"Now,"
Harlen crouched, rolled up Vesperyn's sleeve without asking, and studied the claw marks.
They weren't deep, but they burned.
He dug out a small tin, scooped out a thick green paste that stank of pine and something sharper.
When he smeared it on, Vesperyn sucked in a breath through his teeth.
"Stings, yeah," Harlen said, not looking up. "Better than infection."
He wrapped the arm in clean cloth, knotting it tight.
"Should be closed by morning. Try not to pick at it."
Vesperyn managed a nod.
Harlen stood, leaned against the edge of the table, arms folded. He studied Vesperyn the way you'd study a stray dog that might bite.
"You've got no idea where you are," he said. It wasn't really a question.
"No," Vesperyn admitted.
Harlen huffed a small breath. "And you don't know what you are, either. Fine. We'll leave that alone for tonight."
He rubbed the back of his neck, glanced toward the door like he was already regretting this.
"You can stay here. For Few days. But there are rules."
Vesperyn looked up. "Rules?"
Harlen counted them off on his fingers, voice flat.
"You stay inside after dark—no exceptions."
Harlen stopped for a second and then speaks,
"And if you hear something calling your name from the trees? You don't answer. I don't care if it sounds like your mother or a god; out there, a voice is just a lure attached to a mouth."
He again paused before the third finger, eyes narrowing.
"And lastly—keep your blood inside your skin. In this Reach, a fresh wound is a dinner bell for things that haven't eaten in a century. I'm not scrubbing your remains off my floor because you were careless."
Then Harlen went to the fire, tossed on another log, watched the sparks rise.
He glanced at the bandage. "Blood draws them. So don't give them a reason."
Vesperyn sat back, the weight of it finally settling in.
This wasn't a forest near home.
This wasn't home at all.
"During the day, you can do what you want," Harlen said.
"…don't they come during the day?" Ves asked.
Harlen snorted softly.
"They fear Sunlight,"
Harlen stretched, joints popping audibly.
"That's enough for today," he said, already turning away. "You nearly got yourself eaten, wrecked my evening, and now I'm tired."
Vesperyn blinked. "Oh. Um… thank you. For saving me."
Harlen waved a hand without looking back. "Try not to die before morning. Makes things awkward."
He dropped onto the narrow bed near the wall, boots still on.
Five seconds passed.
Then—
Snrrrk.
Vesperyn stared.
The sound was loud.
"…Is he for real' Vesperyn thought.
He had never seen anyone fall asleep that fast. Not even him, who could nap through thunderstorms. There was something almost impressive about it—the kind of surprise you felt when watching someone you assumed was serious do something completely ordinary.
He eased himself onto the other bed.
The moment his back touched the thin mattress, the firelight dimmed.
Vesperyn had always liked sleep. It was one of the few things he was good at. But right now, it felt strange. Like lying down after running for too long—your body ready, your mind not quite.
The room went dark.
He lay back down and closed his eyes.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
"Ves."
His eyes snapped open.
The voice was faint. Soft. Too familiar.
"Ves, wake up."
His heart stuttered.
It was Darian.
Exactly the way he always sounded in the mornings, annoyed, half-laughing, too close to his ear.
Vesperyn swallowed.
It's not real, he told himself. The old man warned you.
Still, his fingers curled into the blanket.
"How does he know?" he thought. How does he know my family?
The voice came again, clearer now.
"Come on. You'll be late."
For a second….just one—he almost answered.
Instead, he turned his face into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut.
Don't answer whispers.
The voice grew louder.
Closer.
"Ves."
His heartbeat thudded in his ears.
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe any louder than he had to.
Eventually, the sound faded. Not all at once, just thinning, like a memory losing its edges.
Dawn crept through the gaps in the walls.
Gray light. Weak, but real.
Vesperyn's eyes felt gritty, swollen from crying. His whole body ached.
But he was alive.
He sat up slowly, looking at the window where the voice had been.
Nothing there now. Just trees and morning mist.
Vesperyn touched his wounded shoulder. It still hurt, but less. Harlen had said it would close by morning.
He looked down at his hands.
These hands had crushed the ring.
Had left Darian behind.
He clenched them into fists.
*I'm going to find you,* he thought. *I don't care how long it takes. I don't care what I have to do.*
*I'm going to find you, and I'm going to kill the man who did this.*
He didn't say it out loud.
But the promise settled into his bones anyway.
Heavy.
Certain.
Real.