I woke up, and the world was soft at the edges.
My head felt stuffed with wool. A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes, but it was distant, like a memory of pain. The sharp, cracking agony in my ribs was gone. In its place was a deep, all-over soreness, the kind you get after a long fever. My body felt heavy, used up.
Voices filtered through the fog, sounding kind of urgent, but not panicked. Warm air brushed my skin, and I could make out the flickering light from a fire somewhere nearby. It crackled softly, mixing with the quiet conversation of two people.
I tried to sit up, and my limbs moved slow, like I was pushing them through thick water. Nothing hurt, but nothing felt right either. It was like my body was just... borrowed.
"…take her to Meltedour? It's just a few kilometers west of here..." a man's voice, steady but with a little hesitation.
"Master, we can't just leave her all alone. She's... she's been through too much. We have to help her," a girl's voice, younger, but firm.
My brain was still catching up. Alone? The word snagged on something in the fog.
I blinked slowly, trying to shake it off. Everything was wrong. The straw mattress, the cold drafts, the smell of the compost pit... it was all gone. Replaced by warmth and the scent of pine smoke.
As I focused on the voices, I saw the girl first. She couldn't have been much older than me, maybe around my age.
Her soft golden hair fell around her shoulders, glowing in the firelight, and her grey eyes were... well, I don't know how to explain it, but they made me feel safe. It was like looking at a gentle storm, calm on the outside but with something deep and unreadable beneath.
Her clothes were simple; white blouse, red vest, black skirt, and black leggings, but they looked well-made. Almost like a noblewoman.
Then, I turned to the guy. Arden, I remembered the girl call him. He looked older. His dark skin blended into the shadows from the firelight, and this black robe made him almost disappear in the dark. He wore dark-lensed glasses that hid his eyes, but I could still feel his attention.
He had this quiet authority, but not in a scary way. The rings and bracelet on his wrist caught the light, and I could see something about him that made it hard to look away.
I tried to move, to sit up, but my body was heavy, slow. My limbs ached with a strange heaviness, like walking through thick water. I wasn't sure what, but it was like my body didn't quite feel... right.
"You're awake!" the girl said, her voice gentle. "We were getting worried. You've been asleep for almost an hour, and you were seriously injured when we found you."
I turned toward Arden, trying to figure him out. There was this air of... stillness around him. His short curly hair and a bit of stubble gave him a rough look, but those glasses made it hard to read him.
I swallowed, trying to get a grip on myself, but it didn't do much. "Thank you," I said, barely above a whisper. It was stupid, but it was all I had.
Arden didn't answer, not with words anyway. He shifted a little, just enough to make it look like he was done with the moment. I thought he was brushing me off at first, but then something shimmered at his side, quick and soft like pulling a thread from air.
Just a flick of his wrist, and something small appeared into his hand. He didn't make a show of it, didn't explain. Just turned away again like it was nothing. Like pulling stuff out of thin air was the most normal thing in the world.
Sora leaned closer, her voice warm but steady. "It's okay," she said. "We'll take care of you. Just… rest for now, alright?"
Sure, rest. Like I hadn't just woken up to two complete strangers that might kill me for all I know.
"What happened to my village?" I asked. My throat felt dry, voice tight.
I already knew. I think I'd known the second I woke up. But I wanted to hear it anyway, like that'd make it real. Like hearing someone else say it would snap me back to reality.
Sora paused. Too long. "I'm sorry," she said, and I could hear the crack in her voice. "It didn't make it. Everyone…" Her words faded out before she could finish, but she didn't have to. I got it.
The words didn't land right. Like they just floated there. I felt them, kind of, but it was like my brain refused to accept the truth.
The words just hung there. They didn't feel real. Everyone? That couldn't be right. I'd just been there. The butcher's wife, Old Man Harrod, even those stupid brats by the well... all of it was just... gone?
I stared into the fire for a while. My hands were shaking and I didn't even notice at first. "That doesn't make sense," I mumbled, more to myself than anyone else. "They wouldn't… why would they even come? There's nothing to take. Nothing worth burning down. And ogres? Since when do ogres take orders from bandits?"
That part had been bothering me since I woke up, rattling around in the back of my head like a loose stone I couldn't shake loose.
Arden, still sitting with his back to us, finally spoke. "They were being controlled."
I blinked. "What?"
"The ogres. They were being controlled by the humans. Something bound them together, something they wouldn't agree to on their own. Simply put…uh, a mind manipulation spell, I'd recon."
He tapped the air like he was drawing invisible lines. "It was dark magic, to be exact. The taboo kind."
I swallowed hard. "So someone made them do it?"
"Most likely," he said, calm as ever. "And they knew what they were doing. Whoever it was wanted to erase that place. No survivors. No nothin'. Can't tell you why, though."
My breath caught in my throat. I hadn't realized until now how cold I felt.
Sora hugged her knees to her chest, voice quiet. "There's been signs of weird activity lately, with monsters acting strange. It's not just your village."
