Chief’s Lodge,

  Coldspring Village,

  Northern Province.

  -

  Zoe helped Finn sit down. His eyes still moved slightly, confused.

  “You’re welcome, Finn,” Lars said.

  Finn shook his head. “That guy’s human trash. Always has been. You know better than anyone how worthless he is, Lars. So why punch me?”

  “Lars is right, Finn. Granted, he didn’t have to knock you unconscious either.” Chief Sigrid added, sipping the tea that had just arrived. “You don’t want Zoe getting dragged into trouble, do you, Finn?”

  The maid came over to Zoe, bringing another chair so she could sit.

  “Thanks.” Zoe sat, tuning back into the conversation.

  “So what? Trash is still trash. Just ‘cause he runs the damn mine?”

  “Huh, anyway.” Sigrid took a long sip before continuing, “Let’s talk about her. We’ve had some discussions without you, but they’re limited since Zoe doesn’t speak much of our language.”

  Sigrid turned toward Zoe, who replied with a simple nod.

  “By the way, Finn. Where exactly is she from?”

  Finn sat beside her, tense. He didn’t answer.

  Zoe didn’t blame him.

  How could he explain it? A pale-haired girl, dressed in thin clothes, showing up in a freezing northern village out of nowhere?

  She forced herself to sit still, but her fingers curled into her black skirt.

  Chief Sigrid exhaled slowly, gaze shifting between them.

  Finally, he spoke again.

  “…If Finn can’t answer,” he said, eyes locking onto her, “then how about you tell us where you’re from, Zoe?”

  Her breath caught.

  Shit. What do I say?

  She couldn’t just blurt out, “Oh, I’m from another world!” and expect them to nod along. Would they think she was insane? Lying? An escaped convict?

  Chief Sigrid’s eyes flicked down—saw her clenched hands, the tension in her shoulders, the way her mouth opened and closed.

  Then his expression shifted. The sharpness in his gaze softened—just slightly.

  “…Ah.” A quiet chuckle rumbled from his throat. “I see now. I must’ve startled you.”

  “I’m not interrogating you, child.” His tone softened. “I was just curious. It’s been years since someone with magical potential was born in our village.”

  He leaned back a little. “Forgive me. I should’ve been clearer.”

  Zoe’s lips parted slightly. He wasn’t really asking where she was from. He isn’t suspicious of me?

  She glanced at Finn—he was already looking at her, just as surprised.

  “You’ve got magic in you, don’t you? The way you destroyed Lars’ tavern.” Chief Sigrid smiled faintly, the smile growing into a full laugh.

  Magic?

  She’d suspected, of course. What else could explain what happened? First in the forest with Finn. Then blowing up Lars’ tavern.

  “Ah. Sorry. Lars. I. And. Finn. Fix. Tavern.”

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  He shot her a look—maybe wondering why he got roped into the repairs—but said nothing in protest.

  Chief Sigrid turned to Urak, the village’s only mage—a tall, older man with long graying hair just visible under his hood. He hadn’t spoken a word, just watched.

  He lowered his hood, revealing a wrinkled but scarless face.

  “Urak,” Sigrid said, “I’m leaving her in your care.”

  Urak nodded. “Of course.”

  Wait, what? What does that mean? Zoe turned to Finn, hoping he’d read her mind and ask.

  “Come to the backyard, Zoe,” Urak said, already walking.

  Zoe followed, motioning for Finn to join her.

  But just as Finn began to stand, Sigrid stopped him. “Finn, we’re not done here. She’ll be fine with Urak. You two can go back to being lovebirds later.”

  He chuckled, teasing.

  Reluctantly, Zoe left him and followed Urak to the backdoor.

  She sat cross-legged on the frosted ground. Urak stood in front of her, arms folded.

  “First off, do you have any question?”

  She waited, for a moment, pretending to have been thinking of a question. Then she shook her head.

  “Alright, I will start my explanation from basic. Use this, to take a note.” He threw what appeared to be a book and a pencil.

  The shape was kind of weird, the paper felt rougher than anything on Earth, while the pencil... How am I even supposed to hold this thing?!

