The Woodcutter's Wife
The sun hung low over the village by the time Luis finished loading his cart. He'd cut three times his usual haul thanks to the System-enhanced axe, though his arms still ached from the work.
*"You know, if you leveled up your Strength stat, this would be much easier,"* the System chimed in helpfully.
"I don't have a Strength stat," Luis muttered under his breath, mindful of the other woodcutters nearby. "I have arms. Regular human arms."
*"But according to my readings, you should have stats. Everyone has stats. It's basic physics—"*
"That's not how physics works."
*"Isn't it? I'm still learning about your world. So many contradictions in the data..."*
Luis ignored the voice and began pushing his cart down the forest path toward town. The wheels creaked under the weight—oak and pine, all well-cut, all ready for market.
"Luis! Wait up!"
He turned to see Marco jogging toward him, wiping sawdust from his graying beard. Marco had taught Luis everything he knew about woodcutting, back when Luis was a scrawny fifteen-year-old who could barely swing an axe.
"Heading back already?" Marco eyed Luis's overloaded cart with surprise. "Sun's barely setting. You feeling alright?"
"Just had a good day," Luis said carefully. "Got into a rhythm."
Marco circled the cart, examining the cuts with a practiced eye. His bushy eyebrows rose incrementally with each log he inspected.
"These are clean. Really clean." He picked up a piece of oak, ran his thumb along the cut edge. "When'd you sharpen your blade?"
"Uh... recently."
"Recently like this morning? Because this edge work is something else." Marco set down the log and fixed Luis with a knowing look. "You been practicing on the side? Taking extra jobs?"
"Nothing like that. Just... focused today."
*"You should tell him about me!"* the System suggested cheerfully. *"Maybe he can see me too! We could form a party!"*
"Not happening," Luis whispered.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just talking to myself."
Marco frowned but didn't press. Instead, he clapped Luis on the shoulder. "Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up. With the baby coming, you'll need all the coin you can get. Speaking of—how's Deera feeling?"
Luis's expression softened immediately. "Morning sickness is rough, but she's managing. Still trying to convince her to rest more."
"Good luck with that," Marco chuckled. "That wife of yours has more fire than sense sometimes. Remember when she insisted on helping us move that fallen oak last spring? Eight months into the relationship and she's out-lifting half the crew."
Luis remembered. He'd been terrified she'd hurt herself. She'd been bored and wanted to help.
"She's... strong-willed," Luis said diplomatically.
"Strong everything, more like." Marco lowered his voice, glancing around though they were alone on the path. "Listen, Luis. I know some folks in town still whisper. About where she came from. About why a girl like that would settle down with a woodcutter."
Luis's jaw tightened. "Let them whisper."
"I'm not judging, boy. Just saying—you landed yourself something special. Don't take it for granted."
"I don't. Not for a second."
Marco studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Good man. Now get going before the market closes. And Luis?" He tapped the side of his nose. "Whatever secret technique you're using on those cuts? Teach me sometime."
Luis laughed despite himself. "I'll think about it."
---
The village of Millhaven sprawled across the valley like a lazy cat in afternoon sun. Smoke rose from chimneys, the scent of baking bread mixing with the earthy smell of tilled fields. Luis had lived here his whole life, and the sight of home never got old.
Especially now that "home" included Deera.
Their cottage sat on the village's edge, backed up against the forest. It wasn't much—two rooms, a thatched roof that leaked when it rained hard, a vegetable garden Deera had planted with alarming efficiency. But it was theirs.
Luis could see smoke rising from their chimney as he approached. That meant Deera was cooking, which meant he needed to hurry. Her culinary experiments ranged from surprisingly delicious to potentially lethal.
*"Your heart rate just increased,"* the System observed. *"Are we in danger?"*
"Depends on what she's making for dinner."
*"I don't understand."*
"You will."
He pushed open the door, calling out, "Deera? I'm home!"
"About time!" Her voice drifted from the back room. "I was starting to think you'd run off with that axe of yours!"
Luis set down his pack, smiling. "The axe isn't nearly as pretty as—"
He stopped.
Deera stood in the doorway to their bedroom, and Luis's breath caught the way it always did. Long dark hair that seemed to shimmer in the firelight. Eyes that shifted between brown and something deeper—something he'd learned not to ask about. A face that artists in the capital would pay fortunes to paint.
And a small, barely noticeable swell to her belly that made his heart ache with joy and terror in equal measure.
"As pretty as what?" she prompted, one eyebrow raised. A smile played at her lips.
"As the tree I was cutting," Luis deadpanned. "Absolutely gorgeous grain."
She threw a dish towel at his head. He caught it, laughing.
"You're impossible," she said, but she was crossing the room, wrapping her arms around him. She fit perfectly against his chest, always had. "Did you have a good day?"
"Productive," he said carefully, breathing in the scent of her hair—lavender and something else, something uniquely her. "Got a lot done."
