The forest did not return to normal after the dragon's departure.
Even hours later, an unnatural tension lingered in the air. The usual rustling of larger animals was absent. No deer wandered near the clearings. No boars tore through the underbrush. It was as if the entire woodland held its breath.
Mike and Tork continued deeper along familiar paths, scanning for movement, studying the ground, reading the silence.
But the silence told its own story.
"They are hiding," Tork muttered at one point, crouching beside a set of old tracks that led nowhere. "Anything with sense crawled into burrows the moment it felt that takeoff."
By midday, they had seen nothing worth loosing an arrow at.
Until a sharp squeal broke the quiet.
Tork's hand shot out, signaling stillness.
A small creature darted between roots ahead of them. At first glance it looked like a rabbit, but two short, curved horns protruded from its forehead, giving it a strange, almost defiant appearance despite its size.
Another followed behind it.
Mike reacted faster this time. He inhaled, steadied his stance the way Tork had shown him this morning, and released.
The arrow struck clean.
By the end of the afternoon, they had managed to catch three horned rabbits.
They were known in the village for their taste. Tender, slightly sweet meat that absorbed herbs well when cooked. But they were small. Too small. Skin and bone made up most of their weight.
"Villagers prefer deer," Mike said as he lifted one by its hind legs.
"Villagers prefer quantity," Tork corrected. "Taste does not fill stomachs."
It was clear that the dragon's presence had emptied the forest of anything larger. No hoof prints, no heavy disturbances in brush. Only the faint signs of creatures that knew when to disappear.
By the time they returned to Ediera, the sun was already leaning westward.
Mike expected to be dismissed again.
Instead, Tork stopped him near the storage shed behind his house.
"Stay," Tork said simply.
Mike adjusted his grip on the rabbits. "Yes."
They moved to a wooden table darkened by years of use. Tork laid one rabbit down and drew a short, curved knife from his belt.
"If you hunt," Tork said, "you must respect what you take. That means using it properly."
He showed Mike where to cut first. How to avoid puncturing organs. How to peel the skin carefully without tearing it. His movements were efficient, almost mechanical, yet precise.
"Slow," Tork said when Mike's hands moved too quickly. "Rushing wastes meat."
The process was not pleasant. Warmth still lingered beneath the fur. The smell of iron filled the air. But Mike forced himself to focus.
This was part of it.
Strength was not just drawing a bow.
It was doing what followed.
When they finished, the meat was set aside, the skins stretched for drying.
Mike wiped his hands on a cloth, exhaustion settling into him again. But something else lingered in his mind.
The dragon.
Before leaving, he turned toward Tork.
"How can something like that exist?"
Tork paused while cleaning his blade.
"Like what?"
"The dragon. How can it be that strong? That big? It shook the ground just by flying."
Tork did not answer immediately. He stared at the knife in his hand as if the reflection might give him words.
"There are things I do not know," he admitted finally. "But I know this."
He sheathed the blade.
"There is an energy in this world. It has always been here. We call it mana."
Mike listened carefully.
"Everything has some connection to it. Trees. Beasts. Even us. But most creatures only live beside it. Some adapt to it. And a few learn to wield it."
"Like the dragon?"
"Yes. Creatures like that are born close to mana. It strengthens them. Changes them. Makes them more than flesh and bone."
Mike frowned slightly. "So it is not just big. It is… enhanced?"
"In a way," Tork replied. "Mana can reinforce the body. Sharpen senses. Harden scales. Strengthen muscle beyond what should be possible."
Mike's thoughts raced. "Can humans use it?"
Tork looked at him, measuring something in his expression.
"Yes."
That single word felt heavier than anything said that day.
"There are humans as strong as that dragon," Tork continued. "Some are mages. They shape mana into spells. Fire. Ice. Lightning. Others are knights or warriors who infuse their bodies and weapons with it. There are many paths."
Mike's pulse quickened.
"Have you seen one?"
"Once," Tork said quietly. "Long ago. A mage passed through this region. He froze a river in seconds."
Mike tried to imagine it.
"Why are there none here?"
"There are some," Tork said. "But our region produces more mages than knights. Something about the land, they say. I do not know why."
He crossed his arms.
"When you turn fourteen, you will take a blood test. Everyone does."
"A blood test?"
"They draw blood and measure its reaction to mana. It shows affinity. Talent. Potential."
"And if you have talent?"
"You may be accepted into one of the schools. Institutions built to train those who can wield it properly."
Mike felt his heart pounding now.
"And if you do not?"
"Then you live as most do. Farmer. Craftsman. Hunter."
The words were not cruel. Just factual.
Mike looked toward the darkening forest beyond the village.
The dragon ruled that sky.
But somewhere in the world, humans existed who could stand equal to it.
Mana.
An invisible force that shaped monsters and men alike.
He flexed his injured arm unconsciously.
Fourteen.
Two more years.
For the first time since seeing the dragon, he did not feel entirely small.
Not if there was a path.
Not if strength could be learned.