“-said stop! Ayre stop!” Lilly is desperately trying to shove the spear out of my white-knuckled grip and away from the creature…no, the man. I see his eyes again, and they are silvery blue, not purple and bloodshot, and I feel a cocktail of emotions wash over me as I drop to my knees and my spear clatters to the ground from limp, shaking hands. Distantly I hear someone coughing wetly, but I fail to really process it, all I can see is that dream, with the creature. “What should I do?” I ask, but no matter how long I sit there kneeling, I don’t find an answer.

  “Ayre what is wrong with you? Did you hit your head in the river or something? Hey! Can you hear me?” I feel Lilly trying everything possible to get my attention and I want to respond, to explain the things I’ve never told her, but how would I even start? My hair is tugged, my eyes are pulled open and peered into. “You don’t look very good. Alright, you stay here, I’ll be right back.” Lilly leaves my field of vision, leaving me staring at my hands once more. The events of the last while playing and replaying in my head. No…not the last few minutes, but the two decades. Every day has been the same, and to what end? What have I been telling myself? What was my plan? I don’t really remember right now. I’d kill the beast that took my family away? Was that it? But I never succeed in my dreams, the ending is always the same, so why would it be any different in reality?

  My head slowly twists of its own volition to look at the form of the human on his side with his back to me, having now stopped coughing. As I watch, his breathing becomes stable, and I find my eyes avoiding his…arm, propped up on his side. I finally settle on it, inspecting it with a detached corner of my mind. It seems different, now that I actually look at it. The creature’s body was mottled, disfigured, and its arms were unlike any of the mortal races I’ve heard, seen, or read about. His is similar, but still decidedly human. He also has a ring, made of some probably imbued metal. It seems to flow actively like a fluid, and is a shimmering light blue-green—peridot, maybe? I wrack my mind, trying to remember essential color associations. Life? Poison, as well. A cruel joke of reality decided those two should look quite similar, I remember reading that specific fact. But I’ve never been able to call any of the components of either with any kind of competence, so I’m not certain and can’t check.

  I continue to run the comparison around in my mind, eventually distancing this man from the monsters in my mind enough to actually look him over with a critical eye. His clothes are completely shredded, barring some very well-secured pouches on durable belts strapped about him. “How did you get that messed up? Fully half or more of your exposed skin is scar tissue, are you an escaped prisoner or something? Not likely, with a bow and an enchanted ring…” I reach towards his discolored hand and make to grab it-.

  I am suddenly drenched with absolutely frigid water. I scream in surprise and swing my head around, shocked out of my own thoughts. Lilly is standing there beaming at me with a positively radiant smile holding a bucket, and it takes every bit of self-control I have to not shout at her. Instead, I seethe and glare daggers — willing her to burst into flames with my eyes. But only a little bit. “Why did you do that?! You know I hate being wet and especially hate being cold!” My clothes are entirely soaked through, and it leaves me mad enough that I almost forget about the person I just pulled out of the river.

  “Well, you were ignoring me, and that was terribly rude and out of character, so I needed to try to fix that.” She sticks her tongue out at me and I realize she’s in her larger form, standing around five feet tall with her golden hair streaming down to the middle of her back. Her clothes look pretty significantly torn at the seams after her transformation and are hanging relatively loosely around her. I realize I’ve been holding my breath and slowly exhale.

  “Well…thanks. I think I needed it this time. But don’t get it in your head that because I did actually need it this time that this is an acceptable tactic in the future.” I make an exaggerated display of looking at her up and down, gesturing at her distressed clothes that are barely covering her pale, gold-cracked skin, “Aiming for the tomboy princess look now? So much for your noble regality.” I turn to the man on the ground as I see a flash of indignation cross her face, and she opens her mouth to protest, “Let’s get him back to the cabin. I can’t say I know what’s going on with him, but maybe one of my books will have some context, if we’re lucky.”

  “And you still need to tell me what, exactly, happened back there, by the way.” Lilly says with an uncharacteristic bit of firmness, and I visibly flinch at the idea. “You scared me. Seriously.” Scooping the man up into a princess carry, I look anywhere but at her. The last thing I really want to do is explain to her what, exactly, happened back there.

