Val winced as his boot jolted down awkwardly over a stone, sending a fresh wave of pain through his half-healed wounds. Two days on the road had done little to ease the physical toll of battle. He sent a tendril of aether down to keep his fatigue from slowing him down.

  Their progress had been agonizingly slow. The wounded required frequent stops, the elderly struggled with the pace, and the children, though resilient, couldn't maintain the marching rhythm of trained soldiers. They'd covered less ground each day than a ranger patrol might in a few hours, but they were moving steadily southward, away from the horror that had consumed Willow Creek.

  Val scanned the horizon for the hundredth time that morning, his eyes catching movement in a distant copse of trees. He tensed until a flock of birds rose from the branches, their wings flashing in the sunlight. Just birds. Not ghouls. Not undead. His shoulders relaxed slightly, though his hand remained close to his sword hilt.

  "See something?" Kaelen asked, his gruff voice cutting through Val's thoughts.

  "Just birds," Val replied, shifting his gaze to the veteran ranger walking beside the wagon.

  The wagon train crested a gentle rise, and Val felt a peculiar sensation wash over him. A subtle warmth in his chest. He straightened, peering ahead, and there it was, the first distant glimpse of Oakspire on the valley floor, the colossal tree rising above the city walls like a sentinel.

  "There it is," someone murmured nearby, the words rippling through the refugee column as more people caught sight of their destination.

  The effect was immediate and profound. Where before the refugees had trudged with heads bowed and shoulders slumped, now backs straightened and faces lifted. Children pointed excitedly, and even the wounded seemed to find new reserves of strength. Hope, Val realized. The sight of Oakspire had kindled hope in these people who had lost everything.

  And something else was happening, something Val felt rather than saw. As they drew closer to the great tree, the warmth in his chest intensified. His aether core, which had felt hollow and depleted since the battle at Willow Creek, began to stir. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing inward, and found that he could cycle ambient aether again, not with his usual facility, but better than the day before.

  "You feel it too," Alea said, appearing beside the wagon. Her red hair was tied back in a practical braid, her face smudged with soot and dust from the road. Despite this, her eyes were bright, more alive than they had been since joining the evacuation.

  Val nodded. "The Oakspire. Its aether is stronger the closer we get."

  "More than that," Alea said, matching her pace to the wagon's crawl. "It's like coming home after a long journey."

  Val understood the sentiment exactly. The Oakspire had always had this effect on aether users, though he'd never been sensitive enough to appreciate it fully before his abilities had developed. Now, with each step that brought them closer to the city, he could feel strength returning to his depleted core.

  He flexed his right hand, noticing with surprise that the pain had diminished considerably. The deep gash that had refused to heal properly was now just an angry red line across his palm. He twisted, testing his ribs, and found the sharp stabbing pain had dulled to a manageable ache.

  "Show us the fire again! Please, Mage Alea!"

  Alea's serious expression cracked into a smile. "Duty calls," she said with a wink, jogging ahead to where a group of children had gathered around one of the wagons.

  Val watched as she held out her palm, concentrating briefly before a small flame danced to life above her hand. The children gasped and clapped as Alea shaped the flame into the form of a tiny bird that fluttered around her fingers before dissolving into sparks. It was a simple trick, one that any fire mage could perform, but it brought delight to children who had seen only destruction and death in recent days.

  "You feel it too?" Kaelen spoke from his side, surprising Val.

  "The Oakspire" Val replied, his eyes still on Alea as she conjured another flame shape for her enthralled audience.

  "Not just the tree," Kaelen said. "You."

  Val turned to the older ranger, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

  Kaelen gestured toward the refugee column. "Look around. The closer we get to the city, the more everyone's spirits lift. Natural enough. But it started before we saw Oakspire, right about when you rejoined the main group this morning after your scouting run."

  Val hadn't noticed, but now that Kaelen mentioned it, he could see it. The refugees moved with more energy, their conversations more animated. Even the most burdened among them seemed to carry their loads with renewed purpose.

  "Coincidence," Val said, uncomfortable with the implication.

  "Maybe," Kaelen conceded, though his tone suggested he believed otherwise.

  The conversation ended as Captain Alfen strode back from the front of the column, his expression alert but less tense than it had been for days.

  "Scouts report the road ahead is clear all the way to the city," he announced. "And there's a welcoming party coming out to meet us."

  Val squinted into the distance and saw figures moving toward them from the direction of Oakspire, a sizable group, from what he could make out at this distance.

  "Two ranger companies, healers, laborers, and supply wagons."

  The news spread quickly through the column, raising spirits further. Val could feel the collective relief like a physical force, washing through the refugees in a wave of renewed energy. Children who had been trudging listlessly now skipped ahead, and conversations grew louder, more hopeful.

