"The night deepens. The forest listens. Between a stranger's grip and a desperate cry, paths cross that should never meet — and destiny moves quietly in the dark."
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The last, desperate cry of 'Hori!' echoed through the trees, a sound so strange and far away it felt like a dream.
Then, a sudden, powerful force broke through the cold water. A hand gripped her arm, not the one with the arrow, and pulled her. The darkness of the river vanished, and she was lifted into the cold, damp air. She coughed, a terrible, rattling sound that tore at her throat. Water poured from her mouth and nose, and she gasped for air, her lungs burning with a cold, fiery pain. She felt the heavy, wet weight of her dress clinging to her body, and she shivered.
Her eyes were closed, and she didn't open them. She was afraid of what she would see. 'This is it,' a thought whispered in her mind. 'This is really it. I'm going to die. Not in a dream... not by a curse... but here. Alone.'
She was breathing heavily, the air cold and sharp as it filled her aching lungs. The feeling of fear was so strong it was like a taste in her mouth, cold and bitter. She coughed again, a wet, terrible sound, and then she felt a new kind of pain. The numbness in her injured arm, where the arrow was still buried, began to fade. It was replaced by a deep, throbbing ache that grew stronger with every beat of her heart.
The pain felt terrible, but it was also a sign that she was alive. 'Hold on,' her mind screamed at her. 'Don't die! Not here!'
Just as the world began to fade into a blur of cold and pain, a new sound cut through the air. A voice, loud and full of a desperate urgency, reached her ears.
"Hold on! Just hold on!"
Hori slowly opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry, and the world was just a swirl of dark shapes and fuzzy light. She saw a man with black hair, a dark figure against the moonlit trees. He knelt next to her, and she saw him take off his robe, a heavy piece of dark fabric. He gently placed it over her, covering her like a blanket. The rough cloth was a sudden warmth against her cold, wet skin. A small, involuntary shudder ran through her.
Then, she heard a sharp, clear snapping sound. The man had taken the long bow from her arm and broken it in two. He looked at her, his face a vague shape in her blurry vision. "Breathe slowly," he said, his voice low and firm.
She opened and closed her eyes in every second, her body panting with shock and cold. She tried to say something, a small thank you, but her voice was a fragile whisper that got lost in the cold air.
The figure came closer to her, his wet hair brushing against her face as he put his ear near her mouth. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice now a little closer.
She gathered all her strength and said it again, her voice low and raspy. "Thank you."
The figure pulled back slightly. "You can thank me after I've healed you." His voice was commanding, and Hori felt a shiver that was not just from the cold.
Her vision cleared a little, just for a moment. She noticed that the man standing in front of her was also wet, his hair dripping water. His face was red from the cold, and she could see his desperate, wide eyes. Before she could notice more, he suddenly bent down and scooped her up.
She was startled and let out a small gasp. She was being carried behind his back. It took a moment for her to realize what was happening. "W-what are you doing?" she whispered, her voice weak with fear. "Please... put me down."
He silenced her with a low voice. "Quiet. There are people here."
And then he ran, his feet hitting the ground with a rhythmic thump, leaving Hori to cling to the back of a complete stranger as the trees blurred around them.
He ran for what felt like forever, his body a solid weight beneath her, her own exhaustion forgotten in the shock. The world was a blur of trees and rushing air, until suddenly, it all stopped.
He leaned against a large tree, his chest heaving, his breath coming in ragged, panting gasps that misted in the cold air. The silence of the forest was deafening after the pounding of his feet. He gently slid Hori from his back, letting her sit down, her body propped up by the sturdy trunk behind her. The robe he had used to cover her stayed in place.
She felt a wave of guilt. 'He's exhausted. It's my fault.' Her voice was still weak and raspy, but she managed to force the words out. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes cast down. "I... I put your life in danger. I caused you trouble."
He said nothing. He simply knelt in front of her. His hands, though still cool and wet, were gentle as he reached for her injured arm. He slowly pulled the sleeve of her dress up, revealing the clean, but terribly bruised, skin beneath the bandage. He began to unwrap the cloth.
