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The Grimheart Expanse closes around us in a wall of green shadow, its towering oaks and twisted elms locking branches overhead until noon feels like dusk. Narrow shafts of sunlight cut through the canopy, catching drifting pollen between tree trunks wider than cottages. Centuries of damp, fallen leaves muffle our boots and send up the rich smell of wet earth with every step, while a hidden stream babbles somewhere off in the brush.
I move through this wilderness wonderland with a mixture of awe and disbelief, my eight-foot frame requiring constant ducking beneath low-hanging branches while my new companions navigate the terrain with practiced ease. The weight of my greataxe across my back feels more familiar after three days of travel, but I still catch myself touching the weapon’s handle for reassurance—proof that the events at the Crossroads Inn had actually happened. With Ruleg’s popped loaner harness back in his smithy until I earn enough contract coin for custom steel, the mended sapphire dress from my choosing ceremony is the only outfit I have that fits my frame, and I continue to wear it despite the grumbling of some of my new party members. I’d argued that its split skirt allowed me to move freely and reminded me of home, even if every long stride parted the fabric and left my bare, muscular thighs flashing in the cool forest air.
As we trek deeper into bandit territory, my mind drifts back to that pivotal night when everything changed. The memory feels surreal, like something that had happened to someone else—standing in that torch-lit ring, facing down experienced fighters who’d initially dismissed me as just another village dreamer with delusions of grandeur. I remember the exact moment when Garrett’s expression had shifted from polite skepticism to genuine interest, when he’d realized I possessed something beyond mere size. The way Lysander’s fireball had whistled past my head still makes me flinch in retrospective terror, but also fills me with pride at how quickly I’d adapted to magical combat.
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