STRANGE MAGIC

CHAPTER.10

After enjoying the peaceful wind and staring at the beautiful skies, Darren finally went back into the house. He felt calm, yet something inside him wouldn’t rest. He told his parents that he wanted to go out hunting again. His father looked at him carefully and said, “Always be careful, my son.”

What his father didn’t know was that Darren had already fought with a monster on his way back home the other day. He hadn’t told anyone about it—not even his grandfather. That secret still burned in his chest. He only nodded to his father, trying not to reveal the truth, then went into his room and took out the original sword—the one connected to his magic, the one he had almost sold to the trader.

He held the sword firmly, feeling the faint golden glow pulse beneath its surface. It hummed softly in his hand, like it was alive. Darren wrapped it and placed it on himself, then headed outside, ready for the hunt. This time, his expression was serious—he wasn’t smiling as usual.

He went to the stable and chose one of his father’s best horses, a strong brown stallion. As he was mounting it, his father’s voice came from behind, a bit alarmed. “Where are you taking the horse to?”

Darren replied quickly, “I’m taking it for hunting. Don’t worry, I’ll bring it back safely.”

His father frowned. “Are you sure you’ll tie it properly? You’re not taking it deep into the forest, are you?”

Darren forced a smile. “Don’t bother, Father. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll bring it back safely.”

Without waiting for more questions, he rode off toward the forest. The hooves of the horse pounded the ground as wind brushed against his face. On his way, he passed by Joran’s compound. Joran was outside, sharpening his knife. They exchanged a tense glance—neither said a word. It was clear the fight between them had left a scar that words couldn’t heal. Darren turned his eyes away and continued down the path.

When he finally reached the forest, he slowed down. The air was cool, silent, and filled with the whisper of trees. He got off the horse, tied it carefully near a small stream, and whispered, “Wait here.” Then he walked deeper into the woods.

For three hours, Darren hunted quietly. His movements were swift, his senses sharp. He captured several animals with precision, using traps he’d made himself. Despite his focus, part of his mind stayed alert—watching, listening—for something unseen that might be lurking in the forest.

As the sun began to fade, Darren returned to the horse, packed up his catch, and rode back home. The ride was calm, the evening air cool against his skin. When he reached home, his mother came out and gasped in relief.

“You brought the horse back safely,” she said, smiling.

“I told you I would,” Darren replied with a small grin.

They all sat down for dinner, enjoying the meal together. For a moment, it felt like everything was peaceful again. But that night, when Darren finally lay down to sleep, the peace shattered.

He dreamed—a nightmare so vivid it made his heart race. He saw himself fighting the King, the very ruler whose bloodline was said to carry the same ancient magic that now flowed in his veins. The King’s sword glowed the same golden light as his own. Sparks flew, thunder roared, and the ground split open between them.

Then Darren woke up—trembling, sweating, and gasping for air. It was still dark. He couldn’t sleep again. When dawn broke, he went to his father and told him everything about the dream.

His mother came in, listening silently, eyes filled with worry. His father spoke softly but firmly. “My son… I’ve told you this many times. Don’t exhi

bit your powers. Keep them hidden, or they will destroy us all.”