She watched him with wide, fearful eyes, the pain in her arm a constant, throbbing ache. He moved the bandage away, and her gaze immediately fell upon the wound. Right next to the raw, torn skin was a small, round patch.
It was purple.
A gasp caught in her throat. Her body froze, and all the warmth from his robe vanished. Hori, now Leila, looked at the purple mark. Her thoughts screamed in her mind. 'Poison. It's poison.' She remembered the last battle, the swiftness of the arrow, and the cold that had spread through her body. Her arm was numb, the skin was already changing color, and a cold, terrible dread settled over her heart.
Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Her bottom lip trembled, and she looked up at the man, her expression a mix of innocence and pure, childlike terror.
"Am I... am I going to die?" she asked, her voice no more than a fragile whisper. She looked at the purple mark and then back at him, her eyes pleading for an answer. She looked worried and sad and scared, a desperate question on her face. He was her only hope, a complete stranger, and she was asking him if her life was over. He simply looked at the purple patch and then back at her, his expression unreadable.
He finally spoke, his voice firm and direct. "The bow had poison," he said, the words cutting through her fear like a blade. "It's spreading."
A soft, broken cry escaped her lips. The terror of her situation, of her near-death in the water, and of the poison now running through her veins, was too much. Her shoulders began to shake, and hot, silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Her body, curled inward, was trembling with helpless fear.
"Am I going to... hic... die?" she whimpered, a small, choked sound leaving her lips.
He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her face. His voice was no longer commanding, but a low, urgent whisper. "There is no time for that. Listen to me."
She forced herself to stop, the tears still falling, but her entire being was now focused on his words. He held her injured hand with one of his own, his grip firm. He pulled her sleeve up even higher with his other hand, revealing more of the purple skin. He came closer, his face near her injured arm.
Just as he was about to do something, she stopped him. Her hand, which was not injured, shot out and touched his forearm. He immediately stopped, his body frozen with his face so close to her hand that he had to look up to meet her eyes.
"What?" he asked, his voice a tight whisper.
"What... what are you doing?" she asked, her voice trembling.
He seemed surprised by the question. "I'm removing the poison. If I don't, you will die."
Leila shook her head, a sudden, clear thought cutting through her fear. "No," she said, her voice small but firm. "I know that. I want to know... how?"
The man's eyes, wide and filled with a strange, desperate look, stared into hers. "There's only one way," he said, his voice dropping to a low, raw whisper. "I have to... suck the blood."
Leila's world went silent. The cold, the pain, the rustle of the trees—it all faded. Her blood ran cold, her heart hammered against her ribs. She felt her throat constrict, a high-pitched, terrified shriek erupting from her lips. "Aaaaa—!"
Before she could finish the scream, he moved with shocking speed. A hand, cool and firm, clamped over her mouth. Her scream was muffled into a broken, whimpering sound. She began to struggle, her tiny hands hitting his arm with all her useless strength.
He looked at her with a hint of annoyance, his eyes sharp and focused. "What are you doing?" he said, his voice a low, frustrated whisper. "Why are you screaming?"
She shook her head against his hand, her muffled voice filled with terror. "Leave me! You'll harm me! You'll kill me!"
"I'm not going to harm you!" he said, his voice still low, but with a new edge of irritation. "The poison will kill you! This is the only way." He looked at her, his expression a mix of impatience and concern. "Cooperate with me. If you don't want to see it... turn your face away."
And with that, Leila surrendered. Her frantic struggle stopped. She slowly turned her head away, her eyes still squeezed shut, a hot tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. She was not a queen, not a leader, not even a person. She was just a body, broken and afraid, surrendering to a stranger in the woods who was about to save her life in a way that felt like a nightmare.
And so he began. He first took out the broken bow from her hand. A small, sharp tearing of her skin was followed by a gasp of pain from her lips. "Agh...!" she cried out. "Bear it," he commanded, his voice firm and low. She had no choice but to
listen, her body trembling with pain and fear.
Then, from the folds of his dark attire, he took out a small blade that glinted in the moonlight. He made a precise, shallow cut on her hand near the wound. She held her breath, her chest heaving. He put his face near her hand and opened his mouth, and a sudden, involuntary heat spread across her cheeks. The raw intimacy of the act made her blush, her cheeks turning a bright red that contrasted sharply with her pale skin.
