Chapter 2

I arranged the wet logs around the hearth with deliberate intent, stacking high and low, dense and sparse.

Gaps were left between every piece. They were precise channels for the air to flow.

This was carpentry; it relied on structure and space.

Then, using my own dry kindling, I coaxed a small fire to life in the grate.

The flame had to be gentle.

Too much heat would split the sodden timber or burn it outright.

A low, steady warmth was needed to slowly draw the moisture from the core.

Soon, a heavy mist rolled through the room as the water evacuated the wood.

The temperature began its slow climb.

Adjusting the vents, I made sure the heat would circulate while pushing the damp air up the chimney.

By the time I finished, deep into the night, I was soaked to the bone and exhausted.

The key was left in the lock as I headed back to the cabin to sleep.

I just thought, since we lived in the same yard, if I could lend a hand, why not?

It really wasn't a big deal.

I had no idea that by morning, my life would be upended by a pile of wet logs.

A frantic pounding woke me at dawn.

Expecting Mark, I opened the door to find Ellie standing there.

Her eyes were swollen, even redder than the day before.

But this time, it wasn't sadness—it was pure excitement.

Her lips trembled, like she wanted to say something, but just couldn't get the words out.

"M..." My name caught in her throat.

Bewildered, I asked, "What's wrong?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed my hand, turning my palm upward as if searching for a secret carved there.

Her fingers were ice-cold, shaking violently.

"Ellie?" I asked, a bit unsure.

Mark burst out of the main house then, brandishing a log.

It was one of the logs I'd hauled into the fireplace room yesterday.

Mark handed me the log, his face a mask of disbelief and wild joy.

"Michael, how did you pull this off?" Mark blurted out.

I took the log. It was light, bone dry, and still held a trace of warmth.

The dark, waterlogged grain had faded to a pale, sun-bleached yellow.

I pressed a fingernail into it; hard, brittle. It was completely cured.

"Dried it with the fire," I said simply.

It was the truth, but they refused to believe it.

Ellie found her voice. She looked at me, enunciating every word, "You saved our family."

"No, that's really too much," I said.

She exclaimed, "No! We had nothing this morning. Anna was freezing. Mark went to the hearth room, ready to choke on smoke just to get some heat, and then... he saw this."

She pointed to the log in Mark's hand.

"They were all dry like they'd spent all summer in the sun. No smoke, Michael. The fire burns blue. It's so warm."

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she spoke.

"Michael, are you an angel sent by God?" Ellie asked, her voice trembling with awe.

I laughed hollowly. "I'm not an angel. I'm a carpenter."

"No, you are. You know magic!" Mark insisted, his voice trembling.

I opened my mouth to explain the physics of evaporation and airflow, but Ellie suddenly spun around and shouted toward our yard gate, "He admitted it! He knows magic!"

I was stunned.

Following her gaze, I saw that the gate was no longer empty.

Men, women, the elderly, children—they were standing there.

A sea of people pressed against the fence, spilling out until the crowd disappeared into the distance.

The entire town had arrived.

Every face wore the same expression as Ellie and Mark.

The look of people clinging to their last hope, like drowning folks grabbing for a lifeline.

But what shocked me most was what they carried.

In their arms, at their feet, clutched against their chests were piles of wet firewood.

The line stretched all the way to the other side of town, a winding, endless serpent of damp timber.

Ellie rushed to them, calling out loudly.

A murmur rippled through the crowd, and then hundreds of eyes locked onto me.

The gaze was searing, expectant, carrying a devotion that bordered on religious worship.

I was completely stunned. What was happening?

An old man with a head full of white hair, leaning on his cane and surrounded by the crowd, slowly made his way over.

It was Felix Graves, the town mayor.

He stopped in front of me, removed his hat, and bowed deeply. "Mr. Lewis, please forgive our intrusion."

Felix spoke with flawless ease. "Mrs. Evans told us what happened. C-Can you really bring wet wood back to life?"

"Back to life?" I echoed, totally baffled.

Where did they get this stuff?

"I just dried it out," I said.

Felix said, gesturing toward the crowd, "To them, that's like bringing dead wood back to life. Everyone in town bought their winter firewood from Tom.

"But every single log ended up soaked. Yeah, not a single piece was good for burning."

Felix's expression turned grave. "The blizzard's almost here. If we don't get dry firewood, at least half the seniors in town won't survive the winter."

Quiet, muffled sobs could be heard among the crowd.

I looked at the aged faces, the young ones, the children.

I looked at the wet clutches of wood that meant the difference between life and death.

Finally, I understood the despair I had seen in Mark and Ellie yesterday.

It wasn't just one family. It was the entire town.

Felix looked at me, his eyes holding a final, desperate plea. "Mr. Lewis, I know this is asking too much. But can you help us?"

Help? How?

I glanced back at the small hearth room.

That fireplace could maybe dry a few dozen logs at a time.

But there were five hundred households. Mountains of wood.

Even if I were a god, working day and night, I couldn't finish it.

I was speechless, feeling the weight of five hundred desperate faces pressing down on me.

The crowd fell silent.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for my answer.

Ellie and Mark watched me nervously, likely expecting their "Sorcerer Tenant" to manifest a miracle.

I took a deep breath, the icy Northland air tightening my throat.

I looked at Felix and said, "I'm sorry. I can't help."

A massive sigh of disappointment swept through the crowd.

Ellie's face went paper-white.

Felix's face crumpled. "I-Is there really no way?"

I shook my head. Then, I nodded.

As they looked on in confusion, I spoke the next line, "I can't help you one by one like yesterday. But I've got another way."

Felix's eyes ignited instantly. "What way?"

I looked at the crushing crowd at the gate, looking past them to the vast, cedar-covered forest stretching into the distance.

"I don't have any magic. But I'm a carpenter," I said.