The cottage smelled like dried herbs and smoke. The air was warm, thick with the scent of something boiling in a pot near the hearth. I stood just inside the doorway, unsure of what to do next. The woman—Mother Gwill—moved slowly, but with purpose. She didn't look surprised to see me. That made me nervous.
She pointed to a wooden chair by the fire. "Sit."
I obeyed.
She didn't ask questions at first. She just stirred her pot and dropped in what looked like dried roots and a red mushroom. The flames crackled under the iron cauldron.
After a few minutes, she spoke. "You're not him. Not really."
I looked up. "Not who?"
"Kael Thorne. The Warlock of Thorns. The forest knows him. The trees remember. The air recoils from his touch." Her eyes narrowed. "You wear his body, boy. But your soul is foreign."
I felt my blood turn cold. She knew.
That was atypical as normally NPCs have no idea about someone like reincarnation from another world and such.
"I didn't ask for this," I said. "I woke up in his body. I don't know how. But I know what happens to him. I'm not trying to hurt anyone. I just want to survive."
Mother Gwill gave a slow nod, as if she was expecting that answer. "Then you're already smarter than he was. He thought himself untouchable."
She turned away and poured a thick, green liquid into a wooden cup.
She handed it to me.
"Drink."
"What is it?"
"Not poison."
That didn't really answer the question, but I was too tired to argue. I drank. It tasted like dirt and fire.
Warmth spread through my chest. My headache faded. The pulsing of the cursed Grimoire in my bag lessened.
Mother Gwill sat across from me. Her hands were gnarled and spotted with age, but her eyes were sharp.
"You say you want to live. That's not easy here. Not in the Hollow Vale."
"I know. The hero party is coming. They'll be here in three days."
She raised an eyebrow. "And how would you know that?"
I hesitated. Then I told her the truth. Not all of it—but enough. That I knew this world as a story. That I knew what would happen to Kael. That I wasn't him, but someone who took his place.
She didn't interrupt. When I finished, she let out a long sigh.
"A soul out of place. A tale repeating. This forest is full of strange things, but you may be the strangest yet."
I looked at her carefully. "Are you going to turn me in?"
"To who? The Vale eats messengers. Besides, if what you say is true, then letting you die might doom us all. The hero party thinks they know what they're doing. They don't."
She stood and walked to a shelf full of bottles.
"If you want to live, you need more than luck. You need power. But more than that—you need control."
She pulled a small black vial from the shelf and handed it to me.
"What's this?"
"Ink of binding. Used for taming cursed texts. It won't stop the Grimoire, but it can slow it. If you mark your skin with it, the corruption will spread slower."
I took the vial and nodded. "Thank you."
She turned back to her pot. "You'll need to leave by morning. The spirits grow restless at dawn. Stay hidden. Don't draw attention. And whatever you do, don't use the Grimoire unless you have no other choice."
"Why?"
She looked at me, her face serious. "Because each time you cast from it, it learns you. It wraps around your soul like a vine. And once it knows you completely, you won't be you anymore."
I sat in silence, the weight of her words pressing down on me.
That night, I slept near the fire. I had strange dreams—whispers in languages I didn't know, shadows crawling under my skin, and a great tree made of bones standing in a field of screaming faces.
When I woke, the sun was rising.
Mother Gwill was gone.
She had left a bundle for me: bread, dried meat, a small knife, and a map drawn on old parchment. There was also a note:
Head west. There's a cave beyond the Weeping Stones. Stay there until the third day. Do not go into the village. They will smell your curse.
I tucked the map into my cloak and stepped outside.
The forest felt more alive than before. The trees groaned. The wind whispered my name.
I started walking west.
The Weeping Stones were just as I remembered from the book—tall gray pillars that cried black water. No one knew why. The ground around them was always muddy, and strange flowers grew there, petals shaped like mouths.
I moved quickly, not stopping to rest. The sky was gray now, and the sun barely broke through the clouds. Crows circled above.
By evening, I found the cave.
It was small but deep, hidden behind a curtain of moss. Inside, it smelled like damp earth and old bones. I lit a small fire and sat near the entrance, eating slowly from the bundle Mother Gwill gave me.
The Grimoire pulsed again.
You run well, little thief.
I ignored it.
You fear me. That's good. Open me. Use me.
I pulled the book from my bag. The cloth I had wrapped it in was soaked with black stains now.
I stared at it.
"One spell," I whispered. "Just one. To prepare."
The book opened by itself. Pages turned. A spell appeared.
Warding Circle: Bind lesser spirits, delay greater ones. Requires blood and iron.
I had the knife. I had no iron.
Still, I memorized the pattern. I could draw it if I had to. It might buy me a few seconds if the hero party found me early. Or worse—if the Hollow Vale sent its monsters first.
I closed the book.
Night fell.
The fire burned low.
And I waited.
Three days.
Three days to survive.
Three days until the real story began.
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And so, chapter 2 is done.
So here I am thanking you for taking yout precious time to read this and your patience.
See you in the next one!