Kael lay on the parched soil of the Nimbra ruins, staring up at the sky. He still wondered why it remained bright and blue, even though every fiber of his body insisted he had already spent an entire day trapped here.
"Grrh!" His stomach grumbled loudly, the hands of hunger clamping down on him without mercy. He glanced at the sack of grains beside him, hesitating for a moment before forcing himself to shovel handfuls into his mouth.
"Bleurgh!" He gagged, face twisting in disgust. The grains carried a metallic, tangy aftertaste that refused to leave his tongue. He swallowed the last gritty mouthful anyway, then hurled the empty sack across the cracked ground. The idea of rinsing his mouth with water flickered through his mind, but he pushed it away. He had only one bottle left. His gaze drifted to the fresh tattoo etched into his right shoulder. It pulsed faintly, resonating with something he could neither see nor understand. All that filled his vision were the crumbled stone structures scattered like broken teeth across the ruins. With a weary sigh, he lay back down. Sweat poured from his skin and vanished the instant it touched the scorching earth.
He was bored. And completely stuck.
He had tried everything—pure stubborn determination, frantic pacing, even screaming at the empty sky—to break whatever cycle held him here. Nothing worked.
"One… two… three…" he murmured under his breath.
He started counting to keep his mind from unraveling. If he reached eighty-six thousand four hundred, that would mark a full day. Or something close to it.
According to his count, a day had passed. Kael stripped off his sweat-soaked shirt and wrung it between his hands, desperate to squeeze out any precious moisture. He had already drained his last bottle of water hours ago, yet thirst still clawed at his throat. Now he licked the sweat from his own arms like a desperate animal. The ruins' unnatural heat no longer scorched his bare skin the way it should have, but it greedily devoured every drop of liquid it could find. He reached for his backpack and pulled out the opaque sealed jars he had scavenged from Nimbra's wreckage.
"I hope I hit the jackpot with this one," he muttered, twisting off the lid. A wave of foul stench hit him like a physical blow. Rabbit stew—rotten, congealed, and utterly unappetizing. Panic seized his chest. He tore through the backpack, yanking out every remaining jar in a frenzy.
"Just as I thought," he whispered hoarsely.
Every single jar contained the same spoiled rabbit stew. Accepting his miserable fate, Kael pinched his nose shut with one hand and scooped the cold, slimy contents into his mouth with the other.
"Eurgh!" His entire body shuddered in revulsion. He fought the violent urge to vomit, knowing this foul mess was the only thing keeping him alive. When the jar was empty, he flung it as hard as he could. It shattered against distant rubble with a satisfying crash.
Day after day blurred together. Kael forced down the rotting stew, drank his own sweat, and counted. He never stopped counting.
Does this stupid counting actually mark the end of my purgatory? he asked himself more than once.
After several days of this torment, hunger returned with a vengeance. He found himself craving the very stew he had once despised.
"Grrh—!" His stomach roared in protest. He had now gone two full days without a single bite, yet his mind still clung to the mechanical rhythm of counting like a drowning man to driftwood.
…16,584…
16,585…
He kept going, forcing each number out with deliberate precision. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and glared at the sky that refused to change.
It's still fucking blue, he cursed silently.
The unchanging sky felt like it was mocking his every failure. The thought sent fresh rage boiling through his veins. Erratic. That was the only word for it. He was erratic, starving, and slowly losing his grip on sanity. His lips were cracked and bleeding; even speaking sent sharp pain through them. His eyes burned from sleeplessness, and his hair hung in oily, matted clumps.
"Five days…" he croaked weakly.
"FIVE DAYS IN THIS GODDAMN PLACE!!!" he screamed, the sound tearing from his raw throat. A hysterical laugh bubbled up and spilled out of him.
Insane? I'm fucking insane, he thought, clutching fistfuls of hair at his temples as if he might rip it all out.
Tears slipped free despite his best efforts to hold them back. He hated how weak they made him feel.
"After everything… I can't even keep my promise to Aunt Erina," he sobbed, the memory of her grave cutting deeper than any blade. He grabbed the dagger he had taken from Reiner's forge—the same one he had planned to use to end his own life.
"Forgive me, Aunt," he whispered, voice breaking. "I've failed you once more."
He pressed the cold steel against his chest, wiped the tears from his eyes with a trembling hand, and closed them tight, bracing for the final pain.
"Oh, come on. You can't be that much of a wimp. I suppose I have to step in before you actually manage to kill yourself," a voice muttered in clear exasperation.
Kael sucked in a shaky breath and raised the dagger once more, point aimed at his heart. His fingers tightened around the hilt until his knuckles whitened. He drove it forward with all the strength he had left—
Clang!
The sound rang out strangely, as if the blade had struck something invisible.
"Sniff—! I can't… I can't do it," Kael gasped. The dagger slipped from his fingers. He dropped to his knees, shoulders shaking.
"Now that's what I'm talking about," the voice said, sounding genuinely relieved. "Have a little hope in yourself, man."
"Though even if you had stabbed yourself, you would've survived. Because I'm here." A wide, self-satisfied grin spread across the stranger's face.
Kael's head snapped up. In one swift motion he snatched the fallen dagger and sprang into a defensive crouch, every muscle coiled. He hadn't sensed anyone nearby. How long had this person been watching?
"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, never taking his eyes off the figure.
The stranger went quiet for a beat, then burst into loud, unrestrained laughter. "What are you doing? Trying to fight me?" He could barely get the words out between chuckles.
"Slow down, 'warrior.' Even if I wanted to kill you, I could've done it hours ago while you were busy screaming at the sky and all that," he said, still grinning.
"So you've been here the whole time?" Kael asked, refusing to lower his guard.
"Whole time? Not exactly. But close enough, if that's the answer you're looking for." The figure tilted his head.
Kael studied him warily. The stranger was genuinely tall—the kind of tall that filled doorways. Broad-shouldered but lean, built more for speed than brute strength. Short, wavy brown hair styled in a neat wolf cut framed a handsome face with warm brown skin. His dark eyes were sharp and observant; they looked kind until they narrowed in focus. Everything about him screamed effortless confidence.
Kael felt an ugly twist of jealousy in his gut. Why the hell is he so handsome? he thought bitterly. Girls probably threw themselves at him wherever he went.
"You still haven't answered my question," Kael said aloud, voice rough.
"Mako," the stranger replied simply. "Mako Vren."
He reached into his pack and tossed a heavy waterskin toward Kael.
"What's that?" Kael asked, still suspicious.
"Water, my fine sir," Mako teased, clearly trying to lighten the suffocating tension.
"Should I question where it came from?" Kael picked up the skin, feeling the liquid shift inside.
"I'm a man of my word," Mako said with an easy grin.
Kael stared at him a moment longer, then let his guard drop just enough to uncork the skin and drink. Icy-cold water flooded his mouth and throat, soothing the raw, cracked tissues like a blessing. He drank greedily until he had to force himself to stop.
"Is it poisoned?" he asked anyway, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Mako threw his head back and laughed. "You're awfully inquisitive for someone my age. No, it's not poisoned. Relax, would you?"
He always dodges direct questions, Kael noted silently.
"Now then," Mako said, clapping his hands once. "Let's get a fire going. I have actual food we can eat—real food, not whatever nightmare you've been choking down."
Kael watched him move, still careful, still half-expecting a trap. But for the first time in days, the crushing weight on his chest felt a little lighter.
He glanced once more at the unchanging blue sky.
You awful bastard, he thought, not sure if he meant the sky, the ruins, or whatever cruel force had trapped him here.