Darkness swallowed everything.
Nox floated in an endless black ocean where time meant nothing. No light. No sound. No feeling. Just the cold embrace of nothingness that wrapped around him like a burial shroud.
Then agony tore through him like lightning.
His eyes snapped open, pupils wide with shock. Every nerve in his body screamed. It felt like invisible hands had reached into death itself and yanked him back to the world of the living, dragging him through broken glass and fire.
His chest burned as if molten metal had been poured into his lungs. His arms and legs felt like they were made of stone, heavy and useless. His throat was raw and dry, scraping with each breath he somehow managed to take.
What... what is this?
He squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to return to that peaceful void where pain couldn't reach him. But something anchored him to consciousness, refusing to let him slip away.
Then he felt it, a weight pressing against his chest.
His arms, numb and shaking like autumn leaves, held something warm. Someone small.
A girl. No older than fourteen. Her skin was ghost-pale, almost blue at the lips. Each breath she took was shallow and weak, like a candle flame fighting against the wind.
Her long silver hair spread across his arm like spilled moonlight, but it was tangled and sticky with dried blood. Her dress, once probably white, was now torn and stained black with soot and ash. Something hard pressed against his ribs through the fabric. A book of some kind, thick and heavy, hidden beneath the ruined cloth.
Who is she...?
The question echoed in his mind, but no answers came. Only confusion and the fading warmth of her small body against his chest.
He stared at her face, the gentle curve of her cheek, the way her eyelashes cast tiny shadows. Something stirred deep in his memory, like a word on the tip of his tongue.
"Maya."
The name fell from his lips before he could stop it. It felt right, like a key turning in a lock. Even though he'd never seen this girl before, calling her name felt as natural as breathing.
This isn't my body.
His voice sounded wrong, deeper, rougher than he remembered. He lifted his hands, staring at fingers that weren't his own. They were longer, stronger, stained with blood and marked with fresh scars. These weren't the thin, pale hands of a hospital patient he remembered from... before.
Before what?
The memories slipped away like water through his fingers.
Pain shot through his legs as he forced himself to stand. Each step felt like walking on broken bones. His muscles screamed, his vision blurred, but he kept moving. One foot in front of the other, carrying the girl who might be Maya, might be a stranger, might be the only thing keeping him sane.
The sound of running water grew louder. A river.
His legs gave out at the water's edge, but he planted his feet and held her tighter against his chest. She was so light, so fragile. Like holding a wounded bird.
"Someone... please help..."
The words scraped his throat raw. Each syllable felt like swallowing razors. His body swayed dangerously, darkness creeping at the edges of his vision.
He was falling.
Instinct took over. He twisted as he collapsed, landing hard on his back to cushion her fall. Pain exploded through his spine, but she was safe. Still breathing against his chest.
Footsteps crunched through the grass nearby. Heavy boots. A shadow fell across them both.
A man stepped into view, tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. His face was weathered and scarred, but his eyes weren't cruel. Just tired.
The man stared down at them for a long moment, taking in the blood, the torn clothes, the way Nox's arms stayed wrapped protectively around the girl even while unconscious.
"Hmm." He rubbed his jaw, thinking. "Picking up another set of strays."
– – –
"Ugh—"
Pain dragged Nox back to consciousness like hooks in his flesh. His eyelids felt heavy as stones, but he forced them open slowly.
A cracked wooden ceiling stared back at him. Pale morning light leaked through a dirty window, casting everything in gray shadows. The mattress beneath him was thin and lumpy, scratching through a rough blanket that smelled like old hay.
The air was thick with the scent of dried herbs, unwashed bodies, and something else, wood smoke and leather. His ribs felt like they'd been kicked by a horse, each breath a small victory.
He tried to push himself up, but his arms shook too much to support his weight. Weak. Pathetic.
Then he heard it, soft, steady breathing beside him.
His head turned, and his heart skipped.
Maya.
She lay in a narrow bed just arm's reach away, her small form wrapped in clean white bandages. The deathly pale color had left her cheeks, replaced by the faint pink of life. Her breathing was deeper now, more natural. The trembling from before was gone.
Seeing her alive did something strange to his chest. A warmth he didn't understand and didn't want to examine too closely.
Why do I care if she lives or dies? I don't even know her.
But the relief was real, even if he couldn't explain it.
The door creaked open, interrupting his thoughts.
The same man from before stepped inside, broad shoulders filling the doorframe, long coat dusty from travel. His boots made no sound on the wooden floor, and his eyes missed nothing.
When he saw Nox awake, he paused mid-step.
"Well... that's a surprise." His voice was rough but not unkind. "Didn't expect you to wake up this soon."