He began to suck the blood from her hand, his lips against her skin, a strange, desperate sound in the quiet forest. He would suck, then spit it out on the ground, a dark stain on the damp earth. He repeated this, again and again, his focus unwavering.
Leila, against her will, found herself watching. Her mind, the nature of Hori, was trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She was amazed. 'How is he doing that? How does he know what to do?' A thought, born of a world of science and medicine, came to her. 'He must be a medic. No one else would know something like that. He's so good at it.'
She sighed, a soft, troubled sound that was heavy with a sorrow he couldn't possibly understand. She was thinking of the life she had left behind. 'Back in my world... back in our world... if I were poisoned, there would be so many medicines... so many machines... and so many doctors.' She gave out another sigh, her shoulders slumping. 'But here... there is nothing like that.'
The man had stopped, his face still close to her hand. He had heard her sigh. He pulled back slightly, his eyes looking up at her face. "What's wrong?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Why were you sighing?"
Leila was startled. She shook her head, a small, involuntary reflex. "I wasn't sighing," she mumbled, but he simply gave her a look that said he didn't believe her. She sighed again, a quiet surrender. "Fine. I was sighing."
"Why?" he pressed.
Leila looked at him, at his serious face, his skilled hands, and the raw, desperate act he was performing to save her. A wave of truth washed over her, a truth that she could not explain in this world. "Because...," she said, her voice filled with a quiet, reflective sadness, "men like you don't exist anymore."
He stopped suddenly, his eyes still on her, and the forest went quiet once more. Leila quickly turned her head, feeling a sudden rush of shame at being caught staring. He took a final, deep breath, then tore a piece of cloth from the robe he had given her. It was a dark, rough fabric, but he wrapped it carefully around her wounded arm, tying it to prevent further bleeding. His fingers were quick and efficient as they worked.
Leila looked down at her arm, at the dark cloth against her pale skin. Her eyes drifted to the wound beneath it. The purple patch was still there.
She looked back up at the man, her face a mix of confusion and fresh worry. "But... the purple patch is still there," she said, her voice a small whisper. 'Did it not work? Is the poison still inside me?' The thought made her heart lurch. 'He is a medic, isn't he?' she thought with a sudden chill. 'He should know.'
The man looked from her face to her arm, his expression calm. "We have no herbs or medicine to apply to the wound," he said simply. "That's why the purple patch remains."
Leila nodded, a quiet understanding passing over her face. The initial fear was gone, replaced by the deep, heavy weight of a new problem. Her mind, the mind of Hori, now understood the reality of this world. There were no miracle cures, no hospital. Healing was a difficult, messy process.
He got to his feet, a soft gasp of effort leaving his lips. He wiped a bead of sweat from the side of his forehead. The sight of it, in the cold, misty air, confused Leila. 'How can he be sweating like that? It's freezing.'
He caught her peeking at him. He didn't speak, but a small smile touched the corner of his lips, a silent gesture that said, 'I know you were looking.' A flush of heat rose to her cheeks. She quickly looked away, resting her head on her legs, her face buried against the rough cloth of his robe. "I... I wasn't staring," she mumbled.
"Of course you weren't," he said, his voice a low, knowing murmur. After a moment of silence, she slowly spoke, her voice still quiet and muffled. "What... what's your name?" He didn't move. "Hm?" he asked, his ear moving closer to her. "Say that again."
Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, a little embarrassed by his action. "Your... your name," she whispered.
He stood up straight again, and his gaze lifted from her face to the endless night sky. He stared at the stars for a long moment, a sad look settling in his eyes. A thick cloud of fog left his mouth with a sigh. Leila, watching him, unconsciously gave her own sigh, a small cloud of white mist leaving her lips and dissipating into the cold air.
He finally looked down at her, his eyes a little sad. "It doesn't matter," he said.
"Why?" she asked, her voice soft with worry.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, the sadness was replaced by a deep, weary sorrow. "I'm a man who lost everything," he said, his voice heavy.
The silence that followed was profound. The only sound was the soft hum of crickets in the night, a lonely tune that filled the void between them.
