Faelan took a proper shower, washing away the grime and sweat from the journey.
Afterward, he sank into the warm bath, tension slowly leaving his muscles as the fatigue began to fade.
His eyes drifted to his abdomen—still well-defined, untouched.
He thought back to the moment Rakreim had sliced him open. The memory came in flashes: blood, exposed organs, the unbearable sensation of his body spilling apart.
Faelan shook his head sharply.
He didn't want to think about that day.
His gaze shifted toward the washstand beside the tub. His clothes rested there alongside a small wooden box.
His expression darkened slightly.
Then he looked up at the ceiling.
"I wonder how you're doing…" he murmured quietly.
***Few years earlier***
Faelan picked a direction, aiming for what he hoped was the edge of the forest. He let instinct guide him around thick underbrush and strange glimmering growths that pulsed faintly in the shade.
Waracas—small luminous creatures with translucent wings—fluttered ahead of him. They had startled him at first. Now, they almost seemed to guide him.
His senses had sharpened during the year he'd survived there. Roots. Branches.
Subtle shifts beneath his feet. Every sound, movement, and scent was cataloged before he reacted.
By midday, he stopped at a stream, drinking deeply before splashing water across his face.
His reflection wavered in the current. Dark hair clung to his forehead. Sun-marked skin stretched over lean muscle, his arms lined with fading scars. His eyes looked older now—sharp, wary.
Faelan took a slow breath and continued on.
As Faelan moved deeper into the forest, it grew denser. Darker. The air itself felt heavier, thick with the scent of something predatory.
Every broken branch, every scrape along the bark, every strange marking carved into the trees felt deliberate—a warning, or perhaps a claim.
He crouched slightly, studying the signs. Deep gashes. Twisted notches. Spiral-like scratches etched unnaturally into the wood.
Not random.
A language.
The markings of whatever ruled this territory.
The forest itself seemed alert. Leaves twitched at the slightest breeze, underbrush trembling softly beneath the invisible pressure of unseen eyes.
Faelan kept low, moving carefully through the shadows.
Each step carried intention: avoid dry leaves, stay downwind, watch the corners of his vision. His ears strained for any sound—a shifting branch, a snapped twig, the faintest growl.
Then he saw it.
A flash of movement, low and fluid, weaving between the trees.
Its fur—or something close to it—caught the filtered sunlight in unnatural streaks. Sharp eyes locked onto his.
Faelan froze.
His breathing shallowed as his muscles tightened instinctively.
The creature's body remained low and coiled, like a spring moments from release.
And its gaze never left him.
His heart pounded—not just from fear, but from the surge of adrenaline sharpening his senses to their limit.
The predator stepped closer, its paws pressing deliberate marks into the soft earth. Every movement felt controlled. Intentional.
Not the behavior of a mindless beast.
It was asserting dominance.
Slowly, Faelan began to circle as well, keeping the creature in view while trying not to expose himself fully—futile as that effort was.
He studied it carefully. Its size. The way its claws sank soundlessly into the soil. The faint shimmer running along its back, a natural camouflage that blurred its outline against the twisted foliage.
The predator stopped.
Its ears twitched once before it lowered itself into a crouch, tail sweeping slowly behind it.
Its eyes remained fixed on him. Unblinking. Intelligent.
Faelan understood then that any sudden movement could trigger the attack.
Time stretched strangely after that.
Predator and human circled one another in silence, each measuring the other carefully.
The predator growled low—almost a whisper.
Faelan froze.
The moment had come.
It launched itself forward with terrifying speed, muscles coiling and releasing like springs, claws outstretched.
Faelan barely reacted in time. He threw himself to the side as the creature's claws carved deep into the earth where he had stood moments earlier.
He hit the ground hard, then forced himself back to his feet immediately.
One mistake was enough to die here.
The forest echoed the attack. Leaves shook violently. Branches snapped beneath the predator's weight.
Faelan kept his eyes on it, studying every movement even as it studied him in return.
It lunged again.
This time, he sidestepped at the last possible second, and the creature crashed into a tree with a heavy thud.
Or so he thought.
Its claws sank into the trunk instantly.
In a blur of motion, the predator climbed upward, disappearing into the canopy as it leapt from tree to tree overhead.
Faelan realized then that this was no mere beast.
It wasn't mindless.
It was learning. Adapting. Every dodge, every movement he made was information to it.
Silence followed.
