Planning Session: Evening

Victor - POV

The cottage felt hollow without Mama's humming and baby Naelira's gentle breathing.

Papa and I sat at the kitchen table that had somehow survived the raid, maps spread between us and cold dinner growing stale nearby. Neither of us had much appetite when Mama and Naelira were probably hungry somewhere in the darkness beyond our reach.

My ribs still ached from this morning's test, but the soreness felt different now. Proof I could fight. Evidence I wasn't helpless anymore.

"Blackhaven isn't a town," Papa explained, using his finger to trace routes on the map. "It's a fortress built into the cliffs along the Shadowmere coast. Natural harbor, defensible position, and far enough from any legitimate authority that they can operate without interference."

I studied the coastline he indicated, noting the distances and terrain features. "How many people live there?"

"Maybe three thousand on a normal day. Smugglers, pirates, slavers, mercenaries, anyone who needs to trade in things that civilized places won't tolerate." Papa's expression was grim. "Plus whatever prisoners they're holding for sale."

The word 'prisoners' made my stomach clench. That's what Mama and baby Naelira were now. Not family, not people. Just merchandise waiting to be sold.

"How long to get there?"

"On foot, two weeks if we push hard. But we're not walking." Papa tapped a different location. "First, we go to Millhaven. They have horses we can buy, and I know people there who might be willing to help."

"What kind of help?"

"The kind who know how to fight organized criminals and don't ask too many questions about why." Papa folded the map. "Victor, I want you to understand what we're doing here. We're not just rescuing your mother and sister. We're going to destroy the organization that did this to us. Make sure they can never hurt another family."

The raider I'd killed in Papa's shed came to mind, how his body had hung in the air like gravity forgot about him before the building came down. That felt like destroying things.

"And then we bring everyone home?"

"Then we bring everyone home," Papa confirmed. "All of them. Every person they took from Hearthvale comes back with us. But it won't be easy, and there will be consequences we can't predict yet."

The peaceful life we'd built here filled my thoughts. Working in the forge, helping Mama with her gardens, playing with baby Naelira in the evening sun. All of that was gone now, but maybe we could build a new life from what remained.

"They made the choice for us," I said quietly. "When they took Mama and Naelira, they decided what kind of fight we were going to have."

Papa nodded grimly. "Then we make them regret that choice."

Village Response: Morning of Departure

Victor - POV

The atmosphere in the village square was tense as we prepared to leave.

Some villagers watched me with careful eyes, whispering among themselves about the boy whose magic had attracted this disaster. I caught fragments of conversations: "...never should have hidden it..." "...put us all in danger..." "...what else might happen..."

But Henrik stepped forward, his weathered face stern as he addressed the crowd. "Anyone who wants to blame a child for what grown men chose to do can answer to me," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "Victor didn't ask to be born with magic, and he sure didn't ask for slavers to come hunting him. But he's willing to risk his life to bring our people home."

"Henrik's right," Sarah added, her voice still shaky from grief but determined. "They took my Marcus, took Widow Cora's daughter, took half our families. We can't let that stand."

"I'm going with you," announced Master Willem, despite his injured arm. "These hands can still hold a weapon."

"And me," said young Thomas, the miller's son. "My sister's in those wagons. I'm not leaving her with those animals."

One by one, every man in the village who could still fight stepped forward. Not because they'd forgotten the raiders had come for me, but because they understood our people needed rescuing regardless of how this started.

"We stand together," Henrik said firmly, looking directly at me. "That's what families do."

Warmth and fierce determination settled in my chest. These people had lost everything in one terrible night, yet they were still willing to stand with us. Still willing to fight for each other, even when the odds seemed impossible.

"How many can travel?" Papa asked, assessing the volunteers.

"Eight who can fight," Henrik replied. "Plus you and Victor. Ten total."

"Against fifty professional raiders and whoever else is waiting in Blackhaven," Papa mused. "Not great odds, but I've seen worse."

"When do we leave?" Thomas asked, eager despite the fear in his young eyes.

