Amelia's finger trembled in the air.
Elias' breath hitched.
For a moment, he saw Solane's face – her face wide with fear before she'd screamed for the guards. The memory slammed into him so sharply his lungs forgot how to breathe.
Not again.
The knight's gaze bore into the girl, his voice sharp. "Well? Did you or did you not see anyone?"
Elias pressed himself deeper into the hollow. His pulse thundered in his ears. Please… don't.
Then, Amelia's hand steadied. Her trembling stopped. And with certainty, she pointed – to the left, far away from the hollow.
"There! I saw someone run through those trees!"
The knight snapped towards the direction she indicated.
"Move!" he barked. The soldiers dashed forward, the mages close behind, their runes glowing faintly.
Elias stayed frozen, staring at her silhouette through the leaves. The tension in his chest eased just a bit.
The moment their footfalls faded, Amelia's shoulders dropped. She didn't dare breathe until the shimmer of magic completely vanished in the distance. The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
From the hollow, Elias slowly raised his head, dirt sticking to his face and hair.
"Are they gone?"
But before he could finish, Amelia's boot pressed down on the back of his head, forcing him flat into the soil again.
Elias muffled a shout but his words were unintelligible as his face mashed into the mud.
"Shh!" she hissed. "They might double back!"
Elias tried to protest, but all that came out was a strained groan. The pressure of her foot kept him still. The cold mud oozed around his jaw and nose as the scent of earth filled his lungs.
After another tense few seconds, Amelia finally eased her weight off of him.
"You can come up now," she whispered.
Elias pushed his face up, glaring at her. His face became a smear of dirt and brown streaks. "Was that necessary?"
Amelia blinked at him and then winced, realizing what she'd done. "I – I didn't mean to press that hard," she said quickly. "Sorry."
She reached out a hand to help him up, but Elias hesitated. His pride was still buried somewhere in the mud. After a moment, he sighed and took her hand anyway.
"Hold on," she said, bracing herself.
"I'll manage…" Elias muttered, trying to stand up, but his boots sank deeper into the wet ground. Amelia gritted her teeth and pulled harder.
For a second, it worked… until Elias' foot slipped, pulling her with him. She stumbled, lost her balance, and fell straight into the same patch of mud.
The sound of the splash echoed embarrassingly loud. For a heartbeat, they both froze – Amelia sitting awkwardly beside him, her hair plastered to her cheek and her dress stained brown.
Elias blinked. Then, he let out a quiet chuckle.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the world wasn't screaming. There was no hum of corrupted mana, no metallic stench of blood, no whispers of the System in his mind. Just the wind through the trees, the sound of running water, and a girl with mud on her face trying to look furious.
For one small, impossible moment – it was quiet.
Amelia whipped her head towards him, mortified. "Don't laugh!"
"I'm not," he said, trying to suppress another laugh. "You just… looked very heroic until about five seconds ago."
She groaned, swiping the mud from her face. "You're impossible."
Amelia huffed, but even she couldn't help a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
They sat there for a moment longer, catching their breath. The tension had been replaced by a strange, fragile calm – something that was completely new to Elias. The forest had grown quiet again. The chirping of the birds echoed among the rustle of the leaves. Elias noticed her shoulders still trembling slightly from the adrenaline.
"Thank you," he said softly. "For not turning me in."
Amelia glanced at him, then quickly looked away. "You looked like you needed help. That's all."
Elias wasn't sure how to respond to that. So, he didn't.
Instead, they both stood up, brushing off what little dirt they could, and began the slow walk towards the village beyond the trees.
The settlement came into view as the forest gave way to uneven fields and wooden fences. The cottages were small and weathered. Smoke rose from a few chimneys, though faintly; it was too early for most to cook more than a thin soup.
At the edge of the path stood a crooked little house, leaning slightly to one side. A faded wooden sign hung over the door, carved with a rough scrawl: "The Millers."
Below it, in messy chalk, were four stick figures – two tall and two short – drawn by a child's hand.
"This is… my home," Amelia said in a prideful voice, even if the place looked ready to collapse at any moment.
Elias followed her in. The moment he stepped inside, the air changed. It was warm, but heavy and filled with the scent of damp wood and herbs.
The cottage had one main room with a hearth long gone cold, a crooked table in the center, and a small door that led to what might have been a single bedroom. The broken glass in the windows had been patched with paper. A cracked jug collected rainwater beneath a drip in the ceiling.
Amelia immediately headed towards the inner room. "Stay here," she said quickly, before vanishing inside.
Elias stood awkwardly by the door, unsure if he should sit or leave. He heard a faint cough from inside the room – wet, shallow.
