The Stranger's Oath
The forest deepened as they walked, each tree taller than the last, their crowns lost in shadow and light. Elias kept glancing back, half-hoping the strange stone door might still be behind him, waiting to lead him home. But when he turned, there was nothing—only a wall of ancient trunks and woven branches.
His chest tightened. *It's gone. I can't go back.*
Kaelen moved ahead without hesitation. They walked like someone who had walked this path a hundred times, each step soundless, each glance sharp. Elias hurried after them, stumbling on roots and clutching branches for balance. He felt ungainly beside the seasoned fighter, like a child trailing after an adult who tolerated him only out of necessity.
At last, Elias spoke, his voice thin in the heavy air. "Where are we going?"
Kaelen didn't look back. "Somewhere safer than here."
"That's not really an answer."
"No." Kaelen's tone was flat, final.
Elias scowled. "Well, maybe I deserve one. I didn't ask to come here. I didn't even know this place existed until—"
Kaelen halted so abruptly that Elias nearly crashed into them. The fighter turned, eyes hard, their presence suddenly filling the clearing.
"You crossed a threshold few ever see," Kaelen said, voice low but edged like steel. "Whether you asked for it or not, this world has claimed you. That is the only answer that matters."
Elias swallowed hard. "Claimed me? I don't even know what that means."
Kaelen studied him, something unreadable flickering across their expression. Then, more quietly: "It means you cannot go back unchanged. Not now."
The words struck Elias like a weight. He turned away, staring at the glowing moss under his boots, the threads of faint light strung in the branches above. The beauty of it all pressed against the fear in his chest, leaving him dizzy.
"I don't want this," he muttered.
Kaelen's voice softened. "No one ever does."
They pressed on until the forest opened into a clearing ringed with stones. Some stood tall, carved with runes that flickered faintly, while others had toppled long ago, half-buried in moss. In the center burned a small fire, though no hand had lit it. The flames rose silver-white, their light bending the shadows into patterns that looked almost like faces.
Kaelen motioned for Elias to sit. "Rest. You'll need it."
Elias lowered himself onto one of the fallen stones, his legs aching. "Need it for what?"
Kaelen crouched beside the fire, feeding it with twigs that didn't burn but instead dissolved into light. "For surviving."
Elias let out a nervous laugh. "You really don't make things sound better, you know."
Kaelen looked at him then, eyes sharper than the firelight. "I will not lie to you, Elias. Lies soften fear, but they leave you unprepared. Truth may cut deep, but it arms you."
Elias blinked. "You know my name?"
"The door spoke it when you entered."
He shivered. He hadn't heard anything.
Kaelen's gaze held his a moment longer, then they turned back to the fire. "You wonder why you were chosen."
"Of course I do." Elias's voice cracked. "I'm no one. I can't fight. I can't—"
"Enough." Kaelen's tone silenced him. They drew the sword from their side, laying it across their knees. Its silver-threaded hilt gleamed faintly in the strange light. "I swore an oath long ago. To guard this realm, to stand against the dark that gnaws at its edges. That oath binds me still. But when the door opened for you, Elias, it bound you as well. Whether you like it or not, your life is threaded into this tapestry now."
Elias stared at the sword, at the calm certainty in Kaelen's voice. He wanted to protest, to say again that he wasn't ready, that he wasn't meant for any of this. But the words shriveled in his throat.
"What if I fail?" he whispered.
Kaelen's eyes lifted, fierce and unwavering. "Then you rise again. That is all failure means."
For a long time, neither spoke. The fire crackled with silver sparks, and the forest leaned in close, as though listening.
---
Later, when the fire had burned low, Kaelen unsheathed a small blade from their belt. They drew it lightly across their palm, just enough to bead blood. Elias gasped.
"What are you doing?"
Kaelen's voice was solemn. "An oath is more than words. It is a binding. If I am to guide you, then I swear this: I will not let the threads consume you."
They turned their hand, letting the blood fall into the fire. The flames hissed, flaring brighter. For an instant, Elias thought he saw shapes in them—shadows recoiling, light weaving tighter.
Kaelen sheathed the blade and held Elias's gaze. "Now you."
"Me?" Elias's voice shot up. "No, I can't—"
"You must," Kaelen said, firm but not unkind. "The threads claim you, but you must claim them in return. Otherwise, they will unravel you."
Elias's chest pounded. His hands shook. "I don't even know what I'm swearing to."
"You swear to endure," Kaelen said simply. "That is all."
The firelight danced on Elias's face. He thought of his village, of the people who had always seen him as strange, distracted, never fitting. He thought of the door, the glow under his hand, the forest that breathed like something alive. He thought of Kaelen's steady eyes, the strength in their voice.
And somehow, beneath his fear, a spark lit in him.
Elias reached out, pressing his hand over the fire. The heat licked at his skin but did not burn. "I swear… to endure."
The flames leapt, wrapping his hand in silver light before fading. His palm was unmarked, but something deeper had shifted.
Kaelen nodded once. "So it is bound."
Elias pulled his hand back, staring. "That's it? I just… swore myself to something I don't understand?"
Kaelen's mouth curved, the barest shadow of a smile. "Welcome to the realm beneath, Elias. Understanding comes later. Endurance comes first."
---
That night, Elias lay awake on the moss, staring at the strange sky through the canopy. Threads of light drifted there, weaving in and out of sight, like stars caught in a loom. He pressed his palm to his chest, feeling the echo of the oath.
Kaelen sat watch by the silver fire, silent and unmovable. The sword rested across their knees, gleaming faintly. Elias wondered what battles those hands had fought, what losses they carried behind their steady eyes.
The thought was unsettling and comforting all at once.
As sleep finally pulled at him, Elias realized he had stepped into a story he did not choose. But the oath—his oath—bound him to see it through.
And somewhere deep inside, a quiet part of him whispered that perhaps he had been waiting for this all along.