Life in Caldmere moved at the pace of growing crops. Slow, steady, and full of dirt under your fingernails. By the time Aldric and I turned five, I had mostly gotten used to the new body. It still felt weird sometimes, like wearing clothes that did not quite fit right, but I could run around without tripping over my own feet and I could talk without sounding like a dumbass most days.
Our house was nothing special. Just a sturdy wooden place with a thatched roof, a big main room where we ate and slept, and a small loft where Mom kept her herbs. Dad worked the fields from sunup to sundown, growing wheat and potatoes mostly, with a few chickens scratching around the yard. Mom handled the garden, the cooking, and making sure we did not burn the place down.
"Eren, quit daydreaming and pass me that bucket," Dad called one morning, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He was a big guy, broad shoulders from years of swinging a scythe, with rough hands that could crack walnuts without trying.
I grabbed the wooden bucket and lugged it over to him. It was heavy with water from the well, sloshing over the sides and soaking my shirt. "Here."
He took it with a grunt and poured it into the trough for the mule. "Good lad. Steady as always."
Aldric was over by the woodpile, stacking logs like it was some kind of competition. He had this way of throwing himself into everything, even dumb chores. His arms were already getting a bit more muscle than mine, probably because he snuck in extra practice when no one was looking. I saw him doing push-ups behind the barn last week. Idiot.
"You two finish up and come eat," Mom shouted from the doorway. She had flour on her apron and that tired but warm smile she always wore. "Bread is fresh. And no fighting over the biggest piece, Aldric."
We sat at the rough table inside, the smell of warm bread and stew filling the room. I tore off a chunk and chewed slowly, listening to Dad talk about the harvest. "Looks decent this year. If the rain holds off, we might actually turn a little profit after taxes."
Aldric perked up at that. "Taxes go to the capital, right? To the Emperor and all those nobles?"
Dad chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Aye. Valdris takes its share. But it keeps the roads safe and the soldiers paid. Better than the old days, from what the elders say."
I kept my mouth shut and just nodded along. In my old life I had read enough to know the Empire was rotting underneath all that fancy talk, but saying anything like that at five years old would get me weird looks. Or worse. So I stayed quiet. Background guy stuff.
After breakfast we were supposed to help in the garden, but Aldric grabbed my sleeve and pulled me behind the chicken coop when Mom was not looking.
"Listen," he whispered, eyes bright like he had been waiting all morning. "I have been thinking. That Aether stuff everyone talks about. Most kids get tested when they are older, but I bet if we practice now, we could get ahead. The stories always have the hero starting weak and then boom, power up. We know how it works. We could skip the weak part."
I wiped dirt off my hands and sighed. "Aldric, we are five. Five. What the hell are you going to practice? Stacking rocks and pretending it is magic?"
He frowned, that stubborn look I remembered from our old life. "It is not pretending. I can feel something when I concentrate. Like a little warmth in my chest. You must feel it too."
I did feel it sometimes. A faint buzz, like static electricity under my skin. But I ignored it on purpose. The less Aether I showed, the less chance anyone would look at me twice. "Even if I do, I am not touching it. You want to chase the plot? Fine. Go be the next big hero. Just do not drag me into your mess when the demons show up or whatever."
He crossed his arms. "You are really going to waste this life being nobody? We died young last time. Boring deaths. This is our shot to actually matter."
"I do not want to matter," I said, keeping my voice low. "I want to grow up, learn a trade like carpentry or something normal, maybe marry a girl who does not have some secret destiny, and die in my sleep at seventy with a full belly and no one writing ballads about me. That is the dream."
Aldric stared at me like I had grown a second head. "You are scared."
"Maybe. Or maybe I am smart. You read the same novels I did. The guys who jump in get stabbed, betrayed, or watch their friends die. No thanks."
He opened his mouth to argue more, but Mom called us back before he could. We spent the rest of the morning pulling weeds in silence, the tension sitting between us like a rock in the shoe.
In the afternoon we wandered down to the village square. Caldmere was not big. Maybe two hundred people, a handful of shops, an inn that mostly served travelers heading toward the capital, and the old well where everyone gossiped. Kids our age were playing some game with sticks and a ball made of rags. I joined in halfheartedly, making sure I did not run too fast or throw too hard. Just average.
Aldric hung back at first, watching. Then he spotted old Master Orwen sitting on his usual bench outside the inn, nursing a mug of something that definitely was not water. The guy was a mess. Gray hair sticking up everywhere, clothes stained with who knows what, and a smell like cheap ale and pipe smoke. But the adults treated him with this weird respect, like they knew he used to be somebody important.
Aldric walked right up to him. Ballsy little shit.
"Master Orwen," he said, trying to sound older than he was. "You were a battle mage once, right? Can you tell us about Aether? How it works?"
Orwen squinted at him with bloodshot eyes, then glanced over at me where I had followed. He took a long drink and wiped his mouth. "Curious little shits, are you? Most kids your age just want to chase chickens."
Aldric grinned. "We are not most kids."
I wanted to kick him. Instead I shrugged like it was no big deal. "Just heard stories. That is all."
Orwen laughed, a raspy sound that turned into a cough. "Stories, huh? Well, Aether is in everything. Air, dirt, your blood. Most folks have a trickle. Enough to make crops grow or mend a cut. But some have more. Cores, they call them. Dense ones. Those are the ones who can shape it proper. Turn it into fire or shields or whatever damn fool thing they want."
He leaned forward, voice dropping like he was sharing a secret. "But it is not free. Push too hard, too young, and it can burn you out. Or worse. Seen plenty of bright lads end up empty husks chasing power."
His eyes lingered on both of us a second longer than I liked. Like he saw something. I looked away fast, pretending to watch the other kids.
Aldric asked a few more questions, all careful and casual, but I could hear the hunger in his voice. He was already planning his moves.
Me? I just wanted to go home, eat dinner, and maybe help Dad mend a fence tomorrow. Nothing special. Nothing that would get me noticed.
As the sun dipped lower, we headed back. Aldric walked beside me, quiet for once.
"You felt it too," he said finally. "When he talked about the cores."
I did not answer right away. The faint buzz was there again, warm in my chest, like it was listening. "Does not matter. I am ignoring it."
He shook his head. "One day you will not be able to. The world does not let people stay small forever."
I kicked a stone down the dirt path. "Watch me try."
The evening settled in with the usual sounds. Chickens settling, Dad washing up, Mom humming while she stirred the pot. Normal stuff. Safe stuff.
But in the back of my mind, I could not shake the feeling that Aldric was right about one thing. The plot, whatever it was, was already turning out there. And two extra players who knew the spoilers might not stay invisible for long.
I pushed the thought down and went inside for dinner. Tomorrow would be another quiet day.
I hoped.