Nox said nothing. His eyes tracked the man's movements like a cornered animal watching a predator.
The man didn't seem bothered by the hostile stare. He set down a wooden tray carrying a cup of water and a chunk of dark bread.
"Eat if you can stomach it. You've been out for nearly four days."
Silence stretched between them.
The man sighed and wiped his hands on his coat. "Found you both at the river's edge. Deep in the Thornwood Forest. The girl was barely breathing, and you..." He shook his head. "You looked dead. But you still managed to beg for help before you collapsed."
Nox's throat worked, but no words came.
"This place," the man continued, gesturing around the small room, "we call it Emberrest. It's not your typical orphanage."
"...Where?" Nox's voice came out as a croak.
"Like I said, Emberrest. We take in kids who've lost their homes. Those thrown out by families for being 'useless.' The ones society forgot." The man's expression hardened slightly. "We train them. Give them skills to survive in a world that doesn't give second chances."
Nox glanced at Maya again. Still sleeping, but the rise and fall of her chest was steady.
"You brought us both here?"
"Didn't have much choice. You were holding onto her like she was the last solid thing in a storm. Figured you were siblings at first, but..." The man's eyes narrowed. "Something about you two doesn't add up."
Siblings?
The word felt right and wrong at the same time. Like a puzzle piece that almost fit but had rough edges.
"What's your name, boy?"
The question hung in the air. Nox felt his pulse quicken as an answer rose unbidden to his lips, a name that felt familiar even though he'd never spoken it aloud.
"...Nox."
The man's entire demeanor shifted. His casual stance became rigid, his eyes sharp as knife points.
"Nox what?"
Another pause. Another name floating up from the depths of borrowed memories.
"...Virelith."
The room went dead silent.
The man took a step back as if Nox had grown fangs. His face went pale beneath the weathered tan.
"The Virelith family?" His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "The eastern branch... the healing bloodline?"
Nox stared back, confused by the reaction.
The man ran a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath. "They were wiped out. Every last one."
Wiped out.
The words hit Nox like a physical blow. "What?"
"You didn't know?" The man studied his face, looking for signs of deception. "Three months ago. The entire Virelith estate was burned to the ground. They said it was bandits, but..." He shook his head. "No bandits move that fast or kill that clean."
Nox's mind reeled. Memories tried to surface flashes of fire, screaming, the smell of smoke and blood but they slipped away before he could grasp them.
"I don't... I don't remember much." His voice was hollow. "Just pain. Then her. Then darkness."
The man exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving Nox's face.
"Well, boy," he said finally, "if what you're saying is true... then you're looking at the last known survivor of one of the most powerful healing families in the eastern territories."
Last survivor.
The weight of those words settled on Nox's shoulders like a heavy cloak. He looked at his bandaged hands, trying to make sense of it all.
So this body belonged to someone important. Someone who lost everything, just like I did.
And Maya, she wasn't a stranger. She was family. Blood family, whether he remembered her or not.
The knowledge should have made him feel something. Warmth, connection, responsibility. Instead, there was only cold calculation.
She was useful. A link to memories he needed to recover. That was all.
"Who are you?" Nox asked, pushing aside thoughts he didn't want to examine.
The man straightened, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Name's Garron. I run security here at Emberrest." He gestured toward the window. "This orphanage trains kids with potential. We're funded by the Blackthorn family, mid-tier nobles who like to scout for talent they can... cultivate."
Cultivate. The word had an unpleasant taste.
"They take the promising ones into their household. Give them a chance at a real future. Better than dying in the streets."
Nox's expression didn't change, but inside, warning bells rang. He'd heard similar promises before, back in his old life. Pretty words that hid ugly truths.
"Why help us?"
Garron shrugged. "Does it matter? You're breathing. She's stable. Sometimes that has to be enough."
Nox said nothing, but his distrust must have shown on his face.
"Look, boy...Nox." Garron's voice took on a more serious tone. "I don't know what you went through or what you remember. But right now, you're weak, she's hurt, and you both need time to heal. This place can give you that time."
"For a price."
"Everything has a price." Garron didn't deny it. "But you're alive to pay it. That's more than most get."
Nox looked down at his hands again—clean now, but still trembling slightly. The scars were already fading, which meant this body had some kind of healing ability. The Virelith bloodline Garron had mentioned.
He didn't remember how he'd survived whatever killed his family. Didn't remember how he'd kept Maya alive through it all.
But somewhere in his blood, something had changed. Something that might be worth understanding.
And eventually... he'd find out exactly what that was.
For now, he'd play along. Let them think he was just another broken orphan grateful for shelter.
They had no idea what they'd really brought into their midst.