The change happened overnight.
For five years, waking up had been a chore. It usually involved a groggy assessment of my internal temperature, followed by a conscious effort to pull ambient heat from the room just to stop my teeth from chattering. The Hollow inside my chest was a leaky bucket I had to constantly refill, a drain that pulled the life out of me while I slept.
But on the morning of my fifth birthday, I woke up warm.
It wasn't just the wool blankets. The heat was coming from inside. The Hollow, usually a void of sucking cold, felt different. It felt… dense. Heavy. Instead of a drain, it felt like a pot of water sitting on a low fire. The warmth I had absorbed the night before was still there, sitting in my chest like a banked coal.
It stopped leaking, I realized, staring up at the rough wooden beams of the ceiling. It held the heat.
I sat up. My body felt light. Too light. It was as if the world had let go of me just a little bit. I felt a buzz under my skin, a hum of energy that made my fingers twitch.
I reached for the wooden soldier Toren had carved for me. It was sitting on the bedside table, a simple block of pine shaped like a guard with a spear. It was my favorite toy, mostly because I knew how long it had taken Toren's clumsy hands to make it smooth.
I grabbed it.
Crack.
The sound was sharp in the quiet room.
I looked down. I hadn't just picked up the toy; I had crushed it. The torso of the wooden soldier had snapped clean in half, splintering under the pressure of my grip.
I stared at my hand. It looked the same—small, five-year-old fingers, pale skin. But the wood was hard pine. Toren had trouble carving it with a knife. I had just snapped it like a dry twig.
Strong, my brain whispered. Too strong.
I carefully placed the broken pieces back on the table. I flexed my hand. The muscles responded instantly, snapping with a speed that startled me. I moved my arm. It blurred.
The Curse wasn't just eating magic anymore. It was using it. It was feeding the machine.
"Ren! Breakfast!" Miren's voice drifted from the main room.
I swung my legs out of bed. Usually, I landed with a toddler's heavy thump. Today, I landed silently, my legs soaking up the impact like fresh springs.
I walked to the door. I reached for the handle—and stopped. I took a deep breath, focusing on my hand. Gentle. Be gentle. Do not rip the door off the hinges.
I turned the knob with agonizing slowness. It clicked open.
Okay. I have to be careful.
I walked into the main room. Miren was at the table, packing a wicker basket. She looked up and smiled, the morning sun catching the few grey hairs that had appeared over the last few years.
"Happy birthday, little bird," she said, beaming. "Five years old. You're getting so big."
You have no idea, I thought.
"Market day?" I asked, keeping my voice soft. I was afraid if I spoke too loud, I might break a window.
"Market day," she confirmed. "And since it's your birthday, you can pick out a sweet. Toren gave us a silver coin."
I nodded, careful not to nod too fast and give myself whiplash. "Okay."
The Verdwood market was a lot.
It was a mess of tents and stalls set up in the village square. The air smelled of roasting meat, unwashed bodies, and the sharp, green smell of fresh-cut pine. It was loud—merchants shouting prices, chickens clucking in cages, the clang of the blacksmith's hammer from the forge across the street.
I stuck close to Miren's skirt. Not out of fear, but out of caution. My body felt like a coiled spring. Every time someone brushed past me, I had to fight the urge to shove back. If I pushed a normal kid right now, I'd probably throw them across the street.
We moved through the crowd. Miren was looking at turnips, turning them over in her hands like she was searching for hidden gold. I was looking at the Silver Seam. The magic in the market was thick, a tangled web of energy trails left by hundreds of people.
Then I heard the growl.
It was a low, angry sound, coming from the alley between the baker's stall and the tanner's shop.
I looked over.
A stray dog—a mangy, rib-thin thing with matted grey fur—was backed into a corner. It was snarling, but its tail was tucked so far between its legs it was touching its stomach.
Three boys were surrounding it. They were older, maybe eight or nine. Big kids. The leader was a heavy-set boy with a mean face and a stick in his hand.
"Stupid mutt," the leader jeered. He poked the dog with the stick. The dog snapped, teeth clicking on air. The boys laughed.
"Kick it, Jaron," one of the other boys said.
I frowned. Bullying. It was the same everywhere. Even in a world with magic, idiots liked to hurt things that couldn't fight back.
I looked at Miren. She was arguing about the price of flour. She hadn't noticed.
I took a step toward the alley.
"Hey!"
The voice cracked like a whip. It didn't come from me.
A girl stepped into the alley. She was small, exactly my height, which meant she was probably five too. But she walked like she was ten feet tall. She had hair the color of a dying fire—dark red—tied back in a messy ponytail. Her clothes were simple leathers, but they were cut for moving, not looking nice.
"Leave it alone," the girl said. She didn't shout. She just said it like it was a rule.