"First light tomorrow," Papa decided. "We travel light and fast to Millhaven, gather what help we can, then push hard for the coast. Every day we delay is another day our people suffer in chains."

The group dispersed to make their preparations, but Henrik lingered behind. "Gregor," he said quietly, "are you sure about bringing the boy? I know what we saw yesterday, but he's still just seven years old."

Papa looked at me, weighing Henrik's words against what he'd witnessed during our fight. "He's not just a child anymore," Papa said finally. "The magic changed that. And after what he's been through..." He shrugged. "Victor's earned the right to choose his own path."

"And if that path leads him to his death?"

"Then at least he'll die fighting for his family instead of hiding while others do the bleeding." Papa's voice was hard. "I won't take that choice away from him."

Henrik nodded slowly, understanding in his weathered eyes. "Fair enough. But Gregor, watch over him. Whatever he's becoming, he'll need guidance to stay human through it."

Departure and Conversations

Victor - POV

We left Hearthvale as the sun crested the eastern hills, ten people walking away from everything we'd ever called home.

The village looked small and vulnerable in the morning light, its broken buildings and empty houses showing how quickly safety could become memory. But the survivors who remained would rebuild. I could see it in their determined faces as they waved goodbye from the square.

For the first hour, our group walked in contemplative silence, each person lost in thoughts about what lay ahead. We carried light packs, basic weapons, and the kind of grim determination that comes from having nothing left to lose. But as the initial weight of departure settled, conversations began to stir.

"Victor," young Thomas said, falling into step beside me, "that fight with your father yesterday... I've never seen anything like it. The way you moved water and fire at the same time."

Several of the other men glanced over, clearly thinking the same thing but not sure how to ask.

"It was impressive," Master Willem agreed, nursing his injured arm. "I've been around magic users my whole life, but most can barely handle one element properly."

"How long have your abilities been active?" Thomas asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

Discomfort prickled under my skin. "I don't really remember not having them," I admitted. "Aunt Seraphine said I was doing small things with water when I was three or four."

The group went very quiet at that.

"Three years old?" Master Willem whispered. "That's impossible. Most children don't manifest until at least ten, sometimes not until their teens."

Henrik, walking slightly ahead, turned back to join the conversation. "I've been working air and earth magic for over a century," he said, his weathered face thoughtful. "Started learning when I was fifteen, and I'm still discovering new techniques. At my age, one hundred and twelve years, I can control wind patterns and shape earth for the village defenses, but combining four different elements the way you did?" He shook his head with wonder. "That's the kind of natural talent most mages would kill for."

"I'm still young by human standards," Henrik explained with a slight smile. "We can live well over five hundred years if we stay healthy. Most of us don't hit our magical peak until we're past two hundred. But in all my years, I've never seen someone your age handle power like that. Most children can't even light a candle consistently until they're at least ten."

Master Willem nodded. "My cousin's boy has been trying to learn basic earth shaping for three years. He's fifteen, and can barely move a handful of pebbles."

"My water magic didn't show up until I was fourteen," Willem continued, his voice filled with wonder and a touch of fear. "And it took me twenty years of training to reach basic competency. You're controlling four elements at seven, with abilities that manifested when you were a toddler."

The attention made me uncomfortable, but there was also a different quality in their voices. Not just amazement, but hunger. Want.

"Must be nice," Thomas muttered, just loud enough for me to hear. "Having that kind of power."

Papa, who'd been listening from nearby, spoke up with quiet firmness. "Power like Victor's comes with a price, Thomas. Those raiders didn't come for any of us. They came specifically for him, because someone saw his abilities and decided he was worth stealing."

The group fell quiet at that reminder. The jealousy in Thomas's voice faded, replaced by a more complicated emotion.

"I'm sorry," Thomas said quietly. "I didn't mean... it's just hard sometimes. My family's had earth magic for generations, but mine didn't manifest until I was twelve, and even now it's weak."

Henrik's expression had grown troubled. "That explains why the raiders knew to come for you specifically. Early manifestation at that level... there are maybe a handful of documented cases in the past century. You're not just magically gifted, Victor. You're a once in a generation anomaly."