  Urak raised one eyebrow and demonstrated how to hold the pencil before returning to his position and continuing the explanation.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” Urak said, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

  Zoe huffed, shifting her weight. “He. started.”

  Urak exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “And? You think your huge power is just for throwing tantrums?”

  Huge?

  “Not. tantrum. defending. myself. Lars.” She scowled.

  But honestly, if she had the options, she wouldn’t have released that much power. In the end, she did more damage than needed.

  He jabbed a finger at his other palm. “That kind of magic, that was instinct. Panic. You let it control you. We’re fixing that.”

  Great. More lectures. Not on earth, not in here. But hey, at least it’s not about statistics.

  “How?”

  He gestured to the empty space. “Do it again. Smaller this time.”

  She hesitated. Oh sure, let me just magically summon my magic. “I… not. know. how.”

  “Figure it out.”

  Zoe stood in the empty space.

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember the feeling, the snap in her stomach, the surge of heat in her veins, the invisible explosion that had knocked them all back.

  It had been like something inside her burst.

  She clenched her fists. Burst.

  Nothing happened.

  Urak sighed. “What were you feeling back then?”

  “I. Panic. angry—”

  “So you lost control.” His eyes darted up and left, as if looking for an explanation. “Ummm… Your magic did what your body wanted—it pushed everything away.”

  She frowned. What? What kind of explanation is that?

  “Yeah. I. knew.”

  Urak rolled his eyes. “Ok, wait. Umm.” He held his chin, thinking.

  Zoe frowned. “What. to. do?”

  Urak stepped forward. “Do it again. Concentrate more this time.”

  She smacked her lips. Great, so he isn’t even sure what to do.

  Zoe swallowed. She tried. Again. And again. She focused, she tensed, she wanted something—anything—to happen. But her hands stayed empty.

  She failed to replicate the explosion.

  A muscle in Urak’s jaw twitched. “You’re holding back.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Yes, you are. You’re scared of letting go. You’re scared of what happened last time.”

  She flinched. That’s not true. Maybe if you’re a better teacher, I would’ve done it by now.

  Urak clicked his tongue. “Fine. You won’t call it willingly? Let’s see if pressure helps.”

  He pulled out his wand. The tip glowed—she heard the ground crack beneath him.

  Pebbles floated into the air.

  He fired one.

  It hit her arm. “Ouch. It. Hurt. Teach.”

  He fired again. One. Two. Three. All hit. All ignored her cries.

  Mama, it hurts. This old man’s torturing me. She curled down, shielding her head.

  He stopped. Zoe peeked up as Urak walked toward the door.

  “We’re done. Maybe you really are helpless. I’ll just go help Sigrid torture Finn instead.”

  Something inside her shifted—flowed.

  She raised her arm. Another explosion burst out. Smaller, but real.

  “Finally. What, trying to stop me now? You’re an outlander. And Finn’s hiding where you’re from. Of course we’re going to torture him.”

  “STOP. NO!”

  She launched another—this time a shockwave. Her stance was awful, but the force still landed.

  He dodged with ease. Closed the gap fast.

  Zoe charged another.

  He kicked her. She fell.

  “Easy, kid. Finn’s fine. Can't believe you fell for such surface level lies.” He smiled. “Anyway, you just cast spells without any magic chanelling equipment. That’s… impressive.”

  Inside the lodge, Finn, Lars, and Sigrid still continued their discussion.

  Chief Sigrid crossed his arms, eyes sharp with disapproval. “You want to rebuild the forge, yet you didn’t come to me?”

  Finn flinched. “I—”

  Sigrid’s expression darkened. “Thorne was like a brother to me, Finn. It’s an insult that his own son doesn’t trust me enough to help.”

  Lars sat nearby, watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and secondhand anxiety.

  Finn stood stiffly, clearly struggling to find the right words.

  “…I didn’t want to be a burden.”

  Sigrid exhaled sharply. “Nonsense.”

  After a tense silence, the decision was made—Finn would stay in Chief Sigrid’s lodge and help around the place.

  In return, Sigrid would send people to purchase all the necessary equipment to get the forge running again.

  “And Lars, we’re gonna send people to help you fix things up and restock.”

  Lars agreed, adding a cheeky wink for flair.

  —