  "They're not taking any chances," Kaelen observed, noting the disciplined formation of the approaching rangers. "Full combat readiness."

  "After what happened at Willow Creek, I'd be surprised if they weren't," Val replied.

  The two groups met a half-mile from Oakspire's gates, in a broad meadow where the road widened. Val recognized several faces among the approaching rangers, members of Companies Three and Seven.

  A ranger in a captain's insignia rode forward to meet Alfen, while the healers immediately moved among the refugees, identifying the most severely wounded for immediate treatment. The laborers began organizing the transfer of supplies from their wagons to the refugee column, distributing fresh water, bread, and dried meat.

  Val dismounted from the wagon, stretching muscles stiffened by inactivity. His body responded better than expected, the lingering injuries from the battle healing rapidly now that he was so close to the Oakspire. He rolled his shoulders, testing the limits of his recovery, and found that while he wasn't completely healed, he was in significantly better shape than he had any right to be.

  "Ranger Valtha," a familiar voice called, and Val turned to see Sera Leaf approaching.

  The middle-aged healer had been a regular at Barret's tavern for years, often sharing a drink with Val when he returned from patrols. Now she wore the formal robes of her order, her expression professional but warm as she assessed him with a practiced eye.

  "You look like you've been through the Deadlands and back," she said, gesturing for him to sit on a nearby crate.

  "Feels like it," Val admitted, complying with her silent instruction.

  Sera placed her hands on his shoulders, closing her eyes in concentration. Val felt the gentle pulse of life aether flowing from her fingers, probing his injuries with practiced precision.

  "Impressive healing already underway," she murmured, sounding surprised.

  "Is that normal?" Val asked, remembering Kaelen's observations about his effect on the refugees.

  Sera's eyes opened, studying him with renewed interest. "Normal? No. But then, nothing has been normal recently, has it?" She smiled to soften the words.

  As he worked, Val noticed something strange. People seemed to brighten as he approached, their movements becoming more energetic, their expressions more animated. Children who had been listless perked up, and adults straightened from their exhausted slouches. At first, he attributed it to the general mood of relief at reaching Oakspire, but as the pattern repeated with each new group he assisted, he couldn't deny the correlation.

  "It's not subtle," Alea said, appearing at his elbow as he helped distribute bread to a family of five. "You're practically radiating life aether."

  Val handed the last piece of bread to a wide-eyed little girl before turning to Alea. "I'm not doing anything consciously."

  "I know," she said, lowering her voice.

  Val frowned. "Is that dangerous?"

  "Dangerous? No. Unusual? Extremely." Alea glanced around to ensure no one was listening too closely. "Most aether users have to concentrate to cycle even their primary affinity. What you're doing should take years of training, deliberate practice and intent."

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  The implications of her words settled uncomfortably in Val's mind. First the unprecedented power during the battle at Willow Creek, and now this passive cycling. Whatever had happened to him, it was becoming increasingly clear that it wasn't a one-time occurrence.

  "We should get moving," Val said, eager to change the subject.

  Alea gave him a look that said she recognized his deflection but wouldn't press the issue.

  The refugee column reorganized with the help of the fresh rangers and laborers, moving with renewed purpose toward Oakspire. Val found himself walking alongside a wagon carrying children too young or too weak to make the final leg of the journey on foot. Alea walked on the other side, occasionally producing small flame sculptures to entertain the children; birds, rabbits, even a miniature dragon that "flew" around the wagon before dissolving into harmless sparks.

  "You're good with them," Val observed during a lull in her performance.

  Alea shrugged, but her smile was genuine. "Children are easier than adults. They haven't learned to hide their wonder yet."

  The city walls came into view next, solid stone reinforced with timber from the surrounding forests. Guards patrolled the battlements, their armor gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The East Gate stood open, flanked by the distinctive towers that housed Oakspire's guards on duty.

  The wounded were separated and taken directly to healing centers established in large tents just inside the walls. The elderly and children were guided to communal shelters, while those with useful skills; blacksmiths, carpenters, farmers, and the like were directed to specific quarters where their abilities could be put to immediate use.

  Val watched the process with a mixture of approval and surprise. The last refugee crisis he'd witnessed had been chaotic, with people left to fend for themselves in overcrowded conditions. This operation showed planning and foresight.

  "Impressive," he admitted to Alea.

  "The Order of the Leaf took charge of coordination," she explained. "They argued that caring for refugees was part of their sacred duty to preserve life. The council couldn't very well refuse without looking impious."

  Val smiled at the political maneuvering.

