Hours slipped by, and the sun’s harsh glare softened into a warm glow. Winston woke up, groaning softly as he pressed his fingers to his temple. The headache was no surprise, just another side effect of his chaotic sleep schedule. He sat up, squinting at the window. The long shadows stretching across the ground told him it was probably close to 3:00 PM.


    He leaned back for a moment, letting his mind wander. Aroco wasn’t an exciting place, but it was home. Over the years, he’d found ways to keep himself entertained, reading books on history and survival, picking up random skills, that made small-town life a little more interesting.


    Finally, he pulled himself out of bed with a stretch, his joints stiff from sleeping in the same clothes he’d trained in the night before. A quick glance at the mirror on the wall confirmed it. “Great,” he thought, sighing. “That’s another set of sheets to wash.” It was the second time this week he’d made the same mistake.


    His eyes scanned the room, landing on a wrinkled shirt tossed carelessly on the floor. He grabbed it, swapping it for the one he was wearing. Slowly, piece by piece, he cobbled together a new outfit, a simple hand-stitched shirt and baggy brown pants, far more comfortable than the rugged gear he’d just shed.


    When he made his way to the kitchen, his mom’s cheerful voice greeted him. “Evening!” Clara called out as she bustled around, her tone warm and bright.


    Winston sank into a chair at the table, still half-asleep. This was routine by now; his odd hours didn’t faze Clara anymore. She always had something ready for him, no matter how unconventional the timing.


    She opened a burlap sack in the pantry, scooping out a handful of oats. “Oatmeal again?” Winston asked, not annoyed, just curious.


    “Unfortunately,” Clara replied, pausing for a moment. “Speaking of which, are you planning to come to the village meeting today?”


    “I hadn’t thought about it,” he admitted, rubbing his neck.


    “They’re going to talk about plans to fight the famine,” she said, her tone dipping into frustration. She poured water into the oats, setting the pot on the stove.


    “I guess I could stop by,” Winston said with a shrug, grabbing a cup from the pantry and filling it with water. He sat back down, watching as Clara extended her hand toward the pot. With a flick of her wrist, a small flame ignited beneath it.


    “You really don’t need to waste magic on lighting the stove,” Winston muttered, his tone slightly teasing but still laced with disapproval.


    Clara grinned without missing a beat. “It’s fun, and that’s reason enough.”


    “Mhmm,” Winston hummed, the sound muffled as he drank from his cup.


    His thoughts drifted. Magic wasn’t a common skill in Aroco; most villagers relied on tools and traditions instead. That lack of experience with magic had been devastating during the calamity years ago.


    The village warriors, armed only with weapons, had been no match for their magic-wielding attackers. Winston had seen firsthand how outmatched they were. That memory had driven him to take up archery and train relentlessly, determined to be better prepared for the future.


    Clara’s voice pulled him back. She set a bowl of oatmeal in front of him, the faint scent of cinnamon wafting up from the steaming bowl. “I’m heading out to help set up for the meeting,” she said, grabbing her shawl. “Come by when you’re ready. Love you!”


    Winston blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Thanks, Mom. Love you too.” He managed a small smile, watching her disappear out the door.


    Winston took a bite of the oatmeal, savoring the cinnamon that lingered despite the stale texture of the oats. Aroco had once thrived on hunting and crop production, but corrupted animals had rendered much of the meat inedible. The food supply had dwindled sharply since the corruption began spreading.


    Not long after the Dark Mage''s defeat, the lingering presence of dark magic had begun to affect the animals. No one knew exactly why, but the prevailing theory was unsettling: if humans could harness or succumb to dark magic, perhaps animals could as well.


    As he ate, Winston’s mind wandered. He imagined a squirrel choosing to embrace dark magic, though he dismissed the thought with a smirk. Since the calamity, nothing really made sense anyway. Finishing his meal, he placed the dirty bowl in the sink and moved to the door.


    At the entrance, he laced up his shoes, his eyes drifting to his bow and quiver resting against the wall. They were constants in his life, tools he never left home without. Strapping them to his back, he stepped outside.


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    The streets of Aroco, usually lively in the evening with children playing and villagers bustling about, were eerily empty. “This meeting might be more important than I thought,” Winston muttered, his voice breaking the silence.


    As he walked, Winston’s gaze lingered on the charred remains of houses that had been destroyed two years ago. The damage had been so severe that families either rebuilt on new land or didn’t survive the attack at all. The memories weighed heavy as Winston approached the village''s community center, its tall wooden frame casting a long shadow over the fire pit. He paused briefly, his eyes tracing the village crest etched into the structure; three circles representing community, strength, and nature. The motto felt outdated, and his tight-lipped smile reflected that sentiment. He stepped inside.


