Small waves rocked rhythmically to the soft wind that caressed the tall, green canopy of the trees. The air smelled of fresh water, damp earth, and clean, living air.
On a small island—only a few meters from the lake's shore, no larger than a bed—lay a small boy. Half of his body was still submerged in the cool water, while half of his face rested in the dirt. His chest rose and fell slowly, in time with the gentle motion of the waves.
High above, sharp, dangerous birds screeched across the sky. The sun climbed steadily, its bright rays drawing closer with each passing minute. Light sparkled across the clear water, made the lush green of leaves and grass glow, and sent flashes of color as large, vibrant fish leapt from the lake.
When the first ray of sunlight brushed Sam's temple, his body twitched.
Then it jolted more strongly.
His chocolate-brown eyes cracked open, unfocused, and he coughed harshly. Mud and water spilled from his mouth as his weakened body convulsed, lungs burning as he dragged air back into himself.
After several ragged breaths, Sam managed to breathe again. He pushed himself weakly upright and crawled on all fours farther onto the small island. His arms gave out almost immediately.
He collapsed into the tall grass.
There, soaked, battered, and barely conscious—but alive—Sam lay still, the sounds of water and wind washing over him.
"Hahaha—!"
The sound tore itself out of Sam's throat, raw and broken, halfway between laughter and a sob. It scraped his lungs, made his ribs ache, but he didn't stop. He laughed until his chest burned and his vision blurred again.
Alive.
He was alive.
His fingers dug into the grass, clutching it as if the earth itself might disappear. The castle, the chains, the screams—so far away now, like a nightmare fading with the morning mist.
"Haha… ha…"
The laughter dwindled into rough breaths.
Sam rolled onto his back, staring up through the swaying grass at the open sky. Sunlight filtered down in fractured gold, warm against his skin. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, there was no ceiling above him. No runes. No iron.
His smile slowly sharpened.
"Henry…" he whispered, voice hoarse but steady, „it's not over yet..!"
The boy closed his eyes, exhaustion finally claiming him drifting to sleep.
…
His heavy footsteps echoed through the dark stairwell, choking beneath the stench of cigarette smoke. Flickering yellow neon lights hung from the walls, crackling softly to themselves.
Samuel's gaze drifted downward. His head pounded, hanging heavily from his shoulders, while blood dripped from somewhere on his face onto his black hoodie and the nicotine-yellow floor below.
Then he lifted his head again. One more floor.
He rubbed his eyes, spat the iron-tasting contents of his mouth into the corner, and dragged himself upward by the rusted railing. Finally, he stood before his apartment door — an old wooden thing with a hole in it, covered over with layers of duct tape.
With trembling fingers, he pulled out a key and slipped quietly inside.
The television was on, and the apartment smelled of mold. Samuel squeezed through the narrow hallway, past the living room, dining area, and kitchen. Then he stopped in front of the bedroom he shared with his little brother and knocked on the neighboring door, the one plastered with pink magazine cutouts. He caught glimpses of ponies, Blackpink, and other things.
The door creaked open, and a woman who looked strikingly similar to Samuel greeted him with a worried expression. Then she shook her head and glanced back into the room.
"Marie, go to Mom. I've got a patient."
A little girl with dark hair slipped nervously past them, and Samuel stepped into his sisters' room. Old toys lay scattered across the desk and floor, mixed together with medical textbooks and practice materials.
Without a word, he sat down on a chair far too small for him and waited while his older sister cleaned him up and stitched the gashes closed.
"Thanks…" Samuel muttered, moving his jaw around to loosen it.
"Don't thank me. How about you stop fighting until everything's healed for once? I keep stitching up the same wounds over and over!" she snapped.
Then she noticed him pulling a crumpled wad of cash from his pocket and added, "And you know Mom and I don't like your bloody money."
"I'm only paying you for the treatment and supplies. Plus a tip."
She shook her head, grabbed a piggy bank, and muttered, "Everything I don't need for university, I save and give back to you anyway."
"So… did you buy that new… thing?"
Hesitantly, she shook her head.
Samuel rose to his feet and nodded gratefully. "You keep your promise, and I'll keep mine. I'll quit those underground fights once you become a doctor."
His older sister nodded quickly. "I know. I know." Then, trying to change the subject, she asked, "Are you still hungry?"
…
Sam was awoken by the burning sensation of hunger, roaring through his body.
Ghh…!"
His hand flew to his abdomen as his body trembled. Saliva flooded his mouth, his vision swam, and for a terrifying moment he thought he might eat the whole island.
Sam forced his eyes open. Suppressing the feeling.
The small island was quiet now. Morning had advanced; the sun stood higher, its warmth pressing down on his bare skin. Insects buzzed lazily above the water. The lake shimmered, calm and deceptively peaceful.
The short dream flashed through his head, his mother, his little brother and older sister. Sam shook his head, they were fine and he couldn't do anything anymore now.
He missed them, but knew they didn't need his dark money anymore, as it was enough for the older sister to be an doctor.
Sam rolled onto his side with a groan after some time, every movement sending sparks of pain through his limbs. His thigh throbbed where the arrow had pierced it—sealed, but weak. His body felt hollow, light, as if a strong wind could snap him in half.
"Food…" he whispered.
Anything.
Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows, breathing hard, and scanned his surroundings with sharp, learned eyes.
Around him was a large, clear blue lake, surrounded by large trees towering high in the sky as if they wanted to catch the big lazy white clouds.
Warm breezes ruffled in the leaves of the forest, but couldn't cover loud monster noises. He even saw an old Wyvern corpse lying on the shore, getten plundered by some big and green looking creatures.
„Goblins…?" Sam asked himself but shook his head, „they are too big and muscular for regular ones…" he thought and kept still in the tall grass.
He observed them, how they carried some bones in the forest and gnawing on old rotten flesh pieces that were left over. Using some primitive stone tools, while laughing crazy.