We never look back.
Not because we're scared, but because we can't afford to. The past always catches up when you stop moving.
Both Mom and I kept walking deeper into the woods, toward the place she called Mørrïson. She said it used to be a quiet town near the edge of the swamp — a place where she once preached at a small church and befriended the nun who lived there.
If I'm being honest, I didn't care where we went. As long as it wasn't another night of running. As long as she could finally rest.
After that man stalked us, Mom decided it was too dangerous to stay where we were. And if that man wasn't alone… then leaving was the only choice left.
The path twisted endlessly through trees that seemed to lean closer the further we went. The air turned heavy, and the soil clung to my boots with every step.
The forest floor started losing its dirt trail, replaced by creaking wooden planks that stretched out.
"Guess we're entering a swamp," I muttered, watching mist roll between the reeds.
Mom didn't answer — her voice still broken after the scream that saved us days ago. Since then, she'd spoken only in whispers and gestures. Every time she tried to form words, her throat rasped like tearing paper.
Two hours later.
We finally found something that gave me a sliver of hope — a sign pointing toward Mørrïson.
That was when a soft hum rose behind us.
"Excuse me," a calm voice called, "are you hurt by any chance?"
I turned to see a man riding a small wagon that hovered just above the swamp floor. No horses was pulling it rather it floated on its own, blue runes glowing faintly beneath its frame.
The man had short green hair, blue eyes, and long, pointed ears. He wore a brown tunic patched at the elbows and carried the smell of fresh oak and spice.
He looked at Mom first, noticing the bruises along her arms. His expression softened. "You look like you've had a rough time."
Mom stiffened, pulling me close. I felt her heartbeat quicken.
The man raised both hands in peace. "Easy now. I mean no harm. Name's Elliot. I live in Mørrïson — was on my way home to drop off supplies. If you're heading there too, I can give you both a ride."
I didn't sense any danger in him. His voice was steady, his eyes kind. Mom needed to rest before she collapsed, and I knew it.
"We don't mind," I said before thinking.
Elliot blinked, surprised. "I'd prefer to hear it from your mother, little one."
Mom hesitated. Her lips parted soundlessly before she gave a small, reluctant nod.
Elliot smiled. "Then hop on."
---
The wagon's magic hummed softly as it glided through the swamp. The air was thick with the scent of moss and stagnant water.
The deeper we went, the less sunlight reached us — until only the glow of the runes painted our faces in pale blue light.
I sat across from Elliot, watching him guide the wagon with a simple crystal rod that responded to his touch.
"Are you human?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.
He chuckled. "Close enough. I'm a Lowblood Elf. Half-breed, if you want to be technical."
"Lowblood…?" I tilted my head.
"Means I wasn't born in the High Glades like the purebloods and both my parents weren't elves. My father was an orc and my mother was sun elf. My family came from the outskirts, near the trade routes. Despite my complex origin,—" he gestured to himself with a shrug with so much energy in his voice "— I decided decided that selling goods was befitting for me than worshipping trees all day."
Mom let out a faint, breathless laugh — or maybe a cough that sounded like one.
Elliot smiled at her reflection in the glass. "You've met elves before?"
She shook her head.
"Well, consider this your first pleasant encounter then, normally elves aren't nice to humans so allow me give you a worthwhile experience." he said with a grin.
---
For a while, the ride was silent except for the hum of the wagon and the croak of frogs echoing from the marsh. Then Elliot's tone shifted — gentler, cautious.
"So… forgive me if I'm prying, but what happened to you two?"
I stiffened slightly. Mom turned her head toward the window.
"We were traveling," I said after a moment, "and my mom… had an accident."
Elliot studied me, maybe sensing the lie but too kind to call it out. "I see."
He nodded thoughtfully, eyes on the swamp ahead. "Well, the road to Mørrïson's no place for the sick or tired. You're both welcome to stay at my place until she recovers."
Mom immediately shook her head — a weak but clear gesture of refusal.
I glanced at her, then turned back to Elliot. "Thank you, but… we were planning to stay at the church."
Elliot's smile faded. His hands tightened on the crystal rod. "The church?"
"Yes. Mom said she knew someone there."
He sighed, eyes darkening. "I'm afraid that's not possible anymore."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"There was a bandit raid two weeks ago," he said quietly. "The church was burned to the ground. The nun and the children were kidnapped by them we haven't heard anything since. They say it'll take months before it's rebuilt — five, at least."
My heart dropped. Mom's eyes widened, disbelief and grief flickering together.
Elliot glanced at both of us and spoke softly. "Please. You don't have to decide now. Just stay the night. You'll have a warm bed, and she'll have a healer check her throat."
Mom looked at me, her hand trembling slightly as it brushed my cheek. I knew what she wanted to say — We can't trust him.
But we had no place left to go.
I turned back to Elliot and nodded. "We'll stay. Just for the night."
Elliot smiled faintly. "That's all I ask."
The wagon continued to glide forward, leaving ripples of light in the murky water. In the distance, through the fog, the faint outline of Mørrïson appeared — a town of lanterns hanging over water.
And for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel afraid.
Only uncertain… of what waited for us next.