After a solid meal and a few hours of rest, I knew it was time to start figuring out my place in Fairhope.

  Healing the wounded had earned me trust, but trust only went so far. If I wanted to stay, if I wanted stability, I needed something more permanent—a place of my own, a reason for people to see me as one of them instead of just a passing stranger.

  I found Callum near the town’s central square, leaning against a stack of crates while chatting with a few others.

  “Got a minute?” I asked.

  He pushed off the crate. “What’s on your mind, mate?”

  “I want to set up a place here. A little shop, maybe a garden. Somewhere I can work and help people properly.”

  Callum raised an eyebrow. “Ain’t even been here a day, and you’re already settlin’ in?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t see much point in waiting.”

  He laughed. “Fair enough. We’ve got some empty spots on the east side, near the outer wall. Bit quieter out there, but you’d have room for your garden. That work for you?”

  “Perfect.”

  The spot Callum led me to was on the edge of town, just inside the wooden palisade. It was a patch of land, mostly bare except for a few broken beams and scattered debris. Looked like it might’ve been a house before, but whatever had been here was long gone.

  “Town’s still small,” Callum explained. “Not enough people to use every bit of land yet. But if you fix this place up, no one’ll complain. Might even help out.”

  I took a deep breath, letting my magic flow into the earth beneath me.

  I’d built shelters before—makeshift places to sleep while I was on the move—but this was different. This was the first time I was building something meant to last.

  Thor and Loki stood beside me as I knelt, pressing my hands into the dirt.

  I reached deep, calling to the land.

  The earth responded, shifting beneath my fingers. Roots coiled together, weaving into a foundation. Thick vines rose, hardening into support beams. The soil compressed, forming sturdy walls, and a framework began to take shape.

  I worked slowly, deliberately, making sure every part of the structure was reinforced. By the time I stood back up, a modest wooden-and-earth cabin stood where nothing had been before.

  It wasn’t fancy. Just a single-story house, big enough for me, with a small space up front where I could sell herbs and supplies. But it was mine.

  Callum let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s a hell of a trick.”

  “It’ll do,” I said, dusting off my hands.

  He clapped me on the back. “You’re full of surprises, mate. I’ll send a few folks over to help furnish the place. Gotta say, you’re makin’ yourself useful real fast.”

  Once the house was standing, the next step was getting the garden started.

  The land around the house was dry and uneven, but that was easy enough to fix. A few more pulses of magic, and the soil softened, enriched with nutrients. I started planting herbs, medicinal plants, and even a few crops—things that would help both healers and traders in town.

  Over the next few days, people came by—some out of curiosity, others to lend a hand. A few kids stopped by, watching as I worked the land, wide-eyed as they saw the plants grow faster than they should under my touch.

  The medic from before—Dr. Morrison—visited on the second day.

  “Heard you’re growing herbs,” he said, crossing his arms. “If you can get me fresh medicinal plants, we can really use ‘em. Supplies run thin, and I’m tired of stretching what little we’ve got.”

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  “That’s the plan,” I told him. “Give me a week, and I’ll have some ready.”

  He nodded. “Good. You keep this up, and you’ll be worth more than half the hunters in town.”

  That was fine by me.

  I wasn’t a warrior. I wasn’t a raider.

  But I could build. I could grow.

  And Fairhope was starting to feel like home.

  The morning after my shop was set up, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Fairhope was still getting used to me, and while people had been curious about my magic, curiosity didn’t always translate to trust.

  I spent the early hours tending to the garden, encouraging the herbs to grow, strengthening their roots, making sure the soil was rich and healthy. The air smelled of fresh earth, and a cool breeze carried the scent of budding rosemary and mint through the open windows of my shop.

  I had just finished harvesting a batch of medicinal roots when I heard the first set of footsteps approaching.

  A young woman stepped up to my counter, shifting nervously. She was thin, with short brown hair and a wary look in her eyes. Behind her stood a boy, maybe ten or eleven, who clutched at her sleeve.

  “You’re the healer?” she asked, hesitant.

  I wiped my hands on a rag and nodded. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

  She hesitated before pulling the boy forward. “It’s my brother, Liam. He—he’s got something wrong with his chest. Keeps coughing, can’t catch his breath sometimes.”

