The world reeked of smoke and blood.

Elythya crouched beneath the shadow of a fallen tree, her fingers clutching its rough, splintered bark as though the wood itself could anchor her in the chaos. Around her, the forest pulsed with unnatural sounds: the anguished wails of her kin, the raucous laughter of men drunk on bloodlust, and the wet crunch of steel cleaving flesh. Each noise stabbed through her, a reminder of how powerless she was. Her silver hair clung to her face, streaked with crimson that wasn't her own. The blood of her people marked her like a brand.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she pressed herself tighter against the tree trunk. The acrid smell of burning wood and flesh filled her nostrils, threatening to choke her. The once-vibrant forest had turned into a nightmare—the trees she had grown up playing among now twisted shadows against an angry red sky. Her village, hidden deep within this forest, was gone. Nothing but ash and ruin remained.

A guttural voice rang out, slurred and mocking. "We know you're out there, little she-elf! C'mon out! We just wanna play, eh?"

Elythya froze. Her body screamed at her to run, but she stayed rooted to the spot. She'd seen what happened to those who ran. She'd heard their screams, the horrible finality of their struggles. Running only hastened the end. Her hand shook as she reached for the dagger strapped to her waist. It was a pitiful weapon, more suited to cutting fruit than defending herself, but it was all she had.

The man's footsteps grew louder. He wasn't alone. Another voice joined him, laughing, cruel and careless. "Bet she's hiding like the others. Probably crying, too. Elves are always crying."

"Yeah," the first man sneered. "They cry real pretty."

Elythya bit her lip, her teeth digging into the soft flesh to keep herself silent. Tears blurred her vision as her mind raced. Think. Think. What would Mother do? What would Father say? But their faces came to her in a rush of painful memory—Mother crumpling under a sword's blow, Father screaming as fire consumed their home. She stifled a sob, her hand flying to her mouth.

The crunch of leaves was louder now. They were close, too close. She dared a glance through the undergrowth and caught a glimpse of one of them. He was filthy, his face smeared with soot and blood, his grin wide and hungry. His axe rested on his shoulder, its edge glinting faintly in the dying light.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She closed her eyes, trying to calm the rising panic. You can't let them find you. You can't.

And then the air changed.

It was subtle at first, a heavy stillness that descended over the forest like a shroud. The men stopped talking. Even the distant screams and crackle of flames seemed to fade. Elythya's ears twitched, straining to catch any sound, but the world had fallen into an unnatural silence. Her skin prickled as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

And then she felt it—a hum, deep and resonant, vibrating through the ground and up into her bones. It wasn't magic—at least, not the kind she knew. It felt colder, sharper, like a blade pressed against her skin.

She opened her eyes and saw him.

He emerged from the shadows as if he had always been a part of them. Tall and broad-shouldered, his frame was draped in a weathered green cloak that shifted with his steps. Beneath it, black armor clung to his body, scratched and battered, yet somehow more menacing for its wear. A sword hung loosely at his side, its blade dark and unreflective, as if it absorbed the light around it.

Elythya's breath caught. He wasn't one of the raiders. He moved with too much purpose, his every step deliberate and soundless. But he wasn't an elf, either. No elf carried such a presence, so heavy it felt like the air itself bowed to him.

Her first thought was that he might be a spirit—some vengeful force drawn to the carnage. But no, his movements were too real, too solid. A human? Her chest tightened. Humans had brought this destruction, and this one… this one seemed even more dangerous.

The raiders noticed him too. One of them, the man with the axe, stepped forward, his expression twisting into a sneer. "Oi, you lost, pal? Or you here to join the fun?"

The figure didn't respond. He stopped a few feet away, tilting his head slightly as though studying the man.

"Not much of a talker, eh?" The raider's grin widened as he hefted his axe. "No matter. You'll scream like the rest of 'em."

What happened next was so fast Elythya almost missed it. The figure moved, not with the roar of power or flash of magic, but with a quiet efficiency that was somehow more terrifying. His blade whispered through the air, a single stroke that left the raider standing there, blinking in confusion.

Then the man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The other raiders froze. For a moment, silence reigned, broken only by the soft rustle of the stranger's cloak as he stepped forward.

"Demon," one of the men hissed, backing away. "He's a demon!"

The stranger didn't speak. Another raider lunged at him, swinging a heavy club, but the man sidestepped with ease. His sword struck again, and the raider fell. By the time the remaining men thought to flee, three bodies lay at his feet.

The last of them ran, their panicked cries fading into the distance. Elythya pressed herself deeper into the shadows, her heart pounding. Relief should have come, but it didn't. Instead, a new fear took its place. The raiders were gone, but this man… he was still here. And he was human.

She didn't notice he had turned toward her until his voice broke the silence.

"You can come out now."

It was deep and steady, carrying none of the cruelty she had come to expect from his kind. But that didn't mean she could trust him.

Her fingers tightened on the bark, her nails digging into the rough surface. She didn't move.

"I know you're there," he said again, softer this time. "You're safe. I won't hurt you."

Safe. The word sounded foreign, almost meaningless. Slowly, reluctantly, she rose from her hiding place. Her clear blue eyes, sharp despite the tears, fixed on him warily. She kept her distance, her feet planted firmly on the forest floor, ready to flee at the first sign of danger.

He didn't move. His green eyes, calm and steady, regarded her with an unreadable expression.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling despite her effort to keep it steady.

"A traveler," he said simply.

"Why did you save me?"

His gaze didn't waver, but something in his eyes softened—just for a moment. "Because no one else would."

Her breath hitched. She glanced at the bodies around him, her mind racing. He had taken down the raiders with terrifying ease. Too much ease. Who was this man? And why had he bothered to save her?

"You're human," she said, the accusation sharp in her tone.

"I am," he admitted, his voice even.

Her hand twitched toward the dagger at her side. She didn't trust him. She couldn't. Humans had destroyed everything she had. Her home. Her family. Her people. Anger flared in her chest, mixing with the fear.

"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "You've been through enough."

His words stopped her short. She stared at him, searching his face for any hint of deception. There was none. Just weariness and something else she couldn't place. Guilt, perhaps?

The emotions bubbling inside her finally spilled over. "You think you understand? You don't! Your kind destroyed everything!" Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face. "My home. My family. My people!"

He didn't flinch. "You're right," he said softly. "I don't understand. And I can't undo what's been done. But I'm not here to harm you."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and unyielding. Elythya's chest heaved, her emotions warring within her. She didn't trust him. Not yet. But he had saved her, and for now, that was enough.

"What's your name?" she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, as though the question caught him off guard. "Tiberon," he said at last.

She didn't give her own name. Not yet.

Instead, she gestured toward the carnage around them. "What now?"

Tiberon's jaw tightened as he glanced at the bodies, his green eyes darkening. "We leave," he said simply. "This place isn't safe."

"And go where?" she pressed, her voice laced with suspicion.

His gaze shifted to the horizon, where the forest stretched endlessly into the unknown. "Somewhere better," he said. "I'll make sure of it."

For reasons she couldn't explain, Elythya believed him.