The forest was quiet when Nyx led me to them. The wolfcat's stride was deliberate, his ears twitching with each distant sound. I could feel his tension through the bond we'd formed, and my own steps matched his silent pace. The scent of smoke and unwashed bodies reached me first, twisting my stomach into knots.
We broke through the tree line to see the camp. The slave traders had set up crude tents around a central fire, their captives huddled together under rough rope bindings and rune-etched collars. Beastfolk, elves, humans—eyes wide with exhaustion and fear. The sight pulled me back to my last life, to the times I had been shoved into dark corners and ignored, voices talking over me as if I wasn't there, my protests drowned out by laughter or threats. I remembered the cold press of walls at my back, the sneers, the way people took and took until I felt hollow. Cornered. Powerless. My hands curled into fists until my nails bit into my palms.
I didn't attack in the open. I let the forest cloak me like a shadow, wrapping its silence around my anger.
The plants moved slowly at first, roots curling under the soil like serpents tasting the air. They slid toward the guards, latching onto ankles and wrists with a patient inevitability, dragging them a step at a time into the undergrowth. A trader's torch guttered as a vine coiled up his arm, tightening until it wrenched the weapon away. I saw a child about to be struck and my magic surged—branches swept down like claws, yanking the man backward into the dark. He didn't get the chance to scream.
They saw me then, eyes wide, curses spilling from their mouths as they raised whips and blades. The first blow caught my shoulder, hot pain flashing through me, but rage drowned it out. I called the forest to me—vines snapping tight around throats, roots heaving from the earth to topple them. My magic seeped deeper, coaxing the darkness to swallow them whole. It was quick, efficient, and I didn't feel the slightest bit guilty.
When the last one fell, I stepped from the trees, my cloak brushing the damp earth. The captives flinched.
"It's over," I said quietly, moving toward the nearest child. "You're safe now."
They didn't answer, but their wide eyes stayed locked on me, a mix of awe and fear flickering there. I could tell they weren't sure if I was a savior or something far more dangerous. It reminded me of other stares I had endured in my last life—the kind that weighed and judged without a word.
I crouched, my fingers brushing the cold metal of a collar. Faint runes pulsed along its surface, draining life and will from its wearer. The cruelty of it made my jaw tighten. With steady, deliberate strands of magic creation, I began dismantling the bindings. Each lock I unraveled sent a dull ache through my chest, the cost of the magic slowly grinding away at my strength.
A small whimper made me glance up. A young beastfolk boy lay to the side, his leg twisted at a wrong angle, the fur around it matted with blood. I moved to him at once, pulling a vial from my pouch. "Drink this," I urged gently. His ears flicked but he obeyed without question. The potion dulled the sharp edge of his pain, but the wound was too deep to leave. Placing my hands over the break, I let the magic flow, knitting bone, mending torn muscle, sealing skin. By the end, my vision blurred and my breath came short.
Nyx padded closer, his amber eyes narrowing at my pallor. He couldn't speak, but the deep chuff in his throat and the firm nudge of his head were clear enough. He didn't like what he was seeing.
"I can finish," I murmured stubbornly, though my knees quivered. Nyx crouched low, muscles bunching, and gave me a look that said there would be no argument.
"On," his body language seemed to command. I knew he was silently telling me it was too dangerous to linger here; his sharp glances toward the darkened trees made his meaning clear—this place would draw more predators, human or otherwise.
Reluctantly, I climbed onto his broad back, my fingers sinking into the thick fur at his neck for balance. Around us, the rescued fell into step—some carrying the injured, others clinging to one another. I raised my voice so they could all hear. "It's dangerous to stay here. My camp is safe, and while it will take time but I can remove those collars. If you come with me, you'll have food, warmth, and protection." Murmurs rippled through the group—fear, hope, uncertainty—but no one argued.
Nyx moved with a predator's grace, but every step was measured, careful, as if he knew just how fragile his burden was. Occasionally he glanced back at me, as if checking that I hadn't slipped into unconsciousness.
At my camp, the firelight spilled warmth across their weary faces. I guided them to sit, passing out food and more potions. Conversations began in hesitant murmurs.
"Who are you?" a young elf asked, her voice trembling as if unsure whether speaking to me was safe.
"No one important," I said softly, handing her a cup of steaming broth whose scent of herbs and root vegetables curled into the cool night air.
"You killed them… didn't you?" an older human whispered, his eyes searching mine for a truth he already suspected.
I met his gaze evenly, letting the firelight reflect in my eyes. "Yes. And I'd do it again." My words carried no boast—only the blunt certainty of someone who had seen too much cruelty to let it stand.
The silence that followed shifted in texture—less edged with fear, more weighted with reluctant understanding. I rose then, gesturing for them to follow. "Come. There's something you should see."