"Then who? Why?" I asked, not really expecting an answer. Just needing to say something.
No one answered.
Then Arden turned slightly and held something out toward me. A small glass vial, with pale green liquid, swirling faintly. "Uh… this is for the pain. It's not poison."
I didn't move. Just stared at it like he'd handed me a bottle of poison.
"What is it?" I asked, voice tighter than I wanted it to be.
"A potion," he said simply. "It'll help with the pain. Restore stamina, numb some of the bruising. Nothing dangerous. Couldn't make you drink it while you were out."
I still didn't take it.
"If you're worried, check the bottom," he added. "There's a crest."
Hesitantly, I took the vial from him and tilted it just enough to see underneath. There, etched into the glass, was a small emblem I barely recognized, something like a stylized tree entwined with a sword.
I blinked. "What's that?"
"Veridiana's official seal," Sora explained, scooting a bit closer. "It means it was made legally. All verified potions have it. There's even a trace dye inside that reacts if it's tampered with. See the color at the bottom?"
She pointed at a small stripe of blue painted across the end of the vial. "That's the original color. If the potion turns that color, it means it's still safe to use. No poisons, no shady ingredients."
I stared at the vial for a second longer, then very slowly uncorked it.
"You don't have to trust us," Sora said gently. "But this part's okay."
I hesitated one more breath. Then drank.
It was warm. A little bitter, but not in a bad way. The ache in my ribs softened almost immediately, like something heavy had been peeled off my lungs.
My shoulders relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Something gnawed at the back of my mind, but I pushed it away as exhaustion.
I let out a long, shaky breath. "...Thanks," I muttered. Not because I trusted them yet, but because maybe I didn't have to do everything alone right that second.
Arden waved it off like it was nothing. "We were nearby. Didn't make it in time, but we're here now."
"Nearby" doing what? But his silence felt like a wall, and I was too tired to climb it.
I stared into the fire. The flames crackled softly, but my thoughts were louder. Why me? Why my village? If they were just passing by, then it really was all random, wasn't it? Wrong place. Wrong time.
Arden said nothing else. He just sat there, arms resting on his knees, tapping his fingers against the air like he was playing with threads only he could see.
I caught myself watching him again, trying to figure out if there was anything behind those glasses. Some hint of what he was thinking.
I flinched slightly at the sound of the fire crackling. Sora glanced at me, offered a small smile like she'd seen it all before.
Then silence started to stretch. Not the peaceful or relaxed kind. It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Arden's head tilted, barely, just enough to be noticeable. His fingers stopped moving, his entire posture shifting subtly. He exchanged a look with Sora, who nodded back in an unspoken conversation.
Then I caught movement beyond the firelight, figures darting through the shadow. My breath hitched, heart pounding painfully against my ribs.
These weren't just ordinary bandits. No, these were the same ones who had struck my village, the humans cloaked in dark robes, their faces hidden behind those eerie masks that gave them a cold, unnatural edge. The memory of their silent menace and the fear they sowed came crashing back like a tidal wave.
They were here.
"We're surrounded," he said, his tone steady and calm despite the situation.
My stomach twisted, and I turned toward the trees. Ther was nothing there. Just thick dark and the crackle of our fire. No movement, no snarling bandits twirling daggers dramatically. Just silence. The kind that feels like it's waiting.
"Bandits?" Sora asked. Her voice was sharp, but not surprised, as if used to these sorts of encounters.
Arden nodded once. "Quite a few. All of them are armored, but nothing we can't handle. I can also feel a stronger one in the back."
I blinked at him. "How do you even-"
He didn't answer, rising to his feet with one graceful motion. "Stay by the fire," he said over his shoulder. "Both of you."
Sora didn't argue. She just folded her legs neatly and stayed exactly where she was. Like this was all part of the plan.
I didn't argue either. There was something about him, something in the way he moved. Like he'd been through this a hundred times already and didn't feel like explaining it again.
Fear crept in, quiet at first, then all at once. I kept trying to peer into the trees, praying that nothing would jump out at me. The forest pressed in on every side. Every shadow looked like it might move. Every gust of wind sounded like a footstep.
Sora sat beside me, either calm or pretending very well. Her hands were folded in her lap, posture perfect. But the way she bit her lips just a fraction… those eyes that tracked Arden, gave away the concern she had for him.
I wanted to believe her when she said, "He knows what he's doing." But the words landed empty. Because I didn't know what to do. Not after losing my village. Not after being turned away from the last place I'd thought maybe I could start over.
Sora glanced at me, leaning closer in a way that felt both kind and strange. "We're safe here. He won't let them get close."
Her voice was soft, the kind you use when you're trying to soothe a frightened child. Maybe she saw the wild look in my eyes, the way my breath hitched.
I didn't respond.
Arden raised his hands, and the air shifted. Not like a wind, but like the world itself took a sharp breath. Light flared around him, rings of shifting runes spinning slow and steady like wheels from some messed-up cart. The magic looked fierce, way more beautiful and frightening than I'd ever seen.
