STRANGE MAGIC

EVENING RETURN

The next morning came bright and calm over Mentliway. Darren woke early, full of joy and energy. The golden light of sunrise touched his window, and a gentle breeze drifted through the small house. He stretched, washed quickly, and began his usual morning chores.

He swept the front yard, fetched water from the well, and helped tidy the small shed beside the house. He moved fast, humming softly to himself, his mind already set on the plans he had made with Joran.

When he finished his chores, he wiped his hands on a cloth and looked toward the forge. The tools were still there, the coals cold and quiet from the night before. For a moment, he thought about telling his parents he was going out — but then he shook his head. He didn’t want to delay. He had promised Joran he’d be there early.

Without another word, Darren took his small satchel and stepped out quietly. His mother was still busy inside the house, and his father hadn’t yet come out from his room. He walked quickly down the path that led to Joran’s place.

The morning was peaceful; the sound of birds filled the air. Fields stretched on both sides, glowing in the light of dawn. Darren walked with purpose, his boots crunching against the dirt. His heart was light.

When he arrived, he saw Joran already waiting outside. His friend was dressed neatly, a travel cloak slung over his shoulders, and a small wooden box beside him.

“Ah, Darren! You made it early,” Joran said, smiling. “I was just about to come get you.”

Darren grinned back. “I didn’t want to waste time. You look ready for the movement already.”

“Of course,” Joran replied. “But before we go, come in and eat something. Breakfast’s already set.”

Darren nodded. “Alright then.”

Inside, the small table was filled with simple food — bread, porridge, and warm tea. They sat together, laughing softly at small jokes as they ate. But during their meal, something strange happened.

For a brief moment, the light in the room flickered. The air felt heavier, and a faint wind brushed against the window though it was tightly closed. Both of them paused, glancing around.

“Did you feel that?” Joran asked.

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Darren said quickly. “Just the wind.”

Neither of them spoke about it again. They continued eating, pretending everything was fine, though both felt something odd in the air.

After breakfast, they cleared the table and sat down to discuss their plans. Darren spoke first.

“About the deal,” he said. “Did you manage to get the trader to agree?”

“Yes,” Joran replied. “I talked to him yesterday. He’ll buy the swords at a fair price. We’ll sell them to other kingdoms quietly. He knows people who can move goods across borders without trouble.”

Darren smiled faintly. “That’s good news. We’ve worked hard enough for it.”

They talked for a long while — about prices, delivery times, and the journey the trader would take. Joran even showed Darren a small map of the trade routes beyond the valley. Darren listened carefully, trying to imagine his work reaching faraway lands.

After hours of discussion, they both began to feel tired. The afternoon sun had grown hot, and the sound of insects buzzed outside. Joran leaned back in his chair.

“I think that’s everything,” he said. “The trader will come tomorrow at noon. You should bring one of your best swords — something strong but not too flashy.”

“I will,” Darren said.

He stood and stretched, glancing out the window. The sun was already low in the sky. “I should go,” he said. “If I stay longer, my parents will be angry.”

“Alright,” Joran replied, standing too. “We’ll meet here again tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Darren nodded and left, walking back toward the village. The road was quieter now, shadows growing longer as the sun dipped behind the trees. He felt tired but satisfied. Everything was falling into place — or so he thought.

By the time he reached home, night was beginning to settle over Mentliway. The lamps in the houses glowed softly, and smoke curled up from the chimneys. But as soon as Darren stepped through his own door, he knew something was wrong.

His father was sitting by the table, arms crossed, his face hard and serious. His mother stood beside him, her expression a mix of worry and anger. The moment Darren entered, they both turned toward him.

“Where have you been?” his father demanded, his voice deep and steady.

Darren stopped in his tracks, unsure what to say. “I went to Joran’s house,” he answered quietly. “We were… we were just talking about work.”

“Talking about work?” his mother repeated sharply. “You left at sunrise and returned at sunset without saying a word! Do you think we wouldn’t notice?”

“I’m sorry,” Darren said quickly. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I was only—”

His father stood, cutting him off. “You disobeyed us. You left without permission, and you returned when it was nearly dark. This isn’t the first time, Darren.”

Darren lowered his head. “I just wanted to help… to earn something. I’m not a child anymore.”

His mother sighed, stepping closer. “We know you’re growing, my son. But there are rules for a reason. You must tell us before leaving, especially when you go far.”

“I understand,” Darren said softly. “It won’t happen again.”

There was silence for a while. Then his father finally spoke, his voice calmer. “Come, sit down,” he said. “Eat something before you rest.”

Darren nodded and went to sit at the table. His mother brought him a small plate of food, though the warmth in her eyes had dimmed with worry.

As he ate quietly, a strange stillness filled the room. His father’s gaze drifted toward the forge outside, visible through the open window.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time there,” his father said suddenly. “Working late into the night. Tell me, Darren — what are you forging these days?”

Darren hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer. “Just swords, Father,” he said. “Nothing more.”

His father didn’t reply, but his eyes stayed fixed on him for a long time. Then, at last, he stood and walked toward the doorway.

“You should rest now,” he said. “Tomorrow will be another long day.”

Darren nodded slowly. “Good night, Father.”

But as his father turned away, Darren noticed something — a faint golden reflection on his father’s sleeve, glowing softly in the dim light. He blinked and looked around. The glow was gone, as if it had never been there.

He frowned slightly, his thoughts stirring. Was that from the sword? Or… something else?

The air in the room felt heavy for a moment, then fell silent again. His mother said nothing, only whispered for him to eat and rest.

Darren finished his meal quietly, but his mind refused to settle. He could still see that golden shimmer in his father’s clothes — and somehow, it didn’t feel like a reflection from the forge.

When he finally lay down that night, the wind outside whispered through the open window, carrying a faint hum — the same tone he’d heard once before, when the sword glowed gold.

This time, it was coming from somewhere inside the house.