Dominick Crux trudged through the woods, a heavy sled laden with freshly cut logs strapped to his shoulders. His older brother, Ronin, walked behind, keeping an eye on the load to ensure it didn’t topple over as they neared their home on the outskirts of Alversdale. The crisp autumn air carried the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. The summer was gone, and winter’s edge crept closer each day.


    “Why do I have to drag the sled Ro?” Dominick groaned, dragging out the last syllable of his brother’s name in protest. “This thing is heavy.”


    Ronin smirked. “Because you’re built like an ox, that’s why. But if you want to switch, you’re the one picking up the logs if it tips.”


    Dominick sighed dramatically but grinned. “Fine, fine, just help me out before my arms fall off.” He handed Ronin a length of rope, and together they pulled the sled over roots and rocks, their boots crunching against the forest floor.


    By the time they reached the tree line, their muscles ached, and their shirts stuck to their backs. Their home stood alone in the clearing, a sturdy stone-and-thatch cottage, its chimney trailing the comforting scent of wood smoke and fresh-baked bread into the air. The smell of meat pies made Dominick’s stomach growl.


    “Let’s unload and get chopping,” Ronin said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll get meat pies for lunch.”


    Dominick didn’t need convincing. The boys quickly set to work, splitting logs, stacking firewood, and wiping sweat from their brows as they labored.


    Ronin’s mind wandered as he worked. Their mother, Andomina, was a master storyteller. Winter nights were spent around the hearth, listening to her tales of distant lands—the Arcane City of Alaman, where mages ruled; the Windy Peaks, mountains so high they touched the sky; the Iron Summit, home to an entire dwarven kingdom hidden beneath the stone. She told them of adventurers, guilds, and warriors who shaped the world.


    One day, he thought, they would see those places for themselves.


    The Attack


    A deep, rumbling growl shattered the morning peace.


    Dominick froze, the axe halfway through a log. A massive shadow loomed at the edge of the clearing. The stench of wet fur and decay rolled over them as an enormous dire bear emerged from the tree line. Its matted fur bristled, and its claws gouged the dirt with every step. The beast had been watching them. Stalking them.


    Before either boy could react, the bear roared and charged.


    Dominick barely had time to turn before the creature barreled into him, sending him sprawling. Ronin stumbled backward, eyes wide, as a massive paw swiped through the air where he had stood moments before. He hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. A hot, wet sensation ran down his face—blood.


    “Help!” he screamed, scrambling backward, his heart pounding. The bear’s beady black eyes locked onto him, full of primal hunger. It lunged again, and he rolled to the side just in time, feeling the rush of air as its claws slammed into the dirt where he had been.


    A voice cut through the chaos.


    “No!”


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    Their mother stood in the doorway, eyes wide with horror. Before Ronin could cry out, she grabbed a spade and sprinted forward. The bear turned, drawn by her scream, and met her head-on. With one monstrous swipe, its claws ripped across her midsection, sending her flying into the stone wall of their home.


    Ronin’s world went red.


    Fury—hot, searing, all-consuming—roared to life inside him. His mother, their anchor, their everything, lay broken and bleeding. The bear bellowed, a monstrous challenge that vibrated through his bones. His vision blurred, his heartbeat thundered in his ears.


    Across the clearing, Dominick pushed himself up, head spinning. He saw their mother crumpled against the house, saw the beast closing in on Ronin, and something inside him snapped.


    “Get away from them!” Dominick bellowed.


    He hurled himself at the bear, slamming his shoulder into its side. It was like hitting a solid wall of muscle and fur. The impact sent him sprawling again, the breath knocked clean from his lungs. The bear turned to him now, standing over him, growling low in its throat.


    Then, Ronin screamed.


    And fire erupted from his hand.


    A burning sphere of flame exploded forward, striking the bear’s hindquarters. The beast roared in pain, spinning wildly, its tail ablaze. Another fireball shot from Ronin’s palm, hitting the creature’s face.


    Ronin barely had time to react before the bear, blinded by pain and rage, lunged at him. It crashed into his chest, sending him flying backward. He landed hard, gasping, the world spinning around him.


    Dominick, dazed, tried to rise. Through blurred vision, he saw his mother stir. Saw her lips moving—singing? Was she… singing? His mind reeled, but there was no time to question it.


    His brother was hurt. His mother was dying. And the bear was still standing.


    Dominick’s fingers closed around the handle of their wood axe.


    Adrenaline surged through his veins as he pushed himself up. He wouldn’t let the monster take them. Wouldn’t let it end this way.


    He sprinted forward, axe raised high. The bear, still dazed, shook its head and let out another furious bellow. Dominick leapt, every ounce of his strength pouring into the swing.


    Time slowed.


    For the briefest moment, he felt something stir inside him. A power, unfamiliar but undeniable. His leap carried him farther than it should have, his strength more than he had ever known. The axe came down with all the force of his will, striking the beast’s skull.


    The bear’s head cracked with a sickening crunch, its body crumpling as the force of the blow split the ground beneath it.


    Dominick collapsed onto the corpse, gasping for breath. His hands shook, the weight of what had just happened settling over him. He rolled off the beast, his body aching, and forced himself to his feet.


    “Ronin! Mom!” he choked out.


    No response.


    He staggered to their mother’s side, his stomach twisting at the sight of her blood-soaked dress. “Mom! Stay with me!” He pressed his hands to the wound, desperate, pleading. “Ronin will fix this! He’ll know what to do!”


    But Ronin was just pushing himself up, his face pale, his expression one of pure horror.


    They had won. But it wasn’t enough.


    Their mother’s breaths were shallow, her skin deathly pale.


    Ronin dropped to his knees beside her, gripping her hand. “Mom?” His voice broke. “What do we do?”


    She didn’t answer. Her chest rose one last time. Then stilled.


    “No!” Ronin shook her, his sobs ragged. “No, you can’t! You can’t leave us!” His cries tore through the clearing, raw and broken. Dominick clung to him, both boys shaking as grief crashed over them.


    The scent of blood tainted the crisp autumn air, mingling with the warmth of their mother’s cooking that still lingered. A cruel contrast.


    Less than four minutes had passed since the bear entered their clearing.


    Four minutes to change their lives forever. Those precious few minutes, would change their course in life.