Zayn and his sister walked slowly along the stone path leading out of the village. The sky was clear, the air quiet—but there was a restless spark inside Zayn. Today was market day. A day of excitement… and opportunity.

"So," Zayn said with a sly grin, "are you going to be a mage? Or maybe a warrior? Or... a chicken farmer?"

His sister shot him a stern look. "I told you, I want to be a healer."

"Hm… A healer… So you'll pass out every time you see blood?"

She nudged him in the ribs. "I'm older than you. Show some respect."

Zayn laughed. "That's exactly why I tease you."

Their playful bickering continued along the way. When they reached the market, the place was alive with noise and motion. The aroma of spices, the calls of merchants, the laughter of children—it was a vibrant chaos.

As they browsed the fabric stall together, Zayn's eyes locked onto a group of teens nearby. The same ones who had harassed his sister weeks ago. She noticed them too but said nothing. Just like last time.

Zayn said nothing either. He helped her shop, changed the subject. But his jaw clenched ever so slightly.

"Think I'll walk around a bit," he said a while later. "I want to check out some of the woodworking stalls."

His sister nodded and turned toward another stand. Zayn took a deep breath. He walked back toward the center of the market, pulled a small charm from his pocket—nothing special, just a basic distraction spell. With a small flick of his hand, a basket suddenly tipped over, releasing a flurry of chickens into the crowd.

People shouted, scattered. All attention shifted.

Zayn slipped away unnoticed.

He had seen one of the bullies leave the market and head into the alleys behind it. Quiet footsteps. No hesitation.

The boy paused, sensing something—but kept walking. Zayn closed the distance and stepped behind him.

With one swift motion, he drove a dagger into the boy's leg. Not deep enough to kill, but enough to make him scream and collapse.

Zayn crouched beside him, voice cold and calm.

> "I'm only warning you once. Touch my sister again… and next time I won't miss."

The boy trembled, too terrified to speak.

> "And if you tell anyone about this," Zayn whispered closer, "you won't have time to regret it. Do you understand me?"

The boy nodded frantically, eyes brimming with tears.

At that moment, the other boys appeared, shouting as they ran toward Zayn.

But he was ready.

No rage. No panic. Just silence.

He twisted the first one's arm and threw him to the ground. Another took a knee to the gut. Zayn didn't use his dagger again—he didn't need to. His fists and feet struck with brutal accuracy. Within seconds, they were all writhing on the ground.

He stepped over them and faced the first boy again.

> "There's more where that came from. But this is enough... for today."

Then he turned and walked away. No pride. No guilt. Just silence.

By the time he rejoined the crowd, his face was calm. His sister showed him some herbs she had picked up, chatting happily.

Zayn nodded, walking beside her.

No one suspected a thing.

But the first boy… he understood.

He understood perfectly.

As Zayn turned back to his sister Lira, his eyes were still drawn to the glimmering stones on the cloth-covered stand. There was something strange about them—something… familiar. But he couldn't tell why.

"They look beautiful," he said, trying to sound casual. "Can you buy one for me?"

Lira chuckled softly, brushing her hand through his messy hair. "They're pretty expensive, Zayn. We don't have that kind of money right now."

Zayn didn't say anything. He just kept staring.

Just then, the old man behind the stand leaned closer, his eyes twinkling under bushy gray eyebrows.

"You have a good eye, little one," he said with a deep, gravelly voice. "Most people pass by, blind to what matters. But not you."

Zayn blinked, unsure how to respond.

The old man grinned. "I'll tell you what. If you can solve a riddle, I'll give you one of those stones. Free of charge."

Lira looked surprised. "You don't have to do that—"

But the old man raised a wrinkled hand. "Let the boy try. Fair's fair."

He leaned in, lowering his voice.

"I fly without wings. I cry without eyes. Wherever I go, darkness flies. What am I?"

Just then, his sister, who had been quietly standing beside him, stepped forward. She looked the old man in the eyes and calmly spoke the answer.

The old man's eyes widened for a moment. The mocking smile froze on his lips.

"That... is correct," he whispered. His gaze slowly dropped to the girl's hands. "So the answer was hidden in you, young lady. How... curious."

Zayn froze for a second—then burst into laughter, throwing his head back. "I—spent all that effort, and she solved it with one sentence!" he said between laughs. When he looked at his sister, he saw her watching him with a quiet smile.

The old man carefully took out the stone. His trembling fingers revealed a faint, pulsating glow from within it. "As promised," he said, placing the stone gently into her palm. "This stone called out to you. Don't ignore that. These things... they never happen without reason."

Zayn paused. His eyes locked onto the stone. For a moment, time felt as if it had stopped. Then, as if he understood something that only he could grasp, he looked away.

After taking the stones and leaving the market, Zayn and his sister began the journey back to their village. The road was calm, with only the sound of their footsteps on the dirt path and the occasional chirping of birds in the distance.

As they walked, Zayn reached into his pocket, took out the single polished stone, and gently handed it to his sister.

"Happy birthday," he said softly, avoiding eye contact for a moment. "I wanted to get this for you."

His sister looked at the stone, surprised. "But you... you didn't have any money. How did you…?"

Zayn shrugged with a slight smile. "Let's just say you were amazing with that riddle. But this isn't just a shiny stone. If you truly want to become a healer... you'll need something like this one day."

She raised an eyebrow, studying his expression. "And you know this how?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stopped walking, turned to face her, and asked a single question:

"Do you want to learn? Yes or no?"

His tone was calm, but something in his eyes was serious—older, almost distant.

She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

"Good," he said, and began walking again.

A moment later, he added, without looking back, "But don't tell anyone about this. Not yet."

His sister looked down at the stone in her hand, still not fully understanding what had just happened, but feeling that something important had begun.