I woke to the sound of wind.
Soft, cold, patient — brushing through the trees in waves. A far cry from the madness of the night before. The stillness didn't feel peaceful. It felt watchful. Like the forest was waiting for me to move.
Pain brought me back fully.
Everything ached. My ribs throbbed with every shallow breath. My arms were numb. My back was damp from sleeping in the mud. Every inch of me screamed exhaustion.
But I was alive.
And somehow… that was the part I couldn't wrap my mind around.
I shouldn't have survived. That thing should've torn me in half. I remember its weight. Its breath. The bloodlust in its eyes. Then nothing but… noise. A pull from inside me. A soundless scream.
And the beast fled.
Why?
I didn't know.
I didn't do anything.
At least… I don't remember doing anything.
I pushed myself up against a nearby rock, gritting my teeth as needles of pain shot through my side. My vision swam. The forest around me came into focus in uneven frames — tall black trees, dark leaves slick with dew, the light of early morning cutting through them in beams.
I needed water.
Food.
Shelter.
But more than anything, I needed to think.
I forced myself to my feet, one arm hugging my side, and staggered through the trees.
The forest was quieter by day, but no less unsettling. The trunks were too still. The wind whispered too deliberately. Every branch above seemed to lean inward, as if eavesdropping on my steps. The deeper I walked, the more the trees twisted — not from age, but malice. Some had grown sideways, or looped around one another like vines trying to strangle the sky.
But eventually, I found sound.
Running water.
A stream.
Small, shallow — but clean. Its surface caught the sunlight like glass. I dropped to my knees and drank without grace, letting the coolness wash the dryness from my throat.
Then I looked up.
And froze.
The stream mirrored me perfectly.
The boy in the water was not the one I remembered.
His skin was pale with a soft, rosy undertone — the kind of complexion untouched by sun or labor. His face was sharp, symmetrical, almost beautiful in a fragile, elfin way. His lips were full. His jaw soft but defined. His white hair fell in messy strands to his jaw, damp with sweat and blood.
But it was his eyes that unsettled me.
One was a clear, icy blue — glinting with sharpness.
The other was gray, cloudy — not blind, but watching in a way that made even me uncomfortable.
Two halves of a coin that didn't belong together.
"This is me now…" I muttered.
The voice that came out was softer than I expected. Younger. It cracked slightly at the end. I clenched my fists.
I didn't feel like this boy.
I wasn't him.
But I wasn't just myself anymore either.
There were emotions brewing in me that weren't mine — the helplessness, the fear, the aching loneliness. They clashed with the cold focus I'd built in my old life. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the sense that my mind and body were at war.
I splashed my face and stood, letting the chill ground me.
Focus.
You survived. Again. That has to count for something.
I kept moving, keeping the stream in sight.
There was no trail. No signs of human life. Just miles of twisted wood and soft moss. I passed the skeleton of some long-dead beast, overgrown with weeds. Its ribs were as thick as a man's leg. One of its fangs had been snapped and left embedded in the dirt.
Even the wildlife here died ugly.
The sun began to dip again, and I still hadn't found anything resembling safety.
My legs burned. My feet ached. My vision swam. I couldn't last much longer like this.
Then I heard it.
Voices.
Human.
They were faint, but real — not inside my head, not memories. Laughter, the clink of gear, the soft thump of hooves on dirt.
I moved toward the sound with what little strength I had left, pushing past the underbrush until the forest gave way to a small, winding road.
And there they were.
A group of three merchants, bundled in layered robes, riding on a creaky wooden cart pulled by two exhausted-looking oxen. One of them — a woman — spotted me first. Her eyes widened.
"Gods," she whispered. "What—what is a child doing out here?!"
They stopped the cart.
I didn't move. Couldn't. I just stood there, swaying.
A man jumped down from the cart and approached slowly, hands raised.
"Easy, boy. You're safe now."
Was I?
I didn't feel safe.
But something in me relaxed just enough to stay standing.
He reached out, placing a hand gently on my shoulder.
"You're freezing. You're alone. Gods above… are you from a sect? What happened?"
I opened my mouth.
But I didn't know what to say.
I didn't even know who I was right now.