The first thing Ethan noticed when he came