The assailants didn't come charging in like idiots. They slid out of the trees in near silence, dressed in rough leathers and carrying sharp daggers, metal glinting in the moonlight. These weren't back-alley thugs. They were coordinated fighters.
Just perfect.
A shimmer of magic snapped out from one of the glowing circles and spread around me and Sora like a dome, just see-through enough to make the outside look even worse. I didn't need an explanation. The gentle hum and the feeling of something solid between us and the world said enough.
And then Arden lit them up.
Red light burst from his spell circles like he'd grabbed a handful of lightning and decided to throw it. Dozens of the things flew out, each one finding a target without him even looking. Every flash slammed into someone, and bodies just… flew. They hit trees, crumpled on the ground, didn't get up.
It wasn't a fight. It was cleanup.
I ducked, even though I knew nothing was getting through the barrier. The sounds outside were muffled, distant. But that didn't stop my heart from trying to beat its way out of my chest.
Sora's hand brushed my arm. She gave me a smile that was supposed to be reassuring. It was small, awkward. She wasn't great at hiding the tension in her shoulders or the way her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. But she was trying. I think that counted for something.
Arden moved like a ghost. Shadows curled around his arms like snakes, stretched out into long, writhing tentacles that snapped and whipped through the air. They yanked weapons from hands, wrapped around legs, hurled people into trees with wet, nasty thuds.
His sword flicked through the dark like a knife through silk, clean and impossibly fast.
The whole thing felt weirdly quiet. Or maybe that was just the magic dome. It was like watching a brutal play from the safest seat in the house, the sounds of breaking bones and dying shouts nothing more than dull thumps against the shimmering wall.
Then something slammed into the barrier. Hard.
I flinched as the dome flared, throwing light across Sora's face and mine. Her smile faltered for half a second.
"He'll be fine," she said again, firmer this time. Maybe for me. Maybe for her.
A low hum vibrated through the air. Deep and metallic and wrong. The kind of sound that feels like it was designed specifically to make your bones remember bad things.
Birds exploded from the trees, screeching into the night sky.
And then he appeared.
The knight stepped into the clearing like he owned the shadows. Each step was quiet, but heavy enough to make the ground feel small. Even the bandits shut up, shrinking back into the dark like they'd just realized a bigger predator was here.
He stopped a few paces from Arden and turned his helmet. I couldn't see his face, but I didn't need to. His presence did all the talking.
"So you're the one," his voice was rough, like stones grinding together. "The ghost they whisper about. The one who leaves nothing but corpses behind."
Arden didn't answer. He just pushed his glasses up with one finger, his face a blank slate.
The knight let out a short, harsh laugh. "All those years of training. All that struggle for a cause. And it comes down to this. Facing a man who doesn't even have the decency to look afraid."
He was talking faster now, his voice rising like he was trying to convince himself this was all worth it. Arden listened, but you could tell his mind was somewhere else entirely.
When the knight finally raised his sword, the blade caught the light. "Show me," he said, and his tone was almost hungry. "Let's see what the ghost can do."
Arden moved before the last word faded. There was no flash of power, no sound of spell or steel, just a sudden, clean motion that made it hard to follow. The knight's sword came down with a roar, but it struck empty air. Arden had already passed him, and a faint red line glowed across the knight's armor.
For a moment nothing seemed to happen, until the pauldron split down the middle with a crack and fell to the ground.
Arden raised his hand. Runes lit up beneath the knight's boots, spreading out in a circle before releasing a pulse that hurled him backward into a tree. The impact shook loose a shower of leaves.
That was enough to send the bandits running, though they didn't get far. Black tendrils rose from the ground, coiling around their legs and throats before dragging them into the dirt. Screams filled the clearing, sharp and panicked, cut short by flashes of crimson light that tore through them faster than the eye could follow.
The knight was still moving. Slowly, painfully, but he refused to fall. Smoke rose from the seams in his armor where the runes had burned through, and his breathing came in ragged bursts. Even so, he lifted his sword again.
Arden didn't let him recover. A thin and silent shadow slipped from his sleeve and pierced the knight's chestplate as easily as water breaking around a stone. For a brief second he stood motionless, and then the armor folded inward with a dull crunch. The knight staggered back, gasping once, twice, before the sword slipped from his hand and dropped into the moss. He fell soon after, landing face-first beside it.
Silence returned, heavy and complete.
Arden brushed the dirt from his sleeve, his expression as calm as before. "Let's keep moving," he said quietly, and turned away.
I didn't follow at first. I just stood there, staring at the body, half expecting it to move again. My legs wouldn't obey me. My mind wouldn't either.
Why?
What kind of person walks through a massacre and doesn't even flinch?
That knight, a man built for battle, the kind people carve into statues, was dead. Just dead. Sliced open and dropped like firewood. The air smelled sharp and heavy, full of blood and something burnt.
And that man, Arden, was already walking like none of it mattered.
I followed after him eventually, because what else was I supposed to do? Stopping wasn't an option. Neither was falling apart.