The night in Malvos village was incredibly quiet. Stars scattered across the sky, while the full moon hung like a silent watcher, casting light over the village. Slava couldn't sleep. Ever since he saw the sylph in the field that morning, the image of the small creature tied up and weak behind the stranger had haunted him. What was its fate now? Was it still bound, or had it been sold off already?
Finally, Slava took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "I have to do this...," he whispered, his resolve hardening.
He carefully slipped out of his hut, creeping along the quiet path, making his way toward the inn where the stranger was staying. The old building was on the edge of the village, far from the other houses. Hiding in the shadows, Slava scanned his surroundings. There was no sign of life outside, only the faint glow of a torch by the inn's door.
Once sure it was safe, he snuck to the side of the building, heading toward the stable behind the inn. The smell of hay and horse manure stung his nose. But in the shadows, he could see the sylph tied up next to the stranger's horse. Its small wings looked crumpled, its eyes shut as if it had lost all hope.
"Sylph…" Slava whispered softly, crouching down near it.
The little creature opened its eyes, looking at Slava with a gaze of disbelief. "You again?" it whispered, voice trembling with fear. "Have you come to mock me?"
Slava shook his head quickly, whispering with determination, "I'm here to help you escape."
The sylph looked at him doubtfully. "Why would you… Humans rarely do this for beings like me. I'm not even one of your kind."
Something tugged at Slava's heart, as if a part of the sylph's words woke him up. "I know your life has nothing to do with mine. But I know what it feels like to be trapped... helpless. I won't let you stay bound like this. So... let me help you."
The sylph sighed softly, looking both reluctant and hopeful. "If you can untie these bindings, I'll fly far… as far as I can."
Slava bent down and began loosening the knots holding the sylph and the horse. Every so often, he glanced around, making sure no one was watching them.
"Are you… are you sure you can escape?" Slava asked once he'd finally freed the sylph's hands and wings. "If they catch you again... they might treat you even worse."
The sylph gently flapped its wings, testing its strength. "Don't worry about me. I've seen worse than this." The sylph looked Slava over, assessing the young man before it. "What's your name, human?"
"Slava."
"A simple name… but full of courage. You're different from most humans I've met, Slava. Thank you for helping me." The sylph gave a faint smile before continuing, "This world… it's full of darkness. I hope you're ready to face whatever awaits you."
Slava gave a small, bitter smile. "Maybe. But right now… what matters is that you're free."
Just as they finished speaking, footsteps echoed closer to the stable. Slava's heart raced. The sylph looked up, then whispered quickly, "Go! Don't let them catch you too."
Slava hurried back, hiding behind a stack of hay, while the sylph swiftly beat its wings and flew out of the stable, disappearing into the night. The stranger entered the stable, his face twisting in anger when he saw the loose ropes and his horse standing alone.
"Who would dare do this?" he growled, eyes scanning the area.
Slava held his breath behind the hay, praying the man wouldn't see him. After a tense moment, the man finally left, muttering curses as he walked away.
Once the stranger's footsteps faded, Slava stepped out of his hiding place, exhaling a sigh of relief. He still couldn't believe he'd actually done it—freeing a magical creature and defying his own fears. A faint smile crossed his face, feeling both proud and terrified of what he had just done.
Without wasting any time, he quickly ran back to his hut, hoping that no one would suspect him in the morning. In the stillness of that night, Slava realized that something inside him had begun to change. Helping the sylph was a simple act, but to him, it felt like the first step toward something bigger—something he couldn't yet understand.