I understood that feeling better than he knew. "It's complicated," I admitted. "Sometimes I love having these abilities. They let me connect with people like Aunt Seraphine and Elira in ways I never could otherwise. But magic also made me different, and different attracted the wrong kind of attention. I wouldn't trade away my abilities, but I wish they didn't make my family a target."

Henrik nodded slowly, understanding in his weathered eyes. "Power always comes with responsibility, lad. The stronger you get, the more people will expect from you. And the more dangerous you become to those who want to use that power for themselves."

The Journey Ahead

Victor - POV

We walked in more comfortable silence after that, carrying our packs and weapons along the dusty trade road. The conversations had helped ease some of the tension, but the weight of our mission still pressed on all our shoulders.

I walked beside Papa, my shorter legs working hard to match his soldier's pace. The weight of my pack felt strange on my shoulders. I'd never traveled farther than neighboring farms, and now we were heading into lands I'd only heard about in stories.

"Nervous?" Papa asked after we'd been walking for an hour.

"Yes," I admitted. "But not about the fighting. About what we'll find when we get there."

"Mama and Naelira will be alive," Papa said firmly. "Slavers don't damage valuable merchandise. They'll be scared and probably hungry, but alive."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I have to be," Papa replied simply. "Some things you believe because you have evidence. Other things you believe because believing is the only way to keep moving forward."

I understood that. The belief that we could save them, that love was stronger than greed, that good could triumph over evil: these weren't facts we could prove. They were choices we made about who we wanted to be and what kind of world we wanted to live in.

"Papa," I said as we crested a hill that gave us our last clear view of Hearthvale, "what if I'm not strong enough? What if my magic isn't enough to save them?"

Papa stopped walking and knelt so we were eye to eye. Around us, the other men paused respectfully, giving us a moment of privacy.

"Victor," Papa said seriously, "your magic isn't what makes you strong. Your heart is. The power just gives you ways to act on what your heart tells you to do." He gripped my shoulders gently. "And your heart is telling you to save your family, no matter what it costs. That's not weakness. That's the strongest thing in the world."

I nodded, feeling some of the fear loosen its grip on my chest. My abilities had brought danger, but they were also what gave me hope of rescuing Mama and Naelira. The same power that had attracted the raiders might be what saved our family.

Whatever happened in Blackhaven, whatever we had to do or become, I wouldn't face it alone. Papa would be there, and Henrik, and all the other men who'd chosen to walk this path with us.

We resumed walking, our boots raising small clouds of dust on the old trade road. Behind us, Hearthvale grew smaller and smaller until it was just another collection of buildings in the distance. Ahead lay Millhaven, and beyond that, the coast where our family waited in chains.

But we were coming for them. Whatever it took, whoever we had to become, we were coming.

I touched the smooth stone in my pocket, Elira's parting gift, carved with a flame inside a circle. For remembering, she'd said. So when you practice your magic, you can think of me watching and being proud of you.

Well, she was going to see magic now. We all were. The abilities that had brought this disaster might also be what ended it. And when this was over, when Mama and Naelira were safe in our arms again, maybe I could show Elira how much I'd grown, not just in power, but in understanding what that power meant.

The road to Millhaven stretched out before us, leading toward danger and unknown enemies. But also toward hope, toward family, toward the chance to prove that some bonds could never be broken by chains or distance or the greed of evil men.

We walked into the morning sun, ten people carrying nothing but weapons, hope, and the unbreakable determination to bring our loved ones home.

Behind us, Hearthvale began its long process of healing. Ahead of us, Blackhaven waited with its secrets and cruelties.

But between those two points lay the journey that would transform us all: from victims into warriors, from the broken into the unbreakable, from ordinary people into harder and more dangerous adversaries than our enemies could imagine.

The boy who had once hidden his magic behind gentle smiles and careful control was walking away from that life forever. In his place moved someone new, still young, still learning, but no longer hiding from what he was or what he could do. The abilities that had once seemed like dangerous secrets were now tools for saving the people he loved most.

The war had begun. Now we would choose how to fight it.