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The man in armor stepped closer, the forest glow casting sharp lines across his weathered face. His hair was dark, streaked with gray at the temples, and his eyes carried the weight of someone who had seen too many battles.
Ethan's grip tightened on the blood-stained branch in his hands. His instincts screamed at him not to trust anyone. Still trembling, he croaked out, "Who… who the hell are you?"
The knight gave a short laugh, more dry than warm. "Name's Sir Kael of Ashvale. Knight, former captain, current exile. And you, boy, are standing where you shouldn't exist."
Ethan blinked. "Excuse me?"
Kael gestured at him, studying him like a curiosity. "No armor. No weapons. And yet you survived a Silverfang's charge. That's not luck." His eyes narrowed. "Tell me—do you hear the hum of the earth beneath your feet? See the flow of light in the air?"
Ethan stiffened. His mouth went dry. "I… yeah. I do."
Kael's smirk faded into something more serious. "Then it's true. The Veil has broken."
The words struck Ethan like a stone to the chest. Veil. Broken. They sounded like nonsense, and yet a part of him—the part that had felt the whisper of prophecy in the forest—knew it was anything but.
Ethan tried to laugh it off, though his voice cracked. "Look, I think there's been some kind of mistake. I'm not—whatever you think I am. I'm just a guy from… somewhere else. I don't even know how I got here."
Kael's eyes softened with something like pity. "Then it chose you."
"It?" Ethan echoed.
"The Veil," Kael said. "The barrier between worlds. Legends speak of a time when it would falter, when someone from beyond would cross into ours. A stranger who could tip the balance." He paused, looking Ethan dead in the eye. "That stranger is you."
Ethan's stomach twisted. He wanted to deny it, wanted to insist he was nobody, but his sharpened senses betrayed him again. He could feel the world around him humming in agreement, the very air vibrating as if Kael's words carried truth.
Kael sheathed his sword and extended a hand. "You won't last an hour alone. Come with me. There's a village a day's walk from here. You'll need food, shelter, and someone to teach you what you've stumbled into."
Ethan hesitated. Trusting a stranger in a strange world was dangerous. But staying here alone, with more beasts like the Silverfang lurking, wasn't an option either.
He took Kael's hand.
The knight pulled him to his feet with surprising strength. "Good. Then your first lesson starts now: survival."
They began walking through the shimmering forest, Kael moving with the ease of a man who knew every shadow, Ethan stumbling after him with senses still blazing. The world felt alive in every direction—too alive. He kept flinching at distant growls, at the rustle of hidden wings, at the constant flow of magic he didn't understand.
Finally, Kael glanced at him. "Control it. Don't drown in it. Focus only on what matters."
"How?" Ethan muttered.
Kael shrugged. "The same way you survive a battle. One breath at a time."
Ethan tried. He narrowed his awareness, pushing aside the flood of sound and light, clinging to the rhythm of his own breathing. Slowly, the world dulled into something bearable.
For the first time since arriving, he felt a spark of control.
But the spark dimmed quickly as Kael added, almost casually, "Enjoy the quiet while you can, Outlander. The moment word spreads of your arrival, every faction in the realm will hunt you—some to use you, some to kill you. And none will show mercy."
Ethan's chest tightened. He thought of home, of his dull life back in the city. For the first time, he longed for that monotony. Because here, every step forward felt like a step into war.
And somehow, he was already in the center of it.
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