    The hall buzzed with activity. Villagers were arranging chairs and makeshift seating—wooden planks, large stones from the creek were filling the space in preparation for the meeting. Aroco wasn’t accustomed to hosting the entire village, and the effort underscored how unusual the situation was.


    “Winston! Glad you made it!” Chief Aki’s voice boomed from across the room. The tall man, with his neatly trimmed beard and black robe signaling his status, waved enthusiastically.


    “Hello Chief,” Winston replied, a genuine smile breaking through.


    “Could you help set up the last few chairs? We’re starting soon,” Aki asked, his tone warm yet purposeful.


    “Of course, Chief.” Winston began arranging the remaining seats, noting the damp chill of the stones as he moved them. They must have been gathered recently, likely just for this occasion.


    Looking around, he was struck by the number of villagers present. Many of them had become reclusive since the attack, so seeing them here, together, was both comforting and unsettling.


    Aki’s voice cut through the hum of conversation. “We’ll begin in one minute! Please, find your seats.”


    Winston spotted Clara waving him over to an empty spot. He made his way to her and sat down, nodding a silent thanks.


    “Thank you all for coming,” Aki began, his tone warm but tinged with gravity. The room quieted, save for a few whispers that quickly faded.


    “As proud villagers of Aroco, we’ve endured unimaginable challenges these past years. We’ve fought to rebuild our lives after the calamity, and now, we must face another challenge together.” Aki’s voice faltered slightly, his hand tightening into a fist as he scratched his leg.


    “He’s nervous,” Winston murmured under his breath.


    “What?” Clara whispered back.


    “I’ve never seen him like this. This can’t be good,” Winston said, rubbing his forehead as if bracing himself.


    Aki continued, his voice steadying. “The corrupted creatures have devastated our crops and diminished the animals in the woods. Our food supply grows thinner by the day.”


    “We know this already!” a man shouted from the crowd.


    The room erupted into chatter, frustration spilling over in waves. Aki clenched his teeth, drumming his fingers against the podium, clearly at a loss for how to regain control.


    A sharp, deafening whistle pierced the chaos. The crowd turned as one to Winston, who casually lowered his fingers from his lips. Clara smacked his shoulder in shock, but the room fell silent.


    “Thank you, Winston,” Aki said, his voice carrying a hint of relief. He cleared his throat and continued.


    “King Merrick of Aurethia has extended a generous offer to our village,” Aki announced, letting the words hang in the air. The room remained eerily quiet, with villagers glancing at one another in muted apprehension.


    “He proposes that we align with the capital,” Aki went on, “in exchange for minor taxes on goods and a few changes to our customs. In return, the capital will ensure every villager is fed and grant us their protection.”


    Murmurs rippled through the crowd, quickly escalating to outraged shouts. Winston’s eyes widened. For centuries, Aroco had resisted the capital’s influence, cherishing its independence and traditions.


    “What do you mean, ‘a few changes’?” a woman called out, her voice sharp with concern.


    Aki hesitated, his discomfort evident. “The details are to be discussed tomorrow,” he admitted, his tone faltering.


    “And we’re supposed to agree to this without knowing the terms?” another villager demanded.


    Aki’s gaze darted to Winston, as though hoping for another intervention, but Winston sat back, tight-lipped and unwilling to intervene now that the direction was clear.


    “We’ve already accepted,” Aki finally said, his voice rising above the crowd. The room fell into stunned silence.


    “They’ll arrive tomorrow to finalize the terms of our agreement,” Aki explained. “I ask that you trust me to act in the best interests of Aroco.”


    The villagers responded with a scattered chorus of defeated murmurs, their spirits visibly deflated.


    “Meeting adjourned,” Aki said, raising his hand. The crowd dispersed slowly, the weight of the announcement hanging heavy in the air.


    As Aki approached Winston, he rested a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for your help earlier. Please, don’t do anything rash tomorrow, alright?”


    Winston frowned. “No problem?”


    Aki offered only a small, strained smile before walking away.


    “That was…odd,” Clara remarked, her eyes following the chief.


    “Glad I’m not the only one who thought so,” Winston replied, his unease deepening.


    Later that evening, Winston sat on the stoop of the house, the cool air brushing against his skin. Clara stepped outside, her shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she settled beside him.


    “Do you think Aki’s doing the right thing?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Winston’s gaze lingered on the dark silhouette of the forest. “It’s a big choice,” he said, his tone even. “Only time will tell.”


    The silence that followed was heavy, the faint rustling of leaves the only sound between them. The impending changes seemed to press against both of them.


    “I didn’t sleep much last night,” Winston muttered as he rose to his feet, his jaw tightening. “I think I’ll turn in early, Mom.”


    Clara nodded, her eyes following him as he stepped inside. The door closed quietly behind him, leaving her alone in the rays of a setting sun.