The Village That Time Forgot (And Wi-Fi Never Found)

Two hours into their hike across the Enchanted Forest of Unrealistic Beauty, Mia was realizing why fantasy heroes always looked so skinny. Hiking through enchanted territory was backbreaking work, especially if every step revealed something that left her agog like a tourist.

"Does that tree actually sing?" she asked, pointing toward a gigantic oak whose branches swayed in unrivaled harmony even when still.

"Mellow Oak," Kael swore, not even breaking stride. "They're not necessarily that scarce around these parts. The one we passed an hour or so back was warbling what I imagine you'd call a power ballad."

Mia’s eyes widened, the alien music somehow falling right into her heart as she followed it. "That's beautiful, really. In my world, the closest thing to singing trees is when the wind moves the power wires just so."

"Your world sounds… peaceful."

"More like proactively blunted." She gripped her Jeweled Blade closer, which was able to shrink small enough to fit in a belt loop—magical swords obviously had convenience features built in. "But I think serene might have been misrepresented, though."

They topped a hill of blooms that glittered like tiny stars, and Mia caught her first sight of civilization in this strange new world. The valley town below was out of a fairy tale—straw thatched roofs, cobblestone roads, smoke rising in impossibly elegant spirals from the chimneys.

"Brighton's closed, so Willowbrook," Kael stated in a relieved tone. "We can hole up here, resupply, and I can introduce you to some friends who will come in handy along the way."

"Tell me they have coffee. Or tea. Or even just warm brown liquid of any sort."

"They have moon-berry brew. It's… an acquired taste."

Mia’s stomach growled loudly, a reminder that traveling through dimensions somehow worked up an appetite. "At this point, I'd drink tree sap if it had caffeine."

As they rode down toward the village, Mia saw something out of place. The villagers went about their day with a kind of obstinate cheer that looked like denial more than joy. One woman washing clothes waved and smiled, but her eyes kept darting back to the shadowy woods beyond the village.

"Kael!" a voice cried the moment they entered the central square.

A giant of a man with an impressive beard stormed toward them, face lighting up as soon as he recognized Kael. "Thank the ancient spirits you’ve returned! And you’ve brought—" He stopped at the sight of Mia.

"The chosen hero," Kael said again, though this time his tone carried a hint of uncertainty.

The bearded stranger, Theron the blacksmith, looked Mia up and down with forced tact. "She’s… smaller than I expected."

"I get that comment a lot," Mia replied dryly. "Usually followed by, ‘Are you sure you’re qualified for the job?’"

Theron’s leathery face broke into a grin. "I like her already. Come on, both of you. The others are waiting at the Silver Stag."

The Silver Stag was exactly the kind of tavern Mia expected—woodsmoke, roasting meat, bread that might or might not legally qualify as bread. Conversation stopped the moment they entered. Every head turned toward Mia.

She resisted the urge to check if something was on her face. "Is it always that horrible when the hero of preference arrives, or am I singled out?"

"Usually the hero I choose is seven feet tall and walnut-solid," said a woman by the fire. She had silver-streaked hair and sharp eyes that hinted at hard years and sharper wit. "I’m Elena, village healer and weekend prophet of doom."

"Hi. I’m Mia, professional disappointment and full-time improviser."

Elena laughed warmly. "Oh, I like this one, Kael. Much truer to type than the standard hero types."

"The standard hero types?" Mia dropped into a chair that creaked under her small weight.

"We’ve had three predestined heroes in the past year," Theron said, setting down a steaming mug of something ominous. "All very… traditional. Destiny speeches, honor speeches. None of them survived the Whispering Marshes."

"What happened to them?"

Kael and Elena exchanged a look.

"The Shadow Sorceress has learned to deal very well with traditional heroes," Elena said carefully.

Mia took a sip of the drink and nearly wept in relief. Bitter, dense, biting—it wasn’t coffee, but it was close enough. "You’re suggesting I need to be unorthodox?"

"You must be unpredictable," Elena confirmed. "The Shadow Sorceress—Morvana, though we rarely speak her name—knows heroes. She knows how they fight, what they want. But you…" Elena studied Mia with a flicker of respect. "You’re not doing any of the things we expect."

"Because I have no clue what I’m doing?"

"Exactly."

Mia sipped again, fire warming her chest. "Okay. Cluelessness as virtue. I can live with that."

A commotion in the yard shattered her haze. Villagers poured into the square, faces pale with fear.

"Shadow-spawn," Theron snarled, hefting a hammer big enough to flatten a cottage. "They’re pushing past our defenses."

The Jeweled Blade jabbed Mia in the hip, warning her before she even registered danger. She was already running for the door, Kael close behind.

The square was chaos. Where joy had been moments ago, discipline now ruled. Villagers scrambled away as three nightmare forms oozed out of the dark—shadows stitched together, tendrils of living oil that froze the ground where they touched.

"Shadow-spawn?" Mia asked, drawing the Jeweled Blade. The creatures’ heads snapped toward her instantly.

"Lesser," Kael confirmed. His own blade sang as it cut the air. "But lethal."

The first shadow-spawn lunged at a child. Mia didn’t think—she shifted. The Jeweled Blade flashed, and shadow burst into light that scattered like sparks on the wind.

"Hmm," Mia muttered, glancing at her sword. "Not as difficult as I expected."

The other two circled her warily, like predators testing a trap. She’d faced worse at the insurance firm.

"Let’s just get it over with," she said, falling into a stance she didn’t know she knew. "I haven’t even had my coffee yet."

They rushed her at once. She spun, blade flashing in a blur that would make any stunt coordinator weep with envy. Both monsters fell in ribbons of dissolving shadow.

The square fell silent. Only the faint jingle of fading magic remained.

"Well," Elena said from the tavern doorway, "that was tidy."

Mia looked from the villagers to the sword, back to the villagers. "Is it always this easy?"

"Oh no," Elena chuckled. "Those were magical mosquitoes. The hard ones are… much nastier."

"Of course they are." Mia sheathed the blade and headed back to her drink. "At least let me finish my caffeine before the next impossible thing."

"In fact," Theron said slowly, gaze distant, "that gives me an idea. Elena, didn’t you say the Sorceress prefers heroes predictable?"

"What are you suggesting?" Kael asked.

Theron grinned. "That we give our new hero some very non-traditional training."

Mia paused in the doorway. "Why do I think I’m going to regret that?"

Still, she couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in years, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be—even if “where she was supposed to be” meant learning how to be a completely unpredictable hero in a mystical village tavern.

The quest hadn’t even begun. And she couldn’t wait.