Jett's POV
People in Oakhaven called me a lot of things.
Hunter.
Repairman.
Orphan.
Troublemaker.
Liar.
Garran's boy.
But there was one word they rarely said to my face.
Thief.
They didn't need to.
I knew.
The first time I stole something, I was nine.
A loaf of bread.
I had been hungry for two days.
Garran was away repairing a wagon in another village, and I had managed to catch nothing.
I remember standing outside the bakery, staring through the window.
Fresh bread.
Three loaves.
Still warm.
I had six copper coins.
The bread cost seven.
I waited until the baker turned around.
Then I took one.
I ran.
I expected Garran to beat me when he found out.
He didn't.
He looked at the bread.
Then at me.
"Did you pay for it?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I was hungry."
He sighed.
"That's not an excuse."
"I know."
He took the bread.
For a moment, I thought he would throw it away.
Instead, he broke it in half.
He gave me one piece.
Then ate the other.
"Next time," he said, "ask."
"What if they say no?"
"Then steal it."
I stared at him.
He smiled.
"But only if someone is going hungry."
I never forgot that.
Years later, Oakhaven had more hungry people than ever.
The harvest had failed.
Taxes had increased.
Animals were disappearing.
Merchants still arrived from the southern towns carrying food.
They just didn't sell it cheaply.
That was the problem.
The merchants wanted silver.
The villagers had copper.
So I became useful.
The first shop I robbed was a grain merchant.
I watched him for three days.
He arrived every morning.
Opened his wagon.
Counted his sacks.
Complained about the roads.
Complained about the villagers.
Complained about the kingdom.
Then he locked the wagon and went to the inn.
He thought the lock would keep everyone out.
It didn't.
Garran had taught me how to pick simple locks.
He had never taught me why.
I knew anyway.
The first night, I stole one sack of flour.
The second night, two.
The third night, the merchant hired a guard.
So I stole the guard's boots.
He woke up shouting.
I was already gone.
By sunrise, half the village had flour.
Nobody asked where it came from.
Nobody wanted to know.
That was how it worked.
People saw a sack of flour appear on their doorstep.
They didn't ask questions.
They simply thanked whoever had left it there.
I never took enough to destroy a merchant.
Just enough to make sure the village didn't starve.
At least, that was what I told myself.
The truth was messier.
Sometimes I stole things because I wanted them.
A new knife.
A better coat.
A piece of dried meat.
Once, I stole a silver buckle because it looked nice.
Garran made me return it.
He laughed for ten minutes afterward.
"Of all the things you could steal," he said, "you picked something completely useless."
"It was shiny."
"That doesn't make it useful."
"I liked it."
"That makes you a thief."
"I thought I already was."
He shook his head.
"You're an idiot."
I smiled.
"That too."
Those memories hurt now.
Everything seemed to hurt now.
I walked through the market the next morning.
People watched me.
Some smiled.
Others didn't.
The baker nodded at me.
I nodded back.
Then the grain merchant saw me.
His face turned red.
"You!"
Everyone looked over.
I stopped.
"Me?"
"You stole from my wagon."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You little rat."
He stormed toward me.
I didn't move.
"Search him!" he shouted.
Two guards stepped forward.
I sighed.
"Really?"
One grabbed my arm.
I twisted free.
The second reached for me.
I ducked.
He stumbled past.
The first swung.
I stepped aside.
He hit the wooden post behind me.
The market went silent.
I looked at him.
"You should really learn to watch where you're swinging."
The merchant shouted.
"He's a thief!"
Someone in the crowd yelled back.
"Then stop charging us twice what the grain is worth!"
Another voice joined in.
"Your prices are why people are starving!"
The merchant's face darkened.
"This is kingdom property!"
That shut everyone up.
The guards straightened.
Kingdom.
That word always changed things.
The merchant pointed at me.
"Take him."
I looked at the guards.
Then at the road behind them.
Then at the roof above the market.
I knew exactly where I was going.
I ran.
"Jett!"
I jumped onto a barrel.
From the barrel to a roof.
From the roof to a balcony.
Someone shouted.
Someone laughed.
A guard threw a stone.
It missed.
I ran across the rooftops.
Oakhaven was small.
I'd grown up on these buildings.
I knew which roofs were weak.
Which gutters could hold my weight.
Which windows were unlocked.
I jumped across the gap between two houses.
Almost fell.
Caught the edge.
Pulled myself up.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"You could've just paid."
I looked back.
Marek stood on the roof.
He was laughing.
"I didn't have enough."
"You stole enough for everyone else."
"Exactly."
He grinned.
Then pointed toward the western roof.
"Two guards."
"Thanks."
I jumped the other way.
By the time they reached the roof, I was gone.
I hid inside the old bell tower until sunset.
It was quiet up there.
I could see the whole village.
The fields.
The road.
Garran's workshop.
The Greywood.
I reached into my coat.
A loaf of bread.
I smiled.
I had stolen it from the merchant's wagon while escaping.
I tore off a piece.
It was stale.
I ate it anyway.
Then I heard footsteps below.
I froze.
Someone was climbing the tower.
I reached for my knife.
A small figure appeared through the trapdoor.
A girl.
Maybe eight years old.
She stared at me.
Then at the bread.
I sighed.
"You hungry?"
She nodded.
I handed it to her.
She took it with both hands.
"Thank you."
"Don't tell anyone."
She nodded.
Then she disappeared down the stairs.
I sat there alone.
For a while, I watched the sunset.
The sky turned orange over the Greywood.
Then blue.
Not normal blue.
That same strange light.
It flickered between the trees.
I stood.
Seven lights appeared.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then all seven.
They moved slowly through the forest.
I watched them.
Something about the pattern felt familiar.
My mind began assembling pieces.
Seven lines.
Seven lights.
The ancient machines.
The ruins.
The black sword.
Garran's hidden records.
My forgotten knowledge.
I suddenly understood something.
The symbol wasn't just appearing everywhere.
It was pointing somewhere.
I looked toward the Greywood.
The lights shifted.
All seven turned in the same direction.
North.
Toward the ruins.
I felt something cold in my pocket.
I pulled out the strange gear from Garran's workshop.
It was glowing.
I stared at it.
Then the lights disappeared.
Darkness swallowed the forest.
I closed my hand around the gear.
I had spent my whole life stealing things because I needed them.
Food.
Tools.
Clothes.
Money.
Whatever kept me alive.
But now I wondered if I had stolen something without knowing it.
A life.
A past.
A name.
Maybe even a memory.
And somewhere in the Greywood, something was waiting for me to take it back.