“Alright, it is time, aspirants,” Doyle called out.

  He looked like he’d been up all night, his brown bowler hat now sporting a few fresh coats of melted candle wax. He’d woken us before sunrise for our so-called task of the day, and the world still felt half-asleep with us. A fresh layer of dew clung to every plant, glittering faintly in the early light.

  Amelia was the last to stumble out, yawning as she stepped through the front door to join us in the garden. A thin mist drifted over the village, softening the outlines of the buildings behind us.

  Doyle stood on the porch with a parchment in hand, wearing a sharp, business-like expression.

  “Okay, I’ve got the details,” Doyle said, tapping the parchment. “George’s paddock—far edge of the village. He’s run into a bit of trouble and needs your help.”

  Rob perked up. “Yeah? What’s poor old Georgey done now?”

  “Every one of his cows has dried up.”

  Rob scrunched his nose. “Oh, buggah. Like they’ve turned to jerky?”

  “No, Robert,” Doyle sighed. “He means they’ve stopped producing milk.”

  “Oh…”

  Amelia stretched through another yawn, fastening a small brown pouch to her belt. “Sounds like a farmer problem…” she mumbled.

  Both Rob and Amelia were already kitted out in modest padded armour, chest pieces, gloves, wrist and shin guards. Practical, a little worn, but solid.

  I glanced down at myself.

  Right. Regular clothes. Perfect for… absolutely none of this.

  “Where do I get armour like that?” I asked.

  Rob flexed, grinning. “You gotta earn it, mate.”

  Doyle nodded. “They paid for theirs. Successful tasks will earn you coins. Don’t worry, Sean, you’ll afford a set soon enough.” He cleared his throat and refocused on the parchment. “Now, back to business. George saw a black cat yesterday, and he may’ve had… an altercation.”

  “An altercation?” I asked.

  “He means he kicked the cat,” Rob said flatly.

  “Again?” Amelia winced. “Poor thing.”

  “This time he insists it wasn’t the same one. Apparently, when he shooed it away—”

  “Emphasis on shoe,” Rob muttered.

  Doyle shot him a look but continued. “—it reacted differently. I suspect we’re dealing with a little trickster. Some sort of shapeshifter that’s decided to hit back.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “And you want us to…?”

  “I want you to investigate it and hopefully get rid of it.”

  Rob drew an iron dagger from his hip and inspected the sharp point.

  “You can count on me!” Rob said, replacing the dagger into his sheath, clearly satisfied.

  Doyle let out a long-suffering sigh. “I think Amelia should take the lead this time.”

  Rob’s shoulders slumped while Amelia’s lifted, her grin immediate. She stuck her tongue out at him, earning a weary shake of the head from Doyle before he shot me a look that plainly said this is my life now.

  I offered him a weak, sympathetic smile.

  “Well, since you’re new, Sean,” Doyle continued, “try to learn from these two.”

  They both straightened, suddenly looking far more competent than they had a second earlier.

  “Right… guess I’m in your hands,” I said.

  “Before you three head off, I’ve got something for you Sean.”

  Rob and Amelia exchanged a knowing look, clearly this was a routine they recognised. Doyle slipped back inside and reappeared with a pack almost bigger than he was. Before I could protest, he dumped it into my arms. The weight nearly dragged me straight to the ground.

  I cracked it open. Inside were the essentials: bandages, a couple of flasks, and a small protective charm etched with a pattern that reminded me of the rune on my medallion.

  “Sean’s turn to carry the sack!” Rob chuckled.

  “What is all this?” I asked. It looked less like a morning errand kit and more like something meant for surviving a week in the wild.

  “It’s part of your training,” Doyle said. “Supply and preparation.”

  Rob silently mouthed the words with him, clearly having heard this speech far too many times.

  “With this, you’ll learn to recognise the essentials you need for any future mission.”

  Amelia tried, and failed, not to grin.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Don’t I get a weapon too?” I asked. “These two look ready for a fight.”

  Doyle paused, considering, then ducked back inside. He returned moments later with a battered old buckler and passed it to me. I tried not to let my face betray anything, but it was a struggle. The wood felt soft in places, less shield and more suggestion of a shield.

  “Beggars can’t be choosers,” he said lightly, clearly catching my awful poker face. “Now, off you go, kids… ah, aspirants.”

  Rob cleared his throat. “Ahem… you said something about blessings?”

  Doyle smirked. “If you three handle this properly, I may have procured a few foundation elixirs.”

  Both Rob and Amelia perked up instantly.

  “Well then,” Doyle said, gesturing grandly toward the road, “what are you waiting for? You’ve got cows to save.”

  And just like that, we were off.

  Amelia led the way through town just as the locals were stepping out to start their day. A few nodded or waved as we passed, and we crossed the bridge in minutes. Another short walk took us to the old farmstead on the outskirts.

  “So, I’m just like you,” Rob said suddenly. “Came from Earth. Through the gate last season. Been with Doyle and Amelia a few months. Amelia’s a local, but she’s got nowhere to stay. Her family’s a bunch of—”

  “That’s enough, Rob,” Amelia cut in sharply. “As you like to put it. T.M.I.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  She shot him a look that suggested he absolutely wasn’t forgiven. Rob, somehow missing every social cue in existence, kept talking anyway.

  “Since she’s a local, I’ve been teaching her slang,” Rob said proudly.

  I chuckled. “How many aspirants come from Earth, then?”

  “Doyle says heaps. Big families who’d rather raise their kids somewhere safer, a few nobles who hide their heirs off-world until they’re strong enough to fend for themselves… and then you get the likes of us.” He puffed up slightly. “You know—underdogs. The future legends. World-savers.”

