Sol watched as Ceera left the room, supposedly to collect her daily medicinal plants from the drying racks outside. She kept sneaking glances back at him over her shoulder, cheeks tinted pink, nearly bumping into a side table before catching herself. When their eyes accidentally met, she gave him a shy smile and hurried out.
A small smile tugged at his own lips.
The entire village knew Ceera for two things. Her unmatched knowledge of medicine and healing… and her spectacular clumsiness whenever she was flustered.
She arrived 5 years ago, one year before Sol arrived, with zero memories of himself but with his striking personality. After two years, at the age of 19, she became the head of the healing house, growing it to its current state, with eight trained healers working under her and two teenagers apprenticing, inspired by her.
Sol shifted his attention to Mira.
She sat beside the newcomer on the bed, gently smoothing his messy white hair after adjusting the blanket around his shoulders. The movement was instinctively maternal. She was everyone's mother.
Too thin, Sol noted again, his gaze lingering briefly on the boy's frame. The bones of his wrists stood out like branches under snow, and he could count the ridges of his ribs through the wolfhare fabric.
After about an hour, the kid finally woke. The moment consciousness returned to him, Sol's senses flooded with anxiety.
Not unease.
Not confusion.
Raw, sharp, suffocating anxiety.
When Sol stepped forward and offered water, the emotion spiked violently.
What kind of idiot thought he was going to hurt him with a bowl of water?
He had mostly been a part of welcoming newcomers and showing them around once Mira was done explaining where they were. To say that this was the strangest welcome process he had encountered would be an understatement.
Everything seemed to be going okay until she said that Nemeteia was his new home.
This idiot started crying.
Sobbing.
It was rare in Nemeteia. Adults always cry out of happiness, and sometimes, very rarely, if they had a huge argument and one gets emotional. Children sometimes cried if they scraped a knee, got frightened by something unfamiliar, or threw tantrums.
Sol tried to tell himself the kid was just scared. But what he felt from him was not fear.
This was despair.
Just the sight of him curling into himself, stifling his sobs, Mira's eyes turned red, moisture gathering along her lashes. What could he have been thinking to feel such sadness to cry?
Fucking hell. This kid is going to be a handful.
Sol immediately decided he would keep his distance as much as possible. He had no interest in being constantly entangled in emotions this intense.
The tree had granted him abilities of enhanced senses that picked up smells, sounds, as well as strong emotional fluctuations alongside enhanced agility, speed, and strength.
Smells and sounds, he could control. But intense feelings, emotions, he couldn't. Some people found that intrusive, and he understood why. It was one of the many reasons people found him intimidating.
Even the kid had only glanced at him once and never looked back again.
And for goddess's sake, Sol was getting exhausted.
It was not like he could just shut the ability off. If he suppressed his emotional sensitivity completely, his control over his beast side would collapse. He would lose himself.
If that ever happened, the village people could write their own farewell to life.
So yes, he snapped.
"Calm the hell down. You're making me f—" He cut himself off with a frustrated sound. "—making me exhausted."
Instant regret.
The kid's panic exploded.
So intense that Sol actually had to brace his hand on the table beside him, forcing himself to take slow, controlled breaths to stay grounded.
Even without any special ability, Mira could clearly feel how heavy the atmosphere had become. When Mira asked if he wanted to step outside, he shook his head. No.
This was his duty.
When Mira asked for his name and age, the kid claimed he was eighteen.
Sure, some newcomers remembered fragments. Names. Numbers. Random facts that made no sense. They had long concluded that people arriving in Nemeteia came from somewhere… different.
But biology wasn't much different from the ones who were born in Nemeteia. Judging by his body, this kid was sixteen at most. And that was generous.
When Sol voiced his disbelief, another massive wave of panic slammed into him, knocking the air from his lungs.
He forced himself to breathe slowly again.
Why the hell was this kid panicking when Mira was being this nice?
Then he got his answer.
He remembered.
Not faded memories, not random words, not how-to do stuff out of nowhere.
Everything.
He remembered who he was before he arrived at Nemeteia, and both could figure out his emotions were so strong because they were effects from past memories and were linked to the memories. Emotions that didn't suit Nemeteia that were filled with happiness and freedom.
It got him thinking, if that was why people never remembered anything when they came here. To have a new start. Clean slate. Unbound by the past, which was both good and bad.
He realized that telling Lyor that he was in Nemeteia wasn't going to be enough. Sol and Mira exchanged a brief look. They both understood instantly that they needed to call Teebu.
He would remember family.
He would miss his family.
Friends.
His life back there.
That's why he was feeling so sad. That's why he had started crying when Mira said that this was his new home.
Lyor probably wanted to go back.
But there was no way back.
No one ever wanted to leave Nemeteia.
Although it was unsettling, the way Lyor was handling his panic in this situation was remarkable.
That level of control…
It matched someone older than he looked.
For some reason, that was not comforting.
It screamed wrong.
Much to Sol's surprise, Lyor remembered the cat. Well, he, in his cat form, which he was trying so hard to conceal from him, and this dumb woman started laughing about it.
The kid had been worried. Genuinely worried.
And everything he said afterward had the same underlying thread.
I am useful. I can help.
Talking about the cat seemed to calm him slightly, the emotional pressure easing enough that Sol could finally breathe without strain.
Thank fuck.
He almost laughed when the kid's stomach growled unceremoniously, though he covered it by clearing his throat.
"I'm not a kid," the kid declared suddenly. Then immediately followed it with a quiet, "Sorry."
Was he scared of literally everything? Stupid.
Then Mira stood up to bring some food for him.
"Sol, try not to scare the kid to death until I get back."
Apparently, he was supposed to be gentle now.
Yes. For his own well-being, he absolutely should be. And he needed to watch his mouth. They had not yet decided how to explain the whole situation here.
That Lyor now belonged to Nemeteia.
And that he would not be returning to the life he remembered.