Leading them a short way beyond the camp's edge, I placed my palm against the invisible line of the protective barrier I had shaped earlier. Magic creation shimmered faintly under my touch, casting ripples of pale light through the air before fading back into invisibility. "This surrounds the entire camp," I explained, turning to meet their wary gazes. "Nothing hostile can cross it—no beasts, no men. Inside this space, you are untouchable."
Some reached tentative hands toward the air where my palm had been, flinching at the soft hum they felt. Whispers passed between them, a few shoulders easing.
Back by the fire, the crackle seemed louder in that moment. As they ate, I moved among them again, crouching low to check wounds, pressing bandages into hands, offering quiet reassurances that they were no longer alone. I slipped spare cloaks over trembling shoulders, passed out bundles of dried meat and bread, and told them they could sleep without fear—not while my barrier stood.
As I worked, my attention kept drifting back to the pile of discarded collars. I knelt by one, tracing the etched runes with my fingertips, feeling the faint pulse of suppression magic still clinging to it. Magic creation stirred at my call, threads of my own design weaving with careful precision through the hostile engravings, unpicking them in ways their original maker had never imagined. The more I studied, the clearer its foul purpose became—how it leeched vitality, strangled natural abilities, and funneled its stolen power back to a distant master. The realization stoked a slow, simmering anger in my chest, the kind that burned cold.
My vision wavered, and without conscious intent a translucent window of glowing script unfolded before me—a status screen unlike any I had ever seen. It pulsed in time with my heartbeat, letters sharpening into clear words:
[STATUS UPDATE] New Ability Acquired: Collar Breaker — Enables the dismantling of magical restraints through targeted Magic Creation.
The words thrummed softly, echoing the resolve and fury surging through me. My fingers tightened around the cold iron ring, knuckles whitening. I exhaled slowly, feeling the hum of the new ability in my veins. Now I had the means to rip apart every last one of these cursed things, and I would not stop until I did.
With a deep breath, I turned to the first captive. Their breath caught, eyes wide and glistening. "It won't hurt," I promised, letting my tone carry a steady warmth. I pressed my hand to the collar and let the Collar Breaker's weave pour through my fingers. The runes sparked faintly, a brittle shimmer of resistance before they cracked like thin ice. A sharp click rang out, and the collar slid to the ground with a dull thud.
The captive's face melted from shock into relief, lips parting in an almost disbelieving gasp. "I… it's gone," they whispered, voice shaking. A trembling laugh escaped them, and the sound seemed to break some invisible dam.
Others began to rise and form a hesitant line, exchanging glances filled with nervous hope. "Please, me next," one urged quietly. I nodded, moving to them in turn.
Each removal was a moment of quiet victory—the lock releasing, the collar falling away, and the way shoulders straightened as if a mountain had been lifted from them. Laughter started small, fragile like frost on early grass, but it was real and warm, growing with each freed soul. A beastfolk child, his ears twitching in shy gratitude, darted forward and clung to my sleeve.
"Thank you," he mumbled, refusing to let go until I bent down and ruffled his hair. His soft giggle earned smiles from those nearby. An older woman clasped my hands after hers came free, eyes wet. "We thought we'd die in those," she said, voice trembling.
"Not while I'm here," I replied firmly.
Some of the older captives began to meet my eyes without flinching, tentative trust replacing the old terror. Yet in a few of them—those whose gazes lingered too long, whose pupils tightened in ways most would miss—I saw a different sharpness. They could sense I wasn't normal, not entirely, and that awareness sat in their eyes like a question they hadn't dared to ask.
I took a slow breath, knowing they deserved honesty as much as they needed comfort. "You're safe here," I told them, letting my gaze sweep over their tired, expectant faces.
I went on, my voice low but carrying in the firelit clearing. "I'm not human. I'm… different. This mask I'll wear hides my vampiric features, so you won't have to worry about the idea of me biting you, and you won't have to see them unless you choose to. It's for your peace of mind as much as mine. I can't walk in sunlight, and I will sleep during the day, but the barrier will guard you even while I rest. Inside it, you can live without fear; outside it, I cannot protect you from what waits beyond." As I spoke, I drew a skull‑like mask from my pack and held it up for all to see.
Murmurs rippled through the group. Some voices held relief, others a thread of unease. A young beastfolk girl asked softly, "So… you won't drink from us?" I shook my head firmly. "I don't drink from children. I am looking for other supplments to feed me. But.. I will take from bad people, people that have hurt others just like you." A man with weathered hands exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he said, "Then that's all we need to know."
The weight of the vow settled heavy in my chest, yet for the first time in a long while, I felt the truth of my own words. After so long with only Nyx for company, speaking to people—hearing their voices, seeing the spark of life return to their faces—warmed something in me I had almost forgotten existed. In the glow of the fire, I saw joy flicker in weary eyes, heard soft sighs of relief, and watched quiet nods spread among them—a fragile but growing belief that they were, at last, safe. And for the first time since my arrival in this world, I felt less alone.