When you return to the smithy, Bryn is already waiting at the doorway, arms folded, the forge’s glow casting his scarred features in bronze and shadow. He studies you for a long moment, then nods with a solemn finality.
“You’ve done well,” he rumbles, his voice heavy with pride yet sharpened with caution. “But the time for trials is over. The beast that waits now will test every skill you’ve earned—and perhaps every breath you’ve got left.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice as though even the night itself should not overhear.
“South of here lies the lake, black and endless. There sleeps the Hydra. Cut once, and it will rise again. Sever a head, and two more may answer the wound. Many have tried. None have returned.”
Bryn places a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm as iron.
“You carry a gift now—the spell of Rewind. If your blade slips, if your strike spawns what should have stayed dead, use it. Bend the moment back. That power may be the only thing standing between victory and a grave.”
He gestures back toward the village, where merchants shutter their stalls and the tavern’s light glows dim in the distance.
“Gear yourself. Stock potions, sharpen steel, brace your armor. For when you face the Hydra, you face more than a beast—you face the jaws of despair itself.”
[Head south to the lake then continue to fight the Hydra.]
[Upon victory, return to Bryn to continue]