  Liam ducked his head, looking embarrassed. His breathing was shallow, his cheeks flushed like he was running a fever.

  I stepped around the counter and knelt down in front of him. “Mind if I take a look, bud?”

  Liam shrugged, and his sister tensed, but she didn’t stop me.

  I placed a hand lightly on his chest and closed my eyes. My magic reached inside him, tracing through his body, searching for imbalances. What I found wasn’t good—his lungs were inflamed, his breathing tight. It wasn’t just a cold.

  It was early-stage pneumonia.

  “He’s been sick for a while, hasn’t he?” I asked, opening my eyes.

  His sister bit her lip and nodded. “No one else could do anything. We don’t have much medicine left, and…” She swallowed, looking away.

  I exhaled and reached deeper into my magic. Warm, green energy spread from my palm, flowing through Liam’s chest, into his lungs. The tightness eased, the fever receded, and after a moment, he let out a deep breath—his first easy, full breath in weeks.

  His eyes widened. “Whoa.”

  I grinned. “Better?”

  He nodded quickly, testing his breath again.

  His sister looked at me like I had just pulled the moon down from the sky. “That fast?”

  I stood up, shaking the lingering magic from my fingers. “He’ll need to rest, and I’ll give you some herbs to make sure the infection doesn’t come back. But yeah. He should be fine now.”

  She stared at me for a moment, then suddenly grabbed my hands. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  I squeezed her hands gently. “Just take care of him, okay?”

  She nodded, looking like she might cry.

  That was my first customer.

  And after that?

  Word got around fast.

  By midday, I had a line of people outside my shop.

  By the next morning, word had spread, and a steady stream of people arrived at my shop, seeking help. At first, it was just a trickle—curious villagers testing whether the rumors were true—but soon, a line had formed outside. An old man with stiff joints, a hunter with a deep gash on his arm, a pregnant woman worried about complications—one by one, they stepped forward, and I did what I could. Some cases required only a bit of magic, a simple healing pulse to mend wounds or ease pain. Others needed a slower touch, guided by herbs and careful treatment. With every person I helped, the skepticism in Fairhope began to fade, replaced by something far more valuable: trust.

  By sunset, exhaustion weighed heavy on me, but the sight of relieved faces, easy smiles, and murmured thanks made it worth it. I sat outside my shop that night, staring up at the stars, when Callum strolled up and dropped a bottle of something strong beside me. “You’re a popular man, Gav,” he said with a smirk. I chuckled, rubbing my tired eyes. “Yeah, wasn’t expecting a full crowd on the first day.” He took a swig of his drink before nodding toward the town. “People talk, mate. And you? You gave ’em hope today.” I hadn't thought about it like that, but maybe he was right. In a world where survival had become the only goal, a little comfort—knowing that pain could fade, that sickness could be cured—meant something. Taking a sip, I let the warmth settle in my chest. I wasn’t just passing through this time. Fairhope needed me, and I was starting to think I needed it just as much.

  With each person I helped, Fairhope’s attitude toward me changed.

  People who had eyed me with suspicion when I arrived were now nodding in greeting. Some even started bringing small gifts—a loaf of bread, a carved wooden token, a bundle of dried meat.

  By the time the sun started setting, I was exhausted, but the shop was thriving.

  I was needed here.

  I had a purpose.

  And for the first time since I left Schoolville…

  I felt like I belonged.

  That night, as I sat outside my shop, watching the stars, Callum walked up and dropped a bottle of something strong-smelling beside me.

  “You’re a popular man, Gav,” he said with a smirk.

  I chuckled, rubbing my tired eyes. “Yeah. Wasn’t expecting a full crowd on the first day.”

  Callum sat beside me, cracking open his own drink. “People talk, mate. And you? You gave ‘em hope today.”

  I didn’t answer right away.

  I hadn’t thought about it like that.

  Hope.

  I was just helping where I could. But maybe, in a world like this, even something as small as breathing easier or healing an old wound was enough to remind people that life didn’t have to be suffering.

  That tomorrow could still be better.

  I took a sip of the drink and exhaled, letting the warmth settle in my chest.

  Yeah. This was good.

  And I wasn’t going anywhere.