Being two is a special kind of prison.
My world has shrunk to the height of a man's knee. Everything is wood grain, boot leather, and the smell of floor dust. Miren takes me out every day, thank God. The village is... a village. But the forest. That's where I feel alive. The trees are massive, ancient. The air is thick with life. The ley lines are so bright here, they look like liquid silver poured over the moss.
"Stay close, Ren," Miren calls.
I'm already ahead, my legs finally working like I want them to. This body is still clumsy, but the Skill has been running the numbers on balance and motion since day one. I'm steady. I don't fall.
I put my hands on a tree trunk, wider than our house. I can feel it. A pulse. Not just sap. It's... alive. The ley lines plug into it, feeding it.
"Mama, tree sings," I say, patting the bark. I have to force my words to be simple. It's exhausting.
Miren kneels, her hand next to mine. She feels it too, in her own way. "You can hear it? The life-song?"
I nod. I don't "hear" it. I feel it. A deep, slow thrumming. The Skill translates it for me—growth, water, light. A symphony of just... being.
"You have a gift, Ren," she says, her voice soft. "A precious... dangerous gift."
That word. Dangerous. It snaps me to attention. She's not just talking about the Skill. She means the curse. It's been a year, and the hunger has come back three times. Each time, it's harder to shove back into its box. I see her and Toren watching me. The worry. I hate the worry.
The old life is almost gone now. It's just... mist. The feeling of a keyboard. The color gray. This is real. Her hand in my hair. The bark under my palms.
"Come," she says, taking my hand. "Patients to see."
Miren's work is my real school.
We stop at Elara's house. The air is thick with herbs. I smell it before we're even inside—comfrey, willow bark, and something sharp and clean. Antiseptic.
"Better, dear," Elara says from her bed. "And you've brought your little shadow."
They all call me that. I just watch. They think it's cute. They don't know I'm memorizing everything.
Miren unwraps the splint. The bruising is a sickly yellow-green. Good. The bone is straight. She touches the leg, and I see it—a tiny, controlled thread of healing magic. Not a flashy spell, just... a nudge. Guiding the body.
My fingers itch. I want to try. I see exactly how she's doing it. I understand the flow.
But I'm two. I can't even hold a cup right most days, let alone channel magic. If I did, the questions would start.
"Ren, the brown jar from my bag, please?" Miren asks, not even looking.
I toddle to her satchel. It's full of jars. At least five are brown. I grab the one for pain salve. I just... know it's the one she wants. I hand it to her.
She takes it, but her eyes widen. Just a little.
Oops. Too smart. I need to be more careful. Need to be more... two.
The market is chaos. A wall of smells—bread, sweat, hot metal, manure.
"Miren!" A woman with hair like a bonfire, built like a brick wall. Greta Fireborn. A warrior, top to bottom.
"Greta," Miren smiles.
"Kaela! Get over here!"
A little girl, maybe a year older than me, breaks off from a pack of feral-looking kids. Same red hair. Dirt on her knees.
"This is Kaela," Greta says. "Kaela, Ren. Play nice."
Kaela stares at me. I stare back. She's already standing in a fighter's brace.
"You're the weird baby," she says. Not mean. Just a fact.
"You're the loud girl," I shoot back, keeping my words simple.
She blinks. Then she grins, a wide, gap-toothed thing. "Loud is good. People listen."
"Or hide."
"Only cowards hide."
I like her.
"Want to play?" She grabs my hand. It's rough. She drags me into a game. It's... stupid. Some kind of tag with a ball, and the rules seem to change every five seconds. It's... fun.
I'm actually running. I'm laughing. I'm just a kid. It's the first time I've felt this way.
A shout interrupts us. "Demonstration! Guard's at it!"
The entire pack of kids, Kaela included, streams toward the training ground. I get swept along. I'm small, so I wiggle my way to the front.
Two fighters. One is old—Captain Felric. Scars. Bored eyes. The other is young, fast, and trying way too hard.
And my brain just... clicks. The Skill. It's not even me doing it. It just sees.
The young guy shifts his weight to his back foot. He's going to lunge.
Felric's shoulder twitches. He's baiting him.
The lunge. The parry. Felric's blade is at the young guy's throat. It was over before it started.
This is fascinating.
"You're squinting," Kaela whispers, bouncing on her toes.
I'm not. I'm recording. Felric isn't just fighting. He's making the other guy lose. He controls everything.
"That was amazing!" Kaela yells. "I'm gonna fight like that!"
"You will," I say, my mind still replaying the fight.
"How do you know?"
"You're strong," I say. It's the simplest truth. "And brave."
She puffs up. "My aunt says I'll be the best!"
"Maybe second best," I murmur, not thinking.
Damn it.
Her eyes narrow. "Oh yeah? Who's first?"
I'm two. I'm an idiot. I can't say "me." "Um... hasn't been born yet?"
She nods, considering this seriously. "Makes sense. Probably."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
That night, Toren takes me outside. "Play," he calls it.
It's not play. It's training.
"Stance," he commands.
I settle into it. Feet apart. Knees bent. It's wobbly. My head is too big for this body, and my balance is a mess.
Toren circles me, tapping my back, my ankle. "Better." He moves. "Watch. The Dawn Salute."
He flows through twelve movements. No wasted energy. He's like Felric.
My mind has it. I see the whole form, clear as day. I understand the transitions, the balance, the application of force.
"Your turn. First three."
I try. My body... this stupid toddler body. I stumble. I feel the Skill, telling me what to do, but my muscles won't obey. It's like... like trying to write a novel with a crayon.
"Not bad," Toren says. I hear the pride. And the worry. Always the worry. "We'll do this every night."
"Why?" I ask, my simple-word mask back in place.
He crouches, his hands huge on my shoulders. "Because the world is dangerous, Ren. Because you're... special. And special gets noticed. Not always by the right people."
He's talking about the curse. He's talking about everything.
"I want you to be strong," he says, his voice rough. "Strong enough to protect what matters."
"I'll be strong," I promise.
I'm three. The world is getting clearer.
I can talk, really talk now. I "help" Miren with her herbs. I actually am helping. Toren and I "play" every night. My body is finally starting to listen. The Dawn Salute is... okay. I can do it without falling over.
But this year is about Kaela.
She's four, and she's started official training. I'm too young. I just sit on the fence and watch.
And learn. I watch the instructors, the drills, the older kids. I absorb everything.
"You stare a lot," Kaela says one day, sweaty and grinning, handing me a water skin.
"It's interesting."
"Then join!" she says. "You're smart. I bet you're better than half those kids already."
I freeze. "I'm three."
"So?" She leans in. "I see you, Ren. In your yard. When you think no one's looking. You do the sword moves."
My blood runs cold. I've been caught.
"I... I don't..."
"It's cool," she says, punching my arm. "You're weird. I like weird." She holds out a grimy hand. "But it's my secret, right?"
"Promise not to tell?"
She spits in her palm. "Warrior's oath."
It's disgusting. It's the most relieving thing that's ever happened. I spit in mine and slap her hand.
"Good." She greets. "Now you owe me. When you're big enough, you have to spar me for real."
"Deal."
"Good. 'Cause we're gonna be the greatest warriors Verdwood has ever seen!" She beams, all confidence and fire. "Heroes always have partners, right? You be the smart one, I'll be the strong one. We'll be unstoppable!"
I look at her, this loud, brave, crazy girl. My only friend.
"Unstoppable," I agree. And for the first time, I believe it.