Evening. The Medical Tent.
Grog woke to darkness.
The tent was quiet now—not silent, but quieter. The worst of the wounded had been stabilized or had died. The healers moved with less urgency, their steps slower, their voices softer. The crisis had passed.
He lay still, taking inventory.
Chest: still bandaged, still sore, but better. Arms: stronger. Legs: restless, wanting to move. Head: clearer than it had been in days.
The apple hummed in his blood, steady and warm. The berserker slept, content for now.
He was healing.
Fast.
---
Lira sat in the corner, her bandaged arm resting on her knee. She'd been there for hours—watching, waiting, guarding. Old habits. Good ones.
Their eyes met.
"You're awake," she said.
"Apparently."
"Again."
Grog almost smiled. Almost.
"How long?"
"Two days since the battle." Lira stood, moved closer. "Mirena said you'd wake up soon. She was right."
Grog nodded slowly.
Two days.
He'd lost two days.
He looked at Lira. At her bandaged arm. At the exhaustion in her face.
"Your arm?"
"Fine. Healing." She flexed it slightly. "Mirena fixed it. Said I'd have full use in a week."
Grog absorbed this.
Then something clicked in his mind.
A memory. From the rings. From Kevin's treasure.
---
He sat up.
Too fast. The world spun. He grabbed the edge of the stretcher and held on.
"Grog—"
"I'm fine." He wasn't. But he would be.
Lira stared at him. "What are you doing?"
Grog looked around the tent. His pack was in the corner—he could see it, battered and stained but still there.
"The rings," he said. "I need the rings."
Lira's eyes widened.
"Now? You can barely sit up."
"Now." Grog's voice was firm. "I forgot something. Something important."
Lira hesitated. Then she crossed to his pack, brought it to him.
Grog's hands shook as he opened it. The rings were still there—seven of them now, five opened, two still untouched. He found the one he needed.
The fourth ring.
The one with Aldric's gear.
But also—
He reached inside.
---
The space was vast. Organized. He'd explored it before—found the armor, the sword, the spear, the bow. But in the chaos of discovery, in the rush to get back to the column, he'd forgotten something crucial.
The bow came with arrows.
Not physical arrows—something better.
He found the quiver. Small, leather, unremarkable. But when he held it, he felt the magic inside. Space. Potential. And something else—
Mana stones.
A pouch of them, tucked beside the quiver. Small crystals, glowing faintly in the darkness of the ring's space. He pulled them out.
Lira leaned closer.
"What are those?"
Grog held up the quiver. Then the bow—dark wood, recurved, beautiful.
"This is yours," he said. "I meant to give it to you before the battle. I forgot."
Lira stared.
"A bow?"
"A magic bow." Grog handed it to her carefully. "It was in the same ring as Aldric's gear. Kevin's people made it for someone like you."
Lira took it. Her hands—even the injured one—wrapped around the grip like it belonged there.
"It's light," she breathed. "So light."
"The quiver." Grog held it out. "It doesn't hold normal arrows. It—" He opened the pouch of stones. "These. Mana stones. The quiver uses them to create arrows. Infinite arrows, as long as you have stones."
Lira's eyes went wide.
"Infinite?"
"Not exactly. The stones have limited power. But each stone—" He examined one. "Each stone should give you dozens of arrows. Maybe hundreds."
Lira took the quiver. Turned it over in her hands.
"I've never—" She stopped. Swallowed. "I've never had anything like this."
Grog nodded.
"You deserve it."
---
Lira was quiet for a long moment.
Then she looked at him.
"You forgot?"
Grog winced.
"I forgot. There was so much—Aldric's gear, the sword, the armor, the spear. And then the battle came, and—" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. If I'd remembered sooner—"
Lira held up a hand.
"Stop."
Grog stopped.
"You were dying. You'd been fighting for hours. You'd just killed a monster with your bare hands." Her voice was steady. "You're allowed to forget things."
"But if you'd had this during the battle—"
"I'd have used up all my arrows anyway." Lira almost smiled. "And then I'd be out of stones instead of out of arrows." She looked at the bow. "This is a gift. A real gift. The timing doesn't matter."
Grog looked at her.
"You're not angry?"
"I'm not angry." She set the bow across her knees. "I'm amazed. And grateful. And—" She paused. "And a little scared. This is a lot."
Grog nodded.
"Kevin's people knew what they were doing. They made these for a reason." He met her eyes. "You're that reason."
Lira was quiet for a long moment.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
"Thank you," she said. "Really."
Grog nodded.
---
They spent the next hour exploring.
Lira couldn't test the bow properly—not in a tent full of wounded, not with her arm still healing. But she held it, felt its weight, learned its balance. She examined the quiver, the stones, the way the magic pulsed when she touched them.
"It's incredible," she kept saying. "I can't believe this is real."
Grog watched her.
In the old timeline, Lira had been a scout. A good one. The best. But she'd never had anything like this. She'd fought with ordinary weapons, ordinary arrows, ordinary skill.
Now she had magic.
Now she had power.
Now she had a chance.
---
Aldric found them an hour later.
He looked better than he had—still quiet, still carrying something heavy, but less hollow. He stopped when he saw Lira with the bow.
"What's that?"
Lira held it up. "Magic. From Kevin." She grinned—a real grin, the first in days. "Grog forgot to give it to me before the battle."
Aldric looked at Grog.
"You forgot?"
Grog shrugged. "There was a lot going on."
Aldric almost laughed. Almost.
"There was."
He sat beside them. Looked at the bow. The quiver. The stones.
"She's going to be unstoppable," he said.
Lira snorted. "I already was."
"Now you're unstoppable with infinite arrows."
"Exactly."
They sat together in the dim tent, three friends holding onto something rare—a moment of peace, of hope, of almost-happiness.
It wouldn't last.
But for now, it was enough.