  I notice that where his right arm had fallen had drained the grass of color, so I keep that arm, his right arm, on the side farthest from me. That weirdness aside, he also feels deceptively light. I’ve always been strong — it runs in my blood — but a human of his size should probably weigh more. At least, I assume so, I don’t really have a comparison. That’s something for later, though.

  Lilly continues to press me and probe the entire walk. She can clearly tell I’m being evasive and pushing all the harder because of it. The Fae can’t stand secrets in their presence, and Lilly isn’t hardly unique in that regard—especially since this was a “secret” she had apparently been around but unaware of for such a long time. After a more pointed question about my shrine in the cave, I step into the cabin and lay the man on my bed and the mattress lets out a sigh as it compresses, seemingly pleased to have an occupant after a lonely night and day. Him situated, I turn to face Lilly with an exhausted, and probably downtrodden, expression.

  “Look, Lilly, if I promise to tell you, is that enough for now? I honestly don’t have it in me.”

  Lilly’s eyes light up, and I realize what I’d done with my wording, and before I can correct myself, she speaks buoyantly, “Of course! That’s entirely fine, I don’t want to pressure you, I’m just really worried is all. And maybe I’m just a little excited to hear a secret.” She says quickly and excitedly, but I don’t have the heart in me right now to burst her bubble that it’s not exactly going to be a fun secret. She knows my parents died when I was young, but I’ve never told her exactly how, so she’s probably built up an elaborate plot in her head about it at this point that I will surely be dispelling to replace with harsh reality.

  “Thanks, Lilly, and I’m sorry for worrying you. Once we get him situated, we’ll have a talk about it. Since you’re big right now, you mind going and fetching water while I look over the worst of his wounds?” Lilly grimaces, clearly not thrilled at the idea of labor, but goes to do so with only a little bit of complaining as she leaves. I deflate with a hard sigh and spin to kneel next to my bed and start to pull back and cut free bits of his shirt, making sure to keep pouches and pockets intact where possible. Two pouches in particular stand out as I set things aside and I, somewhat ashamed at my rudeness, open them. Both seem reasonably waterproofed, and the insides are only lightly damp.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Inside one is two very wordy documents. Carefully opening one at a time, I find they’re written in Eldaran common, appear to be deeds of some kind, and they are both signed over to an “Allanius Parchess”. Which I’m pretty sure is a man's name. Having no better options, or options at all, I opt to temporarily assign the name to him. Making that mental note, I open the other pouch and realize it is quite laden with coins, higher denominations than I usually handle. Easily ten times as much as I have to hand, or more. No small part of me wants to take some — after all, if I’m gonna buy supplies exceeding what I normally need, he might as well share the bill, right? I shake my head, setting aside the thought, deciding to wait until he wakes to ask unless given no other reasonable choice.

  I take the rest of his gear, a clearly well-loved knife and a bow that looks about as bad off as the man himself, looking maybe one or two draws away from snapping into a million tiny fragments. Whatever thicket of razors he ran through seems to have somehow spared the bowstring, though. Pretty lucky because aside from the damage, it seems like a nice bow, with the bindings reinforced with copper — an oddity that at least indicated he was likely from around here. The mortal kyn only ever used such a soft metal like copper for things like that if they believed they ran a reasonable risk of encountering the fey. That narrowed it down a little bit—probably within ten or so miles of the entirety of the court's lands, which is only a tenth of this entire continent…

  With most of his clothing cut away, I drape an extra blanket over him. It’s been getting chilly later in the day and into the nights, and evening is on the way. While I’ll never be truly cold except in the most extreme circumstances, he doesn’t have the same elemental makeup as me, and it wouldn't do for him to freeze to death.

  I set about actually inspecting his wounds: all of them are very clean, consistent, cuts, the same width and relative depth. They’ll heal well, but these were made with something with an almost surgical edge. “Did you get away from being tortured or something? Are you a criminal?” I ask my silent charge, struggling to come up with a reason apart from torture for someone who has suffered such punishment. Had it been part of a fight, things wouldn’t be so uniform. On closer inspection, there is one mark on his torso that stands out; a rather large stab wound, from the looks of it, that is right through the center of his neck. “No matter how deep that one was, it should have been lethal…” Reaching around the back of his neck, I feel scarring — indicating whatever it was went clear through his neck, but only just. I feel my eyes drawn to his dagger, a long fighting knife, but I shrug, adding it to the growing list of questions I’ll have for this guy.