When Amelia reappeared, her hands were stained from wiping sweat off a young boy's forehead. The child was lying on a thin mattress stuffed with straw. His skin was pale and his lips were chapped.
"My brother, Liam," Amelia said quietly. "He's been sick for weeks. Fever. Maybe worse."
Elias stepped closer. "Have you seen a doctor or a healer?"
She shook her head. "They don't come this far. Not unless you have money."
She knelt by the boy again, changing the damp cloth on his forehead. Her eyes never left him. Elias saw how tightly she held his wrist, counting a pulse that was barely beating.
"You care for him alone?"
"My father… died long ago. And my mother… well she earns what she can in the city." Her tone faltered slightly. "So yes. Just me."
Elias hesitated. "I'm sorry… for your loss. Well… let me help."
Amelia's head snapped up. "There's no need. You've done enough."
He frowned. "But I haven't done anything yet."
"Exactly." She forced a smile. "That's how I'd like it to stay."
He wanted to argue but stopped when she shoved a chipped glass of water towards him. "Here," she said. "Have a drink."
He took it carefully. The water was lukewarm and tasted faintly of metal. But he drank it anyways. Across from him, Amelia straightened the blanket over her brother repeatedly, as though trying to will the sickness away.
Elias set the glass down. "You don't have to do everything alone."
Amelia gave a quiet laugh. "Everyone has to, eventually."
Despite her protests, Elias rose and began tidying what little he could – lifting a fallen stool, stacking stray logs near the hearth, shaking the dust from the blanket. She tried to stop him once or twice, but eventually just sighed and let him.
By the time they finished, the light coming in through the broken window had turned gold.
"It's not much," she said, setting down a small plate on the table. "But you should eat something."
The meal was simple: two rough pieces of bread and a bowl of boiled roots mixed with herbs. The flavor was sharp and earthy, but Elias ate without complaint. Amelia joined him, chewing slowly.
"The soldiers were after you…" she muttered between bites. "But you don't exactly look a criminal?"
"…Well there are things that even I don't understand yet. This is one of them."
She studied him for a moment longer but didn't press further.
When they finished, Amelia wiped her hands on her apron and stood. "I have to go into the town. Need to sell what I caught before it spoils. Besides, Liam desperately needs his medicine."
Elias frowned. "Shouldn't you stay? The soldiers – "
"They won't bother a poor fisher girl," she said. Then after a pause, she added, "But you should stay here. Don't open the door, no matter who knocks. And… look after him, will you?"
Elias nodded. "I will."
"Good." She turned to leave, grabbing the basket near the door. "I'll be back before sunset."
As the door shut behind her, the cottage fell into quietness once more.
Elias stood in the stillness for a long moment before walking back to the boy's room.
The child stirred weakly, his breath uneven. Elias knelt beside him, gently replacing the damp cloth on his forehead with a fresh one. The boy muttered something incoherent in his sleep, and Elias felt that strange pull again – the one that had drawn him to the bird, to the girl, to this fragile life in the middle of a dying world.
He turned to the window. Outside, the sunlight shimmered through the trees, scattering across the floor. He stared at it for a long time, and then exhaled slowly.
"System," he murmured. Can I… do something for him?"
[ The Sigil of Vitality may react violently or trigger catastrophic feedback on application to external entities. Attempt not advised. ]
For a moment, he ignored the warning. A faint light flickered under his skin as he placed a hand on the boy's head, but it fizzled out almost instantly, leaving a faint burn and nothing more.
Elias sighed. "Figures."
He leaned back against the wall, exhaustion creeping in. The rhythm of the boy's shallow breaths and the distant chirping outside filled his mind until his eyelids grew heavy.
For a moment, his thoughts drifted.
The smell of iron. The masked woman. The cold, sterile silence that followed.
Then Solane – her fear, her voice trembling as she demanded the General stop searching her room.
The sound of his own heartbeat when he jumped from that window.
He exhaled a quiet, broken laugh before he could stop it.
He could feel the wind tearing at his clothes, the absurd moment of weightlessness before he hit the ground.
And then… her. Amelia.
A stranger who had every reason to turn him in. A girl who had instead pulled him from drowning, dragged him through the mud, and without hesitation let him into her crumbling home. Who had left him alone with her dying brother as though she trusted him completely.
He shook his head slowly. "You really are something else."
His gaze lingered on the boy's frail form. He felt the faint pulse of the Sigil beneath his skin, still warm from his failed attempt to heal.
When he finally closed his eyes, the last thing he saw was the sunlight spilling through the window, warm and fleeting, like a memory he had no right to claim.