The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon by the time Tom stepped outside, the sky painted in soft hues of lavender and gold. The cool evening air brushed against his skin as he descended the steps from his house, his hands tucked deep into his pockets. The village wasn't loud, not yet at least, though it was alive with activity, as everyone had something of their own that they needed to do. The only thing that was a bit awkward was the people who turned to look at him. Truth be told, they had every reason to stare. His pale skin and long ears made him stick out like a sore thumb, and while their looks were mostly neutral, it didn't take away from how weird it felt. A few villagers offered waves or respectful nods, and he responded with a warm smile, returning their gestures in kind.

  His feet carried him without thought, well away from the merchant stalls and smiths, until he found himself just outside a worn stone well in the village center. There, a small group of children had gathered around an old traveling performer who flew in his hand a ball of water that occasionally morphed into a myriad of shapes, some resembling humans and other weird races that existed in this world, while others were just monstrous in appearance. But that didn't stop the amazed stares he received from his wide-eyed audience, who clapped in amusement and demanded that he do more.

  Tom leaned against the well's edge, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. The performer's magic was simple, probably nothing more than a parlor trick by a true mage's standards, but it still sparked wonder in the eyes of the children. Of course, it was well above his capability to do with folk magic, but it was something that he would be able to do if he continued training. The only thing that truly fascinated him about the whole display was the sheer amount of mana the construct was made of.

  It surely should have exploded by now or completely fallen apart, but the performer didn't seem to struggle at all.

  "His mana output is crazy." The children gasped and cheered. A small girl with messy braids turned to him, tugging at the sleeve of his cloak as she said excitedly, "Did you see that? He made a wyvern!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. Tom smiled down at the girl, nodding. "I did. A pretty good one, too. Looked almost real, didn’t it?" She grinned and bounced on her toes. "I wanna learn how to do that! Mama says only grown-ups can use magic, but that’s not true, right?”

  Well… her mother was technically wrong, but he didn't want to make the girl realize that her mother was lying to her, so he decided against telling her the truth. Crouching a little to meet her gaze, he said, "You would need to be at least 13 years old to be able to do magic." The girl stared at him in awe for a second, then nodded solemnly, as though he had just handed her a great truth. She ran back to her group without another word, shouting, "He said I can learn too!”

  Tom chuckled and stood upright again, though his smile faded a bit as his eyes trailed back to the performer.

  By now, the man had quickly begun to wrap up his things, with a couple of floating hands hovering in the sky helping him to do so, as Tom left the scene.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The village was beautiful, not a lot, but still in a way that settled deep in your bones and made you stop to look at it. The cobblestone paths were a bit uneven, dimly lit by lanterns swaying gently in the breeze, while ivy curled lazily along the timber-framed buildings, with the smell of baked bread and roasted root vegetables wafting through the air from the tavern down the lane, along with the vast variety of creatures huddling around said buildings and talking to each other.

  There were humans, yes, but not as many as he was expecting, to be honest. There were only a few, but they were pretty friendly with the bipedal foxes, rats, kobolds, Dublins, and various other species that were in the village.

  Tom’s steps slowed as he walked, his gaze drifting to the darkening sky. A few stars had begun to blink into existence, and for a moment, he imagined them as pinholes in a vast canvas, like a pair of lights bleeding through from a world beyond to join this world. He liked that thought, it made the universe feel a little less lonely.

  He passed a pair of elderly villagers seated on a bench, sharing a quiet conversation between long pauses and the rhythmic sound of whittling. They nodded at him as he went by, and he offered a small bow in return. Though they had seen him before (during the celebration of his Awakening), he could tell from their eyes that they still didn’t quite know what to make of him. Few did.

  That was fine. He didn’t quite know what to make of himself either.

  "What is that smell?" he sniffed the air, eyebrows drawing together. It was rich and tangy, with an undertone of something sweet. Whatever it was, it made his stomach rumble and reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since morning. The scent seemed to be coming from a small stall tucked between two buildings near the edge of the main lane, where a squat, owl-eyed vendor was ladling a deep purple stew into a pair of wooden bowls while an entire crowd had gathered to buy her food and other pastries that were lying on the table.

  The woman kind of resembled a fish but had enough features to at least appear human, and, on some levels, be recognized as female. She was most likely a fishman, though of what kind he didn't know. All he knew was that he wanted whatever she was making.

  Tom hesitated only a moment before stepping closer. The vendor, who wore a stained apron and had blood-red, fish-like eyes (which looked kind of disturbing), glanced up at him before giving a sharp, approving nod in his direction.

  "First bowl's on the house for the Awakened," the vendor said, voice raspy but still kind.

  Tom blinked in surprise. “You know who I am?”

  “Haaah! Who wouldn't be aware of the son of Anna, one of the greatest mages of our time? It's a miracle to see her son walking free of that curse. Rumor has it that she went mad trying to find a cure for him.” Tom froze, not out of shock or anything like that, just out of… a strange emotion he couldn't place. A hush seemed to fall over his immediate surroundings, or maybe it just felt that way to him.

  The vendor’s eyes softened, well, at least, as much as bulbous, fish-like eyes could. She ladled a generous portion of the purple stew into a thick, carved bowl and handed it to him. “People don’t forget miracles, boy,” she murmured. “Just be glad the gods look down on you and her and decided you two have had enough.”

  Her words really shouldn't have affected him that much, but for some reason, they did. He, of course, took the food and left as quickly as he could, giving her a polite bow and paying, even though she insisted that he didn't have to do so. But he didn't care, he just wanted to get out of that place. He didn't want to think about what she said.

  He wasn't Thalos, and that was the issue. People think that he is awake, but he isn't. He was probably dead. No, he is dead. He's just somebody piloting his body. He didn't really know the whole deal he made with death in order to reincarnate, it was all fuzzy, and he didn't really have much time to ask any questions of the creature.

  And that was what bothered him.

  He was a fake.

  And he was afraid of people discovering that, which was why he denied the request for the soul examination.

  The food went cold. He didn't even bother eating it. He just walked and walked and walked until he reached his… uh, home and opened the door.

  “Young master—” the man didn't even finish. Tom just walked past him, his gaze fixed on the steps as he climbed up, ignoring the calls and voices behind him until he closed the door.