal.

**CRACKLE.** The campfire spits embers as Julianne steps beside me, her shadow stretching long across the trampled grass.

*"Hey, kiddo."* Her voice is soft, the way one might speak to a spooked horse. *"You all right?"*

*"Y-yeah,"* I lie, my pulse still hammering in my throat. I try to stand—only for my legs to fold like wet parchment.

Julianne's smirk flashes in the firelight. *"That's what you get for working yourself to death, squirt."* Her arm hooks under mine, hauling me up with surprising gentleness before steering me toward the fire.

The log is rough against my palms as I collapse onto it. Only then does the pain announce itself—a chorus of aches singing across every muscle. I squirm, the discomfort writhing beneath my skin like ants.

Julianne pokes the fire with a stick, sending up a shower of sparks. *"So why were you swinging that splinter like a madman today?"*

Sheepishly, I say, "I don't really know... It just felt good every time I swung it."

"Seriously?" Julianne raises one eyebrow, the firelight catching the scar on her chin. "When I found you in the cart, you were trembling, breathing like you'd run from demons, and drenched in enough sweat to fill Aiden's flask." She nudges a log with her boot, sending up sparks. "Not what I'd call fun."

I look up and see genuine concern etched across Julianne's usually stern face.

"Sorry for making you worry," I mumble, picking at a splinter on the log.

Julianne lets out a soft sigh, the kind that makes her leather armor creak. "Just don't push yourself that hard again, okay?"

"Okay," I say, my voice small.

"Good," Julianne says, her calloused hand briefly squeezing my shoulder. "Now you should head off to bed. Here—let me guide you."

The cart's straw bedding, usually scratchy against my skin, might as well be a royal featherbed tonight. As I collapse onto it, my body melts into the rough planks beneath me—every muscle surrendering at once. Julianne tosses her spare cloak over me, the wool smelling of campfire smoke and pine resin.

Sleep comes like a dropped stone into deep water—swift and swallowing.