Chapter 5: Timber of Kyrmsk
Asher woke with a jolt, his body jerking upright as he inhaled sharply, chest rising and falling with panic.
His heart raced, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, despite the bear's absence. Cold sweat clung to his skin, and the remnants of his terror lingered in his thoughts.
For a moment, the world around him was a blur—dim, unfamiliar shadows cast by a flickering fire. His limbs ached, as though he'd been dragged through the forest and beaten by the cold.
He looked down. Blankets were wrapped around him, the warmth from the fire on one side staving off the chill that lingered in his bones.
As his senses returned, the room came into sharper focus. The cabin was cluttered with all manner of gear—knives, bows, traps of various designs, and makeshift tools scattered haphazardly across the room.
It wasn't the kind of disorder you might expect in a homey cabin; this was a space built for survival, not comfort.
Weaponry leaned against the walls, hung on pegs, and the floor was littered with crude traps—some finely crafted, others abandoned mid-assembly.
The scent of pine wafted from the left, sharp and fresh, mingling with the faint tang of metal.
The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting flickering shadows that stretched across the walls.
His throat burned, dry and raw, and his body ached as though it had been pulled apart and stitched back together.
He let out a soft groan and turned his head, eyes landing on a low table beside him. There, perched precariously on the edge, sat a wooden mug. Steam rose in delicate swirls, and he could smell the bitter tang of tea.
His hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, his movements slow and stiff, but driven by desperation. The sharp scent of pine seemed to draw him toward it. He grabbed the mug, lifting it to his lips. The hot liquid burned down his throat—harsh but soothing, quieting the dryness that had settled there.
What the hell just happened? It all felt like some kind of nightmare that bled into reality.
The transformation—how the hell did that happen?
My body shifting, vines and moss crawling over me, taking root in my skin.
The bear—that goddamn bear—lunging at me like I was its next meal. I'd barely been
able to react, caught in that trap, and then everything went south so fast.
And then there was the woman. What was her name?
She showed up out of nowhere, like she'd been watching the whole damn thing unfold.
I'd barely had time to process anything before she was kicking the bear away like it was just an inconvenience, like I wasn't seconds away from being torn apart.
The whole thing was surreal, just... jumbled.
A creak from the front door suddenly cut through his thoughts.
The sound of heavy boots scraping against the floor echoed through the cabin as the door slowly creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air. The warmth from the fire flickered, fighting back the chill that seeped through the gap.
The woman stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft thud. Without hesitation, she threw her heavy coat haphazardly onto the floor. It landed in a heap by the door, the thick fabric crumpled into an unceremonious pile.
Then, with a fluid grace that seemed at odds with the disarray around her, she maneuvered through the cabin. Her boots clicked against the wooden floor as she navigated the scattered traps and weaponry, stepping nimbly over sharp edges and crooked designs, moving with the ease of someone who had done this countless times before.
Her gaze was fixed on Asher now, sharp eyes calculating as she made her way toward him, purposeful and unfazed by the chaos surrounding them.
Asher's confusion deepened as the woman spoke again. The words spilled from her lips in a string of garbled sounds, completely unintelligible to him.
"ϸϷϻϴϺϮ, ϹϼϿϽϯ, ϖϠϺϡϝ," she said, her tone soft but firm.
He stared at her blankly, struggling to make sense of what she was saying. His mind couldn't process the jumbled sounds.
"What... what are you saying?" he muttered, his voice hoarse. "I don't... I can't understand."
The woman seemed to notice his confusion, and without missing a beat, she reached into her pocket. Her fingers fumbled briefly before she pulled out a small feather. It was strange—its colors shimmering in iridescent shades, like the oily rainbow sheen of gasoline in sunlight. The color shifted subtly, reflecting light in odd ways, like it didn't belong in this world.
She placed the feather gently to her ear, and her lips parted again, repeating the same string of gibberish.
"Are you okay?"
This time, however, something in the air seemed to shift. Asher's mind registered the meaning of her words, even though he still couldn't grasp the language itself. It was as if the words weren't just sounds—they were feelings, direct and clear, cutting through the noise and confusion.