  As they passed through the East Gate, the full extent of Oakspire's transformation became apparent. The Lower City, normally a maze of narrow streets and crowded markets, had been reorganized. Food distribution centers operated at major intersections, with orderly lines of citizens receiving their allotments. Guard posts had been established at strategic points, manned by soldiers in the distinctive blue and silver of Oakspire's city guard. Healing centers run by the Order of the Leaf had sprung up near the gates, treating not only the wounded but also providing preventative care to maintain the population's health.

  Most striking of all was the mood. Despite the clear preparations for war, there was none of the panic Val had expected. People moved with purpose, their faces determined rather than afraid. Children still played in the streets, though now under the watchful eyes of organized neighborhood watches. Merchants still called their wares, though many had shifted their inventory to focus on practical necessities rather than luxuries.

  "It's not what I expected," Val admitted as they made their way deeper into the city.

  "What did you expect?" Alea asked.

  "Panic. Hoarding. Everyone looking out for themselves." Val gestured to a group of citizens working together to reinforce a building's foundations. "Not... cooperation."

  "You underestimate people," Alea said, nudging his shoulder gently. "When the threat is clear and the leadership is unified, most rise to the occasion."

  They reached a major intersection where the refugee column began to disperse, directed to various parts of the city according to the processing they'd received at the gate. Captain Alfen gathered the remaining rangers, his expression weary but satisfied.

  "Well done, all of you," he said, his voice pitched to carry to the small group without shouting. "We've completed our mission. The refugees are safely delivered to Oakspire."

  A murmur of relief passed through the gathered rangers. Small victory though it was, in the face of everything they'd lost, it still meant something.

  Alfen continued. "Rest tonight. We reconvene at dawn in two days." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the haggard faces of his rangers. "I know we've lost friends and comrades. There will be time to mourn them properly. But know this, what you did at Willow Creek and on this journey saved thousands of lives. Remember that in the dark hours."

  With that, he dismissed them. The rangers dispersed, moving in small groups toward the barracks or healing centers. Val looked for Elara, hoping to speak with her before they separated, but she was nowhere to be seen. One of the other rangers mentioned seeing her leave with the Order of the Leaf healers, likely to assist with the wounded at their temple.

  "She'll be fine," Kaelen said, reading his concern. "The Order has been trying to recruit her for years. They'll take good care of her."

  Val nodded, shelving his disappointment. Elara was an exceptional healer; it made sense that the Order would want her expertise, especially with so many wounded to treat. They would reconnect later.

  "Come on," Alea said, tugging at his sleeve. "My father will skin us both if we don't stop by the tavern. And admit it we could all use a proper meal and a drink."

  The prospect of food that hadn't been cooked over a campfire and actual ale instead of water purified with iodine tablets was too tempting to resist. He bid goodbye to Kaelen and Val allowed Alea to lead him through the familiar streets toward The Burning Branch.

  The tavern, like everything else in Oakspire, had adapted to the new reality. A sign outside announced that the establishment was an official food distribution point for the neighborhood. The warm light spilling from its windows and the sounds of conversation and occasional laughter suggested that it maintained its status as a gathering place for the community.

  Barret Faet spotted them the moment they stepped through the door, his broad face breaking into a grin that momentarily erased the new worry lines etched around his eyes. He bellowed Alea's name, emerging from behind the bar with surprising speed for a man of his size, engulfing his daughter in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet.

  "Put me down, you old bear!" Alea protested, though her smile betrayed her pleasure at the reunion.

  Barret complied, setting her down only to turn his attention to Val. "And you! Looking like you've been dragged behind a wagon for a week!" He clasped Val's forearm in a firm grip, then pulled him into a brief but powerful embrace. "Good to see you in one piece, son."

  "Mostly one piece," Val corrected with a tired smile.

  "Nothing a good meal won't help fix," Barret declared, ushering them to a table near the hearth where the tavern's namesake, a branch that seemed to burn without being consumed, cast a warm glow over the worn wooden surface. "Sit. Both of you. Food and drink coming right up."

  Barret returned with two mugs of amber ale, placing them on the table with a flourish. "On the house. Consider it payment for keeping my wildfire of a daughter from burning down the valley."

  Alea rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. "I was perfectly in control the entire time, Father."

  "That'll be the day," Barret snorted, winking at Val. "Food's coming. We're on rations like everyone else, but I've got a secret stash of proper seasonings. You won't go hungry on my watch."

  As Barret returned to the kitchen, Val took a long drink of ale, savoring the familiar taste. It was a simple pleasure, but after days of danger and deprivation, it felt like luxury.

  "Good to be home?" Alea asked, watching him over the rim of her mug.

  "Good to be alive," Val corrected, though he had to admit that the tavern, with its well-worn comfort and familiar faces, did feel like a homecoming of sorts.