  Small fry with nowhere else to go, more like it. But, I kept that thought to myself.

  I fell quiet as we trailed behind Amelia. The pack dug into my shoulders with every step, and I finally understood why the other two had been so relieved not to carry it today.

  “So, where are you thinking of applying?” Amelia asked me. “The college?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted, trying not let slip that I don’t even know what she was on about.

  “Well, I am,” she said proudly. “And Rob wants to get into the barracks, but they only take people who have stage three in Swordsmanship.”

  “What stage are you in?” I asked him.

  “I don’t have a blessing for swordcraft,” Rob said. “Only the dagger.”

  “That not enough?”

  He sighed. “Sadly, no.”

  “I thought you were pretty good with the sword,” I said.

  “Hey, don’t encourage him…” Amelia warned.

  Rob stuck his tongue out at her before turning back to me with a grin. “Thanks. I try.”

  For someone who looked like he’d grown up outdoors and was only a little taller than me, he handled that heavy practice sword with surprising skill—especially considering he didn’t have a blessing to help him.

  “So, if you can’t get in?” I asked.

  “It’s the lodge for me,” he said with a shrug. “Not the worst thing… but man, do I want to get into the barracks.”

  “Then you can be with your kind,” Amelia teased. “And then you can whack things with sticks forever.”

  Rob didn’t rise to the jab. Instead, he smiled, wide, unbothered, and utterly sincere.

  Yeah… he’d probably consider that paradise.

  When we reached George’s farmstead, we started by checking the barns and the nearest fields. Nothing. No tracks, no strange smells, no lurking shapeshifter ready to jump out at us. After a while Amelia decided our best bet was to sweep the perimeter.

  I was a little on edge following them out, but the fields were… oddly calm. All the cows had huddled close to the barns and refused to wander; their eyes fixed warily on the open pasture.

  Down the hill sat a broken wagon, half-sunk into the grass, with a line of crooked trees behind it blocking the view of the sparse forest beyond.

  Something about the stillness made the hairs on my arms rise.

  A low hiss cut through the quiet.

  Perched on the broken wagon was a black cat sprinkled with tiny white spots. Its fur stood on end, eyes fixed on something out in the field. Following its gaze, we spotted a lone cow separated from the herd.

  “Hey, kitty, what’s got you spooked?” Rob asked. He glanced back at us. “That’s the same cat George always kicks. No way it’s a shapeshifter.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  Amelia lifted a hand. “Let’s just get a closer look. Let’s be careful.”

  We approached slowly. Up close, the cat looked exhausted, thin, ragged, and clearly not doing well.

  “Hey, little guy,” Amelia murmured as she crouched. “You hungry? Poor thing…” She glanced back at us. “Yeah, it’s just the same cat as usual.”

  Rob gave a soft whistle. The cat didn’t even twitch. Instead, it hissed again—louder this time—its claws raking at the air toward the lone cow.

  “The cat doesn't look like a shapeshifter to me,” Rob said, though a dagger had already slipped into his hand out of habit.

  “Can we just… scare it off?” I asked.

  Rob shrugged. “Maybe. Doyle just said to get rid of it.”

  I turned to Amelia for guidance, but she looked as uncertain as I felt.

  “Let’s just scare it away,” she decided eventually. She reached into her leather pouch and pulled out a smooth stone.

  Rob took a half-step back. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I’m not going to hit it,” she said. “Just make some noise.”

  He nodded, though neither of us looked convinced.

  Something about this felt off. The others were focused on Doyle’s promised reward, eager to finish the task quickly—but the whole situation prickled at me. The cat wasn’t acting like a normal animal, and the cow standing alone didn’t help the uneasy feeling crawling up my spine.

  Amelia moved into position and opened her palm, ready to chant the right words.

  Out of the corner of my eye, something about the cow tugged at a memory—one of the stories from the notebook.

  “Wait,” I said, a cold shiver running up my spine. “Look at the cow. Its ribs.”

  Rob lifted his dagger a little higher. “It’s not breathing… and its eyes.”

  “They’re yellow,” Amelia whispered. “Is it sick?”

  No. Not sick.

  A story in the notebook flicked through my mind, about a thing that copied what it saw, wore shapes like clothing, and waited for something careless enough to come close.

  The cow shifted its weight.

  Then its hide… moved. Not like muscle, more like fabric sliding. The colour dulled, then darkened, and the entire shape sagged before tightening again into something else. Its jaw stretched unnaturally, teeth flattening into broad molars made for crushing. The limbs adjusted too, bending in ways no cow’s ever should.

  A wet, heavy breath rattled from its throat.

  My heart slammed against my ribs.

  “That’s not a cow…” I breathed. Then louder. “Shit. It’s a Doppler Troll.”

  The others froze for only a heartbeat—then that familiar spark of resolve lit in their eyes.

  “Rob, distract it,” Amelia said, voice tight but steady.

  Rob didn’t hesitate. He darted toward the creature’s flank, boots thudding softly against the grass.

  The troll moved faster than anything that size should. It lurched after him, its limbs stretching into their true shape—hands broad and heavy, the skin along its arms shifting into thick, stone-like scales.

  Amelia cupped the small rock in her palm and whispered to it. I felt the air shift around her fingers.

  The stone snapped forward with sudden force.

  The troll twitched aside at the last second. The rock whistled past its face and skidded into the dirt, and Rob’s dagger barely scraped along its scaled shin.

  “Damn it!” Amelia muttered.

  The creature’s speed was wrong for something that size—too sharp, too aware.

  Rob rolled clear of a sweeping arm and struck again, quick and precise, but every time he aimed for a gap in its shifting hide, the troll slipped aside with almost casual ease.

  It didn’t take long to realise we were seriously in trouble.