She pulled back slightly, studying his face. Those eyes—definitely more than brown right now, edging toward amber—narrowed with concern.
"You look tired. Did you overwork yourself again?"
"I'm fine. Just eager to get home."
Her expression softened. She reached up, brushing sawdust from his hair with gentle fingers. The touch sent familiar warmth through his chest.
"Liar," she said fondly. "But I'll allow it. Come on, I made stew."
*"She's beautiful,"* the System said quietly. *"And her energy signature is... wait, that can't be right."*
Luis ignored the voice, following Deera to their small table. Two bowls of stew sat waiting, steam rising invitingly. It actually smelled good.
"Is it safe?" he asked, only half-joking.
"I followed the recipe exactly this time," Deera said primly, settling into her chair with the careful movements of early pregnancy. "Mostly."
"Mostly."
"I may have added some extra herbs. For flavor."
"What kind of herbs?"
"The edible kind!" At his expression, she laughed. "I promise, Luis. No experiments today. I'm actually hungry for once, and I didn't want to ruin it."
They ate in comfortable silence for a while. The stew was good—actually good, not just "good for Deera's cooking." Luis had three helpings.
"So," Deera said eventually, swirling her spoon through the broth, "you going to tell me what really happened today?"
Luis looked up. "What do you mean?"
"You have that look. The one you get when something's on your mind." She tilted her head, studying him with unsettling accuracy. "Did something happen in the forest?"
**[WARNING: Subject is perceiving abnormalities]**
**[Recommend: Deflection or Honesty?]**
Luis set down his spoon. He'd never been good at lying to Deera. Those eyes saw too much.
"Something... strange happened," he admitted. "I'm not sure how to explain it."
She leaned forward, interested but not alarmed. "Strange how?"
"I started seeing things. Text floating in the air. And there's this voice—" He stopped, shaking his head. "You're going to think I'm crazy."
"Luis." She reached across the table, taking his hand. Her touch was warm, grounding. "I'm the last person who'd think you're crazy. Tell me."
So he did. The System's awakening, the enhanced axe, the floating text showing his "stats." He expected her to laugh, or worry, or something.
Instead, Deera went very still.
"Show me the axe," she said quietly.
Luis retrieved it from by the door. The blue glow had faded, but the enhanced edge remained. Deera took it carefully, running her fingers along the blade.
For just a moment—so brief Luis almost missed it—her eyes flashed purple.
**[ALERT: MASSIVE POWER SIGNATURE DETECTED]**
**[SOURCE: DEERA]**
**[LEVEL: ERROR - CANNOT CALCULATE]**
**[THREAT ASSESSMENT: CATASTROPHIC]**
**[Wait... she's not threatening you. She's... analyzing the enchantment?]**
Deera set the axe down gently. When she looked back at Luis, her expression was carefully neutral.
"How do you feel?" she asked. "Any pain? Dizziness? Strange compulsions?"
"No, nothing like that. Just... confused. Do you know what this is?"
She hesitated. For a long moment, Luis thought she might tell him something important, something that would explain the mystery.
Instead, she smiled—a bit sadly, he thought—and shook her head.
"No idea. But if it doesn't hurt you, and it helps you work faster..." She shrugged. "Maybe it's a blessing. The gods know we could use one with the baby coming."
Luis wanted to press, to ask why she'd reacted that way, why her eyes had changed color. But he'd learned over the past two years that Deera had secrets. They all did.
And she'd tell him when she was ready.
"You're probably right," he said instead. "I'm just overthinking."
"You always overthink." She stood, moving around the table to wrap her arms around him from behind. Her chin rested on his shoulder. "It's one of the things I love about you. That careful, thoughtful mind."
"Is that what you love about me?" He turned his head, kissing her temple. "Not my rugged woodcutter physique?"
She laughed, the sound washing away his worries. "That too. Especially when you're all sweaty and covered in sawdust."
"I'll remember that next time you complain about me tracking dirt in the house."
They stayed like that for a while, holding each other as the fire crackled and evening settled over their little cottage. Outside, Millhaven went about its evening routines. Inside, Luis and Deera existed in their own small world.
*"She knows something,"* the System whispered. *"About me. About what I am."*
Luis didn't respond. He suspected the System was right.
But for now, in this moment, it didn't matter.
Whatever mysteries surrounded them—the System, Deera's past, the strange path that had brought them together—they'd face them the same way they faced everything.
Together.
---
**[End Chapter 2]**
*"Luis?"* the System said hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
*"I think your wife might be dangerous."*
Luis smiled into Deera's hair. "Yeah. I know."
*"And that doesn't bother you?"*
"Not even a little bit."
*"...You're weird."*
"Says the voice in my head."
Deera squeezed him tighter, and Luis felt her smile against his shoulder.
Tomorrow he'd ask questions. Tomorrow he'd worry about mysterious systems and floating text and all the strangeness that had entered his life.
Tonight, he just held his wife and counted himself the luckiest man alive.
---