Jaron, the leader, turned around. He sneered when he saw her.
"Get lost, Fireborn. Go play with your dolls."
Fireborn, I noted. Warrior family.
The girl, Kaela, didn't back down. She stepped between the boys and the dog. She planted her feet, fists raised in a way that looked practiced.
"I said leave it alone."
"Or what?" Jaron laughed. He shoved her.
It was a hard shove. Kaela was balanced, but she was five. Jaron was nine and heavy. She flew backward, hitting the dirt hard.
"Nice try, shrimp," Jaron spat. He raised the stick again, aiming for the dog.
Kaela scrambled up, her face red with shame and anger. She charged him.
It was brave. It was stupid. She was going to get hurt.
I sighed. Distance, twenty feet. Stuff in the way, two crates. Target, the hanging box.
I didn't think. I moved.
I pushed off the ground.
The world blurred. The wind roared in my ears. I crossed the twenty feet in a heartbeat, moving faster than a five-year-old should be able to move.
I didn't attack Jaron. That would cause too much trouble. I attacked the world around him.
Above the bullies, a wooden crate filled with coal was hanging from a rope, waiting to be lowered into the smithy. It was held up by a simple iron pin.
I didn't run to the boys; I ran to the wall. I scrambled up the rough bricks—my fingers finding holes and gripping with that new, scary strength—and reached the pin.
I yanked it.
Click.
The rope went slack.
CRASH.
The crate of coal dropped. It didn't hit the boys—I wasn't trying to kill them—but it smashed into the ground three feet in front of Jaron.
The crash was huge. Coal dust and wood chips exploded into the air. The sound was like thunder.
"AHH!" Jaron screamed, dropping his stick and scrambling backward, tripping over his own feet. The other two boys screamed and ran, terrified by the sudden black cloud.
The dog took the chance. It darted between Jaron's legs and vanished into the market crowd.
Silence fell over the alley. The coal dust drifted down like black snow.
I dropped from the wall, landing silently in a crouch. I dusted off my hands.
"Whoops," I said, keeping my face blank.
Jaron was on the ground, covered in soot, looking up at the empty rope. He didn't know what had happened. He just knew the sky had fallen. He scrambled up and ran, crying for his mother.
I stood up and looked at Kaela.
She was covered in dust too. She was staring at the pile of coal, then at the empty hook, then at me.
Her eyes were wide. They were a bright amber color, fierce and sharp. She didn't look scared. She looked... curious.
"You did that," she said. It wasn't a question.
I shrugged, trying to look like a normal, clumsy kid. "The pin slipped."
"No," Kaela said. She walked over to me, ignoring the soot on her clothes. She got right in my face. "I saw you move. You were by the baker. Then you were on the wall. You're fast."
I froze. She saw.
Most people wouldn't have seen that. But she was a Fireborn. Warriors were born with eyes that tracked fast things.
"I run fast," I said simply.
Kaela stared at me for another second. Then, slowly, a grin spread across her face. It was a wild, happy grin. One of her front teeth was missing.
"I'm Kaela," she said, holding out a dirty hand.
I looked at the hand. I looked at the girl who had charged three boys to save a dog.
"Ren," I said.
I took her hand. Her grip was strong.
"You saved the dog," she said.
"You distracted them," I said.
She laughed. "We scared them good. Jaron peed himself."
"He did," I agreed.
"Ren!" Miren's scared voice cut through the air. She came running around the corner, her basket bouncing. "Ren! Oh, thank the Void. I heard a crash. Are you okay?"
She grabbed me, checking for broken bones. She glared at the pile of coal, then at Kaela.
"What happened here?"
"Accident," I said quickly. "The crate fell."
Miren looked at the crate, then at me. She saw the coal dust on my hands. Her eyes got tight, but she didn't say anything in front of the stranger.
"Come on," she said, taking my hand. "We're going home. No sweets today. Too dangerous."
She pulled me away.
I looked back. Kaela was still standing there, hands on her hips, watching me go. She raised her hand and gave me a sharp wave.
You're fast, she had said.
I looked at my hand, still buzzing from pulling the pin.
I had used the boost. I had moved like a soldier, not a child. And someone had seen me.
But as I looked back at the girl with the red hair and the missing tooth, I didn't feel the same fear I felt with Toren. She hadn't looked at me like I was a monster. She had looked at me like I was a partner.
Kaela Fireborn, I thought, testing the name.
The Hollow hummed in my chest, warm and full. For the first time in five years, I didn't feel cold. I felt... ready.
I squeezed Miren's hand.
"Ren?" Miren asked softly. "Did you... do something?"
"The pin was loose," I lied.
Miren sighed. "You and pins, Ren. You and pins."
We walked home. But I walked differently now. I wasn't just walking; I was testing the ground. I had power. I had a secret.
And now, I had a friend.