As I finished school in this poor village I've lived in all my life, the first thing I wanted to do was leave.
I spent the day quietly preparing. I gathered what little I owned—some bread, a warm cloak, the worn-out book I loved the most—and tucked everything into a small bundle. I waited for nightfall. The house creaked with familiar sounds, and I checked on my parents one last time. They were fast asleep, unaware of my plan.
I was old enough for marriage now, and they had already begun searching for a "suitable" man. I had completed all the schooling available here—and I had loved learning—but the village and its rituals felt like a cage built from another time. I wasn't going to spend my life in this cottage, married off too young, raising a string of children while testing my strength in the fields every day until I broke.
So I packed. And I left.
The night air was cool as I stepped onto the dirt road. For now, I chose a path I knew, one that wouldn't trip me in the dark. But ahead, somewhere past the hills and the edge of everything familiar, I hoped a new life waited—one that belonged to me.
I walked and walked, staying on the road for a few days. I caught small fish in the rivers and springs I passed, even managed to trap a few tiny crabs. Sometimes, I took quick baths in the streams—just enough to rinse off the dust and sweat. One afternoon, I dove into a clear pool, letting the cold water shock my skin awake.
My long black hair clung to my body as I scrubbed myself clean. My skin, pale and unblemished like porcelain, barely changed even under the harsh sun. Not a scratch, not a freckle. My genetics were a quiet miracle—every woman in the village envied my complexion, seeing it as the mark of a perfect bride.
But I had escaped that.
I had no intention of bending to their old ways, of being paraded like a prize for marriage. I wouldn't waste my life being silent and obedient, working in the fields by day and raising children by night. My path would be my own.
One day, as I continued walking, I turned off onto a smaller road—barely more than a trail—winding through thick bushes and climbing slowly toward the nearby mountains. It led me even farther from my village, deeper into silence.
I wasn't afraid of wild animals. My parents had taught me well—how to avoid danger, how to spot tracks, and even how to set a few basic traps. The forest was alive, but I moved through it like someone who belonged.
As the path narrowed, sloping upward between tall stones and moss-covered roots, I suddenly froze.
A sound.
Sharp, quick—something breaking in the brush ahead.
It was humans.
My body tensed as instinct took over. I crouched low and tried to hide—but the bushes nearby were thick with thorns, scratching at my skin when I pushed against them. I glanced around, searching for a better hiding place, but there was nothing close enough.
Before I could move again, several men leapt onto the path ahead.
They saw me instantly.
Crooked smiles twisted their faces as they locked eyes with me. Without a word, they broke into a run—fast and eager, like wolves spotting prey.
I turned and bolted.
Panic burned through my chest as I sprinted downhill, heart pounding like a drum in my ears. Behind me, the heavy thud of boots and the crack of branches filled the air.
Their faces were filthy, twisted with something foul. Their clothes were stained, ragged. Blood clung to the blades in their hands—old and fresh, glistening red. There was nothing human left in their eyes.
They caught me quickly.
I need to run faster, I thought, panic roaring in my chest. These men… they could kill me.
In my innocence, I hadn't even considered what else they might do.
Their footsteps thundered behind me, and then—hands. Rough and sudden. One of them grabbed me from behind, yanking me to a halt.
"No!" I cried, twisting in their grasp. "Stop it! Don't touch me!"
They only laughed—a cold, heartless sound.
One pressed a knife to my neck, the sharp edge biting lightly into my skin. "Scream again," he growled, "and you'll never speak another word. Obey, and maybe you live."
Another sneered and reached for my clothing, tearing at the fabric.
Fear turned to fire in my veins. My heart pounded, and my vision blurred—not from tears, but from something else rising deep within me. A pulse. A pressure. Something ancient. Something awakening.
Before I could react or fight back, a voice echoed from behind a tree.
"I knew I'd find your group here. I've had enough of you making a mess on my mountain."
The men froze and turned sharply toward the voice.
And then I saw him.
He was breathtaking.
What a beauty, I thought, eyes wide.
His long, shiny black hair flowed down his back, with just a few strands resting over his broad shoulder and chest. His blue robe was spotless, wrapped perfectly around a lean, muscular body that moved with effortless grace. There was something otherworldly in the way he stood—calm but powerful.
What a beauty.
I didn't even realize I'd spoken the words aloud.
The bandit holding me tightened the knife against my skin.
I drew a shaky breath as the cold blade pressed closer, the threat sharper than ever.
The new man turned to me, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his sharp features.
One of the gangsters still held me tightly, while the others charged at the stranger, weapons raised and ready to strike.
But before their blades could swing, he swept his hand through the air.
In an instant, all of them were hurled backward—thrown into bushes and crashing against trees. They groaned in pain, struggling to rise but clearly overwhelmed.
The last one holding me released his grip and stumbled back, fear flickering across his face. He stammered something, but before he could finish, I whipped my backpack around and slammed it hard into his face.
His head snapped sideways, eyes rolling back.
He slowly turned his gaze and raised his weapon.
Before I could react, a fierce wind, sharp as an arrow, shot past me and struck the man down, knocking him unconscious.
He collapsed to the ground, unmoving.
I didn't know if he was alive or dead.
I felt him coming closer from behind me.
His steps were slow, quiet—like the mountain itself was making space for him.
I turned.
He was looking right at me, and for a second, the whole world stilled. My breath caught in my throat. My heart, already pounding from fear, now beat for a different reason entirely. Something fluttered low in my stomach—light and wild like butterflies.
How is he so charming-looking? I couldn't help but stare. His presence was calm, composed, but his beauty… it almost hurt to look at. The way his hair shimmered under the light, the way his robe fell perfectly across his shoulders—it all felt unreal.
He finally broke the silence.
"Are you all right now?" he asked, voice smooth and steady. "You should leave these mountains. There are groups of murderers walking these roads. Go down the path. There are safer villages nearby."
He looked at me once more, then turned slightly. "You should be safe for now. Go."
I just stood there.
Go? Why would I go? After seeing that face… after feeling this strange calm just from being near him?
Leave? When I had just found the first person in my life who made me feel like I wasn't alone?
I dropped to my knees without thinking, still breathless. "Oh, my lifesaver… please. Take me with you."
He paused. His face barely changed, but something shifted in his eyes.
Then came his answer—sharp and cold.
"No."
I clenched my teeth, just a little, but it was enough to feel my frustration rise.
I had dropped to my knees for him.
Begged.
And he gave me nothing but a cold "No."
I stayed there for a moment longer, staring at the spot where he had stood. My knees pressed against the dirt. My hands clenched into fists in my lap. Was that it? Was I supposed to just say thank you and walk away?
While I was still processing it all—he turned.
Without another word, he began walking up the road, his long robe catching the wind behind him like a piece of sky.
I narrowed my eyes.
No.
He doesn't get to just vanish into the trees like some passing ghost.
I stood, brushed the dirt from my knees, grabbed my bag, and walked after him.