  Continuing my inspection, I come to the magical — at least that’s my working assumption — arm. He must be suffering from some sort of exotic essentia poisoning: maybe an adventurer who relies on some esoteric compound essence and overused it? Overuse of Ignia runs risks like losing control of your body temperature, so maybe whatever he uses causes bodily changes? Wonder if it’ll go away in time. Could also be a shifter, I guess, but my books say those are incredibly rare and that they revert to their normal form when they lose concentration — and I seriously doubt he’s currently concentrating.

  I continue to muse as I look him over, cutting swatches out of some clean rags and dipping them in an alchemical poultice before applying them to the worst of his wounds, but as I progress I feel less and less like it’s necessary. I’m not certain, but I think some of the scars he had when I started were lessening, however slowly. But thoroughness is how I survive, so I continue before I eventually make it to the wounds on the weird arm. This, more than anything else, looks like he was flayed. Not surgical like the other cuts. These are rough, ragged, like something tore its way in…or out. The idea has me leaning back a bit, temporarily concerned that he might be a host to an exotic monster or something.

  “There’s nothing for it though”, I shrug slightly, “It’s not like I can just toss him out in the woods and pretend he never existed. Normal kyn or not, I’m not going to condemn someone to death. I’ll cross whatever bridge is coming when it comes.” I reach across his torso and take the hand on the suspect arm in my own to flip his arm over-

  Pain.

  The moment I come into contact with him, hand to hand, my mind goes blank as a jolt of pure agony fires through me. It comes from everywhere at once, like every mote of essence in my body is trying to shred its way out of me at the same time, without doing me the favor of flaying me first. My own hand clamps down as I feel my body seize and crumple. There’s a sensation at the edge of my perception in between the pain, it’s like the ignia essence is being pulled out of my body through my hand.

  The pain momentarily leaves as abject terror grips me. I see my fathers’ essence being drawn out of him at that creatures’ hands. I struggle trying to unclasp my hand, my muscles just won’t obey. With a titanic effort, I draw myself to my knees and reach across with my free hand and grab his arm, trying desperately to call my essence back to me, but it feels like trying to stop a tidal wave with a cup. I simply can’t overpower whatever is happening. My mind is racing trying to come to a solution, but I’m getting dizzy. The room is spinning, and I’m getting so cold. So, so cold.

  In a detached way, I wonder if this is what Ma and Pa felt. This seeming eternity of pain. But thinking about them, I realize that I have one thing to try. I grit my teeth, sucking in staggered breaths, filling my lungs. I will what little Ignia remains in my body and soul to my throat, shaping it as best I can with my mind so badly affected. A pitiful amount of essence comes to my call. I need more. I focus and remember the Hearth fruit I ate earlier. Feeling a small well of essence in my stomach, I reach for it, and it comes to my call. Focusing on the pain to ground me, I shape the spell and exhale with as much force as I can muster.

  I feel it. There’s a pop from somewhere deep inside me, followed by a growing pressure. A candle grows into an inferno, feeding on the remaining ambient essentia within my body. The heat sears my lungs, but it feels so natural that it acts like a momentary balm to the pain. The fire rages in my lungs and heart, and I push it outwards with my breath, guiding it across my skin and down my arm, like a living bolt of magical fabric. It slips between my fingers and into the tiny space between our hands and bursts, blasting my hand away from his. I feel an instant relief as the essence floods back into my body. I stagger to my feet for a second and reach for the table and open my mouth to shout for Lilly, but I can’t, my throat is scorched raw, and I think I’ve forgotten how to speak if my uncooperative mind is anything to go by.

  The room continues to spin, and as I reach the table, it seems like it’s starting to move away from me, my vision tunneling down to a single point of light in the distance. I reach out to catch myself, but my motions are too slow. I fall into the table, shoving it over, trying to keep my feet, it only serves to prolong my fall as I crash into my bookcase headfirst and collapse on my side, starting to curl in on myself, I see him sit bolt upright. “Ah, good, he’s awake, I’ll need to ask him-”. The thought trails off as I see him look over at me with a confusing expression, but that’s for later, I decide, I close my eyes. “I need to sleep until I warm up… I’m far too cold…”