  Barret returned with bowls of stew, a hearty mixture of vegetables and rabbit, seasoned with herbs that made Val's mouth water in anticipation. He accompanied this with a loaf of dark bread, still warm from the oven, and a small crock of butter.

  "Eat," he commanded, pulling up a chair to join them. "Then you can tell me everything."

  They ate in appreciative silence for several minutes, the simple meal tasting better than any feast Val could remember. Only when their initial hunger had been satisfied did Barret lean forward, his expression growing serious.

  "Now, what really happened out there? "Willow creek?" Barret asked, his voice softening.

  "Gone," Val said simply, the word heavy with all it implied. "Everyone who survived is here now."

  Barret closed his eyes briefly, a silent acknowledgment of the loss. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady. "The rumors are already running wild."

  Val's discomfort must have shown on his face, because Alea quickly changed the subject, launching into a detailed account of the journey from Willow Creek to Oakspire that omitted any mention of Val's unusual abilities. Barret allowed the diversion, though his eyes occasionally flickered to Val with thoughtful consideration.

  As Alea spoke, Val felt the day's exhaustion finally catching up with him. The warm food, the ale, the relative safety of the tavern, all combined to lower the guard he'd maintained for days. His eyelids grew heavy, and he had to fight to focus on the conversation.

  Barret noticed, of course. He'd spent decades observing people in his tavern, reading the signs of their condition with uncanny accuracy. "You need rest," he said, cutting off Alea mid-sentence. "Both of you."

  "I'm fine," Val protested automatically, even as a yawn betrayed him.

  "Of course you are," Barret said dryly. "And I'm the High Elder of Oakspire." He rose from his chair, his tone brooking no argument. "Alea, your room is exactly as you left it. Val, yours is down the hall if you want it."

  The offer was tempting. The tavern had been Val's second home growing up, and after his parents died, Barret had always kept a room available for him when he was in the city. But tonight, despite his exhaustion, Val felt a need to return to his own small house. Perhaps it was a desire for solitude after days surrounded by others, or simply the pull of familiar surroundings.

  "Thank you, but I should go home," Val said, rising from the table. "It's not far, and I could use the walk to clear my head."

  Barret looked like he might argue, but instead nodded in understanding. "Your choice. But know you're welcome here anytime. Day or night."

  "And don't forget," Alea added, "you agreed join me at the academy tomorrow."

  Val nodded, suppressing another yawn. "I don't remember agreeing for tomorrow but I'll be there." He clasped forearms with Barret. "Thank you for the meal. And everything else."

  "Anytime, son," Barret replied, his grip firm and reassuring.

  Val managed a tired smile and turned to leave, only to find Alea rising to accompany him to the door.

  "You don't have to—" he began.

  "Shut up and accept the escort," she interrupted with a familiar exasperation. "You look like you might fall asleep standing up."

  They stepped outside into the cool evening air. The streets were emptier now, with curfew approaching for non-essential personnel. The moon had risen, casting silver light over the city and illuminating the massive silhouette of the Oakspire at its center. Even in darkness, the great tree emanated a sense of presence that seemed to fill the valley.

  "Will you be alright?" Alea asked as they paused at the crossroads where their paths would diverge.

  Val nodded, too tired for pretense. "I just need sleep. Real sleep, in a real bed."

  "And tomorrow?"

  "I'll be there!" Val said with exasperation, giving in to her persistence.

  Alea studied him for a moment, then embraced him briefly. "Rest well, Val. You've earned it."

  With that, she turned and headed back toward the tavern, her red hair gleaming like copper in the moonlight. Val watched until she disappeared inside, then turned toward home, his boots scuffing against the familiar cobblestones of Oakspire's streets.

  His small house stood exactly as he'd left it. Val lit a lamp with practiced movements, illuminating the simple living space. A table and two chairs occupied the main room, along with a bookshelf containing the few volumes he'd collected over the years. Through a doorway, he could see his bedroom with its narrow but comfortable bed, the blankets still neatly folded from the last time he'd made it.

  He moved through the house, opening windows to let in the night air, brushing dust from surfaces, reacquainting himself with the space. It felt both familiar and strange, as if he were returning not just to a place he'd left but to a life he'd somehow outgrown.

  As he prepared for bed, Val caught a glimpse of himself in the small mirror above his washbasin. The face that looked back at him was thinner, harder, marked by new lines of strain around the eyes and mouth. The battle at Willow Creek had changed him, not just through whatever had happened with his aether core, but in more fundamental ways.

  He thought of Jorin, of Mira, of all those who hadn't made it back. Outside his window, the massive silhouette of the Oakspire dominated the skyline, its presence a reminder of everything they were fighting to preserve. Val felt his aether core respond to its proximity, a warm pulse of energy that seemed to synchronize with his heartbeat.