He blinked, caught off guard. "Wait... I... I can hear you. I don't get the words, but... I understand. How?"
The woman's lips curled into a small, almost amused smile, but she didn't explain. Instead, she spoke again, and Asher felt the same strange understanding wash over him, even as the words remained incomprehensible. It was like the language bypassed the need for translation, speaking straight to his mind.
"It's magic, just leave it at that," she said with a hint of sharpness. "And because of that, if you tell anyone about this... a bear will be the least of your worries."
Asher blinked, the weight of her words sinking in. The unsettling magic, the strange feather... He swallowed hard, meekly nodding in agreement.
"Alright," he said, his voice a little shakier than he intended.
"After seeing you dispatch that bear, I'd have to be a fool to dare do that."
The woman gave a slight nod, satisfied with his response. She then eyed him curiously, as if taking in something else about him.
"By the way, what language are you speaking?" she asked, her tone surprisingly casual.
"Uh... English," Asher replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. "You... you don't understand it?"
She shook her head, the frown deepening. "Never even heard of it."
"Then... what are you speaking?" Asher asked, his curiosity piqued despite everything.
"This?" she said with a shrug, her gaze drifting as if the answer were obvious. "This is Feysac."
Asher's mind raced, but he pushed forward with the next question, his voice laced with disbelief. "Where... where am I then?"
She scoffed, rolling her eyes as though his question were one of the most obvious things in the world. "The Feysac Empire, of course. In the small town of Kyrmsk."
"A logging town,"
She continued, her tone suddenly pitch-perfect, as if delivering a grand speech, "with the finest timber in the world. Do you have any idea the quality of wood we harvest here? The straightest, strongest pine, untouched by the blight of time. We produce timber that can withstand anything, no cracking, no splitting, just pure, dense material—perfect for construction, crafting, the finest shipbuilding. You'll find no better wood anywhere else, no matter how far you go."
She leaned forward, her intensity now bordering on the obsessive. "It's not just wood, you understand. It's a cornerstone of this empire, a part of what keeps everything standing, a part of the soul of Kyrmsk itself!"
Asher stared blankly, slightly taken aback by the unexpected fervor in her voice.
He hadn't anticipated a lecture on timber, especially not one delivered with such passion, as if the timber itself were a sacred artifact.
She paused for a beat, then blinked, her sudden intensity faltering as if she only just realized she'd gone off-track. "…Anyway, that's the town. Kyrmsk. Logging. Best timber. You get it."
Asher, still trying to process the abrupt shift, gave a small, cautious nod. "Yeah, I... I get it."
She awkwardly placed a hand on her neck, as if unsure what to do with it, and glanced out the window with a look that seemed distant, lost in thought for a moment.
"Anyway," she muttered, shaking her head slightly, "you'll want to get comfortable. You'll be living here for a while."
Asher blinked, confusion washing over him.
"Living here? Why?"
She straightened up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at him with that same intense, no-nonsense gaze.
"I follow a code."
Asher blinked, absorbing the weight of her words. There was a quiet certainty in her tone, like this code was something sacred, something she would never compromise on.
"One should never go halfway in helping someone," she continued, her eyes scanning the room, "because it's disrespectful to both yourself and the one your helping."
"If I'm going to help someone, I'll do it properly. And that means I'll help you until you're back on your feet, until you can stand on your own."
He looked at her, his mind still foggy from everything that had happened. Too drained to argue, he simply nodded.
"Okay... I guess that makes sense."
She gave him a sharp nod in return.
"Good. Now, stop looking so lost. You'll be here a while, so take your time getting adjusted."
Asher stayed silent, his thoughts still swirling like the smoke rising from the fire. His body ached, his mind was a blur, but somehow, the woman's presence, her words, seemed to ground him in a way he couldn't quite explain.
His gaze drifted around the room again, his eyes falling on the knives against the walls, the traps scattered across the floor. The chaotic disorder of the cabin, the raw tools of survival, struck him in an unexpected way—almost comforting.
"Yeah," he muttered quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "I'll get comfortable."
It wasn't much, but in a place that felt so alien, it was a nice feeling to hold onto.