The morning training left my arms sore, but it was a good kind of pain—the kind that reminded me I was alive. That I had a second chance.
But training wasn't everything.
Before I left for the academy, there was something just as important.
That was spending time with my family.
When I walked back inside, the scent of freshly baked bread filled the air. Mom stood by the counter, kneading dough, her hands dusted in flour.
She glanced at me and smiled. "Caspian, could you fetch some firewood?"
I hesitated for just a second. In my past life, I had never paid attention to these small requests. I had always been too focused on the academy, on training, on war.
Now, I understood.
I grabbed the axe and stepped outside.
The pile of logs sat against the side of the house, neatly stacked. I set one on the chopping block, raised the axe, and brought it down.
A clean split.
Again.
And again.
By the time I finished, sweat dripped down my back. I wiped my forehead, gathered the chopped wood, and carried it inside.
Mom looked at me as I placed the firewood by the hearth. "You're working hard today."
I just nodded. "It feels good."
She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Your father will be glad to hear that."
Not long after, my father walked in, stretching his arms.
"Caspian," he said, "grab your bow. We're going hunting."
I blinked. "Now?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You're leaving tomorrow. If we don't do it today, when will we?"
He was right. I grabbed my boots and bow and followed him out the door.
The forest was quiet except for the occasional rustling of leaves. The air smelled of damp earth and pine. I hadn't gone hunting in years, but my hands still remembered the weight of the bow.
After a while, we spotted a rabbit.
Father gestured for me to take the shot.
I pulled back the string, steadying my breath. My fingers felt stiff—it had been too long since I last held a bow.
I exhaled and released.
The arrow flew straight, striking the rabbit cleanly.
Father gave me an approving nod. "Not bad."
I bent down, picking up the rabbit. The warmth was still fading from its body. I had seen so much death in my past life, yet this felt different. More real.
We bagged two more before heading back.
By midday, we arrived at the market. The streets were filled with people—merchants shouting their wares, the scent of fresh bread and spices drifting through the air.
Father led me toward a blacksmith's stall.
"Pick one," he said.
I frowned. "What?"
He gestured to the rows of swords hanging behind the counter. "You need a proper weapon for the academy."
I hesitated, my hands tightening at my sides.
In my past life, I had used swords, daggers, spears—whatever was needed. But now, after training with the cane again, I wasn't sure.
Father must have noticed. "What's wrong?"
I exhaled. "I… don't know if I need one."
He studied me for a moment before speaking. "You trained with swords before, didn't you?"
I nodded.
"Then why the doubt?"
I hesitated before answering. "The cane feels more natural to me."
Father didn't seem surprised. "That's because it was the first weapon you ever used."
I looked at him. "Then why did you give me a wooden sword back then?"
His lips curled into a small smile. "Because you wanted to go to the military academy. And I wanted you to have options."
Options.
Back then, I had been so focused on learning "proper" weapons that I had ignored what felt natural.
I turned back to the swords. Even if the cane was my main weapon, I still needed a sword.
After a moment, I reached out and picked up a simple steel longsword. Well-balanced, not too heavy.
"This one," I said.
Father nodded, handing the blacksmith a few coins. "A good choice."
We spent the next hour gathering supplies—clothes, dried meat—before heading home.
Dinner was quiet. Mom made my favorite stew, but I barely tasted it. My mind was already on the academy.
I would leave at dawn.
As I sat at the table, I glanced at my parents. They were talking, but their voices felt distant.
This was the last time I'd be here for a long time.
I gripped my spoon tightly. I wouldn't waste this chance.
This time, I would be ready.
No matter what it took.
___
The night air was cool as I stood outside, staring at the familiar landscape of home. The wooden fence, the old oak tree, the small shed where I used to hide when I didn't want to do chores—it was all the same. But after tonight, I wouldn't see it again for a long time.
I tightened my grip on the cane in my right hand, the newly bought sword hanging at my waist. My bag, filled with clothes and dried meat, rested on my back.
Tomorrow, I'd be at the Greyfort Military Academy.
This time, things would be different.
I stepped back inside. My father was at the table, sharpening a small hunting knife, while my mother stood by the fireplace, stirring a pot of tea.
They both looked up as I entered.
Father set the knife down. "You're leaving soon."
I nodded. "Yeah."
Mom's hands tightened around the wooden spoon. "You don't have to go tonight, Caspian. You could leave at dawn."
I exhaled. "If I wait until morning, I won't make it in time."
She didn't argue, but I saw the worry in her eyes.
Father leaned back in his chair. "You have everything?"
"Yeah. Clothes, food, weapons."
He nodded. "Good."
There was a long silence.
Then Mom wiped her hands on her apron and pulled me into a hug.
"Eat well. Sleep when you can. Don't push yourself too hard," she said, her voice thick with emotion.
I closed my eyes for a moment, holding onto the warmth.
"I will," I whispered.
When she pulled back, she forced a small smile. "Write to us when you get there."
"I will."
Father stood up, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. His grip was strong, steady.
"Trust yourself," he said. "And don't hesitate when it matters."
I met his gaze and nodded. "I won't."
He stepped back, picking up something from the table. A small leather pouch.
"Here." He tossed it to me.
I caught it and opened it. Inside were a handful of silver coins.
"Dad—"
"Take it," he said. "Just in case."
I swallowed and tightened my grip on the pouch before slipping it into my bag. "Thank you."
He nodded once, then crossed his arms. "Go on, then. Before your mother makes you stay."
Mom shot him a glare, but there was no real anger behind it.
I smiled slightly, adjusting the strap on my shoulder.
Then, with one last look at them, I turned toward the door.
The road stretched before me, dark and quiet. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of insects.
With each step, the house faded into the distance.
I walked for hours, my mind racing.
I thought about the academy. About the trials ahead. About everything I needed to fix.
My grip tightened around the cane.
I wasn't the same clueless boy walking into that school for the first time.
This time, I knew what was coming.