He opened his eyes and looked at her, and with a quiet kind of finality, he said, "My name is Akito."
The name rang in her mind, a powerful sound in the quiet night. She stared at him, and it took a moment for her to realize that he had actually spoken his name, a name that felt both like a final word and the beginning of a story.
He approached her again, his movements soft. He stopped a short distance away and knelt down, his gaze kind. "Now that you're well," he said, his voice a gentle murmur, "do you want to go somewhere?"
Leila looked at him, her heart throbbing with a sudden, panicked beat. The simple question hit her with the force. 'Go somewhere? Back to where I belong?' Her eyes widened in shock, and she instinctively lowered her head, resting it on her legs.
Tears came out of her eyes and began to fall freely. Her body began to tremble with silent sobs. She shook her head in a desperate motion. "Are you... crying?" he asked, his voice now a low whisper. "No," she said, her voice muffled by her knees, a lie that even she didn't believe.
After a moment, she stopped trying to pretend. The full weight of her situation crashed down on her. Her voice broke, and she lifted her head slightly to look at him, her eyes filled with fresh tears. "I... I have nowhere to go," she whispered, the words coming out in a broken rush. "I have no one who... who could help me. I don't know what I'll do now..."
Her mind, the true nature of Hori, began to spiral into a panicked of thoughts. 'How did I get here? Why am I here?' The fear of the unknown was a physical ache in her chest. 'I'm in a strange place.... I have no idea why I was attacked, why people are after me. I'm not in a good state. I don't even have clothes that fit, or a home, or... anything. I have no idea how I'll even survive.'
He reached out a hand, not to touch her, but to rest it on the ground between them. His voice was calm and steady. "Don't cry," he said gently. "You're a princess. People are probably worried sick about you."
Leila froze. She stared at him, tears still on her cheeks, her mind reeling. 'A princess? Is he crazy? He doesn't know who I am. He doesn't know I'm Hori. I'm not a princess.'
Akito, seeing the confusion in her eyes, gave a small, quiet shrug. "Of course you are," he said, stating it as a simple fact. "Look at the way you are dressed, even if your clothes are torn. And you have that magical power, that Azyl... it's a rare gift, especially among women. Only royalty and the most powerful clan leaders have it. It's a miracle you're alive after an attack like that."
Leila lowered her head again, her hands gripping her legs tightly as she processed his words. He was right. She had no memory of being a princess, but Akito's logic was flawless. The clothes she was wearing, the power in her body, the attack on the boat—it all fit a narrative that had nothing to do with Hori.
Her thoughts, the sharp, logical thoughts of Hori, began to race. 'I have no idea why I was in this body or how I got here, but he's not wrong. This body... Leila... she must be a princess. That's why I was attacked. That's why they were trying to kill me on the boat. It wasn't a random thing. It was an assassination attempt.'
Her tears stopped. The sadness was gone, replaced by a cold, sharp dread. She had thought she was just a person lost in a strange world, but she had an identity now. An identity with enemies, a past she couldn't remember, and a present she didn't understand. She wasn't just Hori anymore. She was Leila, the princess. And the people who wanted her dead were still out there.
She spoke, her voice low and even, a careful lie hiding the panic in her mind. "Very well then," she said, feigning an air of confidence. "I will return to my people." 'I don't even know where my home is,' she thought, the words a cold, fearful whisper in her mind. 'But I can't stay here. I'm a target.'
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Sooo… this chapter. 🌲😳 Hands are held, swords are ready, and someone is out here screaming names into the night like it's karaoke gone wrong 🎤💀. Meanwhile, poor Leila is just trying not to pass out (again).
Be honest — if YOU were hiding in the bushes with someone holding you still… would you stay quiet 😶👉👈 or sneeze and get everyone killed? 🌿😂 I feel like I'd sneeze. Definitely sneeze.
Anywayyy, things are heating up (and not in the comfy way). Who's ready for more drama, mystery, and maybe… 👀 feelings nobody wants to admit yet? Drop me your guesses, theories, or even just a 🌚 in the comments so I know you survived reading this.
Next chapter… oh, it's gonna sting. Literally. 🐍⚔️
— with chaos,
SakuraShinomiya ✨
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