The forest was wrong.
I knew it the second the wind died. The trees were too still, the silence too heavy, as if the whole world was holding its breath. My lantern flickered, the flame sputtering pale blue instead of gold—an omen, a warning.
Something had bled here. Something powerful.
I followed the pull of it, branches clawing at my cloak, roots catching my boots. The scent hit me first—iron and smoke, sharp in the back of my throat. Then the sound. A groan, low and broken, like someone trying not to be heard.
I froze.
Then I saw him.
A boy.
He was crumpled at the base of an oak, half-hidden by shadows, his chest rising in shallow, ragged pulls. His hair was black and tangled with blood, his clothes torn to shreds. Chains circled his wrists, etched with faint runes that glowed like dying embers.
He looked… wrong. Not like the farmers or hunters from the villages, not like any traveler I'd ever seen. Too tall, too sharp, too wild. But he was alive. Barely.
My instincts screamed to leave him. Whatever bound him in chains wasn't human.
But then he opened his eyes.
They glowed faintly in the dark, golden and fever-bright. His lips parted, blood staining his teeth.
"Help… me."
The sound cracked something inside me.
I should have run. I should have let him die. Instead, I dropped my lantern and fell to my knees beside him.
"Don't move," I whispered, though his body was already too weak for that. My hand pressed to his chest. His heart fluttered frantically beneath my palm, like a trapped bird.
The chains burned hot against his skin. Whatever magic they carried was eating him alive.
I had two choices: walk away… or break myself trying to save him.
I chose wrong.
Dragging him nearly killed me. He was heavy, half-conscious, his body sagging every time my grip slipped. The chains clanged with every step, too loud in the silence, as if they wanted to summon whoever had put them on him.
By the time I reached the cave, my muscles screamed, sweat plastered my hair to my forehead, and my lungs were on fire. But I got him inside.
With shaking hands, I whispered the old words. Runes along the cave walls flickered awake, a faint white glow sealing us in. No one would hear him scream.
I lowered him onto the furs in the corner. His skin was ice cold, slick with sweat, and his eyes rolled back when I tried to rouse him.
"Stay with me," I whispered, even though he couldn't hear. My palms trembled as I pressed them to his chest again.
Magic came reluctantly, like water from a cracked jug. Heat bled into him, fire running down my arms, searing my veins as it spilled into his broken body.
He convulsed. A ragged cry tore from his throat, so raw it made my stomach twist. His back arched off the furs, shadows writhing beneath his skin as my magic fought whatever was inside him.
"Quiet!" I hissed, pressing harder. "You'll tear yourself apart!"
But the fire only made him writhe harder, like I was burning him alive. His hands shot out, clutching my wrists with desperate strength. His eyes flew open, wild, molten gold drowning in pain.
"Stop—"
"I can't!" I snapped, though my arms shook violently under his grip. "If I stop, you die!"
I poured more magic in, forcing the flames to dig deeper. Sweat drenched my face. My vision blurred. The shadows in him recoiled, shrieking silently against my fire, clawing at his veins as if they meant to rip free.
His scream echoed off the cave walls.
The wards held. Thank the gods, they held.
I nearly broke. My arms ached, my body trembling, magic tearing through me too fast, too much. But I kept going.
"Stay with me," I begged, voice cracking. "Just a little longer. Don't let go."
For a heartbeat, his gaze found mine. There was nothing human in it—just raw, unbearable will.
Then the shadows shuddered.
And broke.
The black veins receded. His body sagged, his grip falling limp against my arms. The chains cooled, their glow sputtering out until they were nothing more than dead metal.
I slumped forward, collapsing half on top of him, chest heaving. My whole body shook, my magic guttering like an extinguished flame.
But he was breathing.
Shallow, steady, alive.
I pressed trembling fingers to his throat. His pulse throbbed beneath my touch, faint but there.
Tears blurred my vision, hot and unbidden. I didn't cry. Not for anyone. But the sound of his breath in the silence undid me.
"You're safe," I whispered, not sure if I was telling him or myself.
His lashes fluttered, a flicker of gold beneath them. His lips parted, no sound but the faintest rasp escaping.
"…why?"
The word was slurred, broken.
"Because you were dying," I whispered. "That's all."
But it wasn't all.
Because when I looked at him, I didn't see a stranger. I saw someone who refused to let go, even as everything tried to drag him under.
Someone worth saving.
Even if it killed me.
I stayed awake long into the night, watching the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers twitched as though even in sleep, he fought something unseen. My body ached, my magic was burned nearly dry, but I couldn't close my eyes.
If I did, I was afraid he wouldn't be there when I woke.
The chains lay dull and broken beside him. The runes had gone out completely, leaving only faint scars burned into his wrists. Whoever had bound him hadn't meant for him to escape alive.
I didn't know who he was.
I didn't know what he was.
All I knew was this: I had dragged him from death, and now he was mine to keep alive.
And gods help me, I would.