No rustling leaves. No growls. Nothing to prove it was still there except Faelan's instincts screaming at him.
He moved.
Pain tore across his chest.
Blood spread beneath fresh claw marks—shallow, but enough.
First blood.
Faelan barely saw the creature retreat back into the trees, already preparing for another attack.
Faelan's heart pounded like a drum, each beat reverberating through his chest.
His dark green eyes scanned the trees.
Tall. Still.
As though even the wind was afraid to move through them.
Faelan planted his feet firmly against the uneven ground, moss and loose soil pressing beneath his toes.
It lunged.
Its body coiled and snapped forward like a spring.
Faelan ducked instinctively, but sharp claws still raked across his back.
The forest erupted around them. Leaves scattered violently as the creature vanished back into the trees.
Again.
SKRRRTCH
Pain tore across him.
Again.
SKRRRTCH
Another strike. Too fast to fully track.
Again.
The creature was relentless.
Faelan dropped to one knee, gasping sharply as blood spilled from his wounds.
The last attack had cut deeper than the others.
***
He stood in a river beside a man who looked to be in his forties.
The mark running along the man's back was fully visible as he caught fish with his bare hands.
The man turned toward Faelan, saying something he couldn't quite hear over the rushing water, while wrestling with a creature nearly half his size.
***
Faelan's eyes snapped back to the trees.
Then he ran at them.
Using his momentum, he leapt upward, catching a branch before pulling himself deeper into the creature's territory.
A low growl sounded behind him.
The predator followed slowly at first, deliberate, until only a single tree separated them.
Faelan slowed his breathing.
In its glowing eyes, he caught his own reflection. Slitted pupils stared back at him. Fur that looked more like sharpened bristles than hair.
The creature closed the distance instantly.
Its jaws clamped into Faelan's shoulder.
Pain exploded through him, but he didn't retreat. He gritted his teeth and wrapped both arms around the beast as tightly as he could.
THUMPP
Their bodies crashed violently into the earth below.
The dust settled.
The battle didn't.
Neither loosened their grip.
The creature's jaws dug deeper into Faelan's shoulder, drawing fresh blood.
Faelan answered with wild, repeated strikes, smashing his ruined hand into the beast again and again until it became barely recognizable beneath the blood coating it.
SQUIRRCCHH
The creature's claws sank deep into his sides.
Blood filled Faelan's mouth.
He cried out in pain, trembling as he forced himself to look into the beast's bloodshot eye.
GRRRAAARGGHH
With a desperate roar, Faelan drove what remained of his hand straight into the creature's eye.
He pushed his arm deeper—past the wrist, past the elbow.
The beast spasmed violently.
Its jaws released his shoulder, claws tearing free from his sides as it twisted uncontrollably across the forest floor, dragging Faelan's ragged body along with it.
It tried to flee.
Faelan was losing blood fast. Strength drained from him with every passing second. He dug his feet into the earth, trying to resist, but the creature was still stronger.
Trees cracked around them as the beast slammed both itself and Faelan against every trunk in its path.
Then it collapsed again.
Faelan pushed deeper.
The creature's movements began to slow—little by little—until finally, it went still.
Dead.
Faelan had nothing left. Not even enough strength to pull his arm free from the beast's skull.
His breathing slowed.
And his vision faded into black.
He woke but he didn't see the forest he was in for months. He was in a house,he was treated, no longer bleeding and was covered in bandages
***
Faelan's eyes fluttered open.
The harsh scent of the forest was gone, replaced by something sterile and faintly medicinal.
Soft sunlight filtered through a small window, dust drifting lazily in the warm glow.
His body felt strange. Not the raw agony of battle, but a dull, unfamiliar comfort.
Bandages wrapped around his arms, chest, and leg, their tight pressure reminding him how close he had come to dying.
He tried to move.
Pain shot through his ribs immediately, forcing a groan from him. His arms throbbed with even the slightest motion, but the bleeding had stopped.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he realized he could breathe without panic. His heartbeat no longer thundered with the constant rhythm of survival.
Faelan slowly took in the room.
Simple. Modest. Wooden floors. Shelves lined with jars and vials. A small stove tucked into the corner.
And quiet.
Comfortably quiet.
No rustling vines. No distant growls. No glowing eyes hidden in the dark.
Only silence.
Only safety—or something close to it.
The door creaked open.
A woman stepped inside, calm and composed. She wore a smile, though it looked painfully forced.
As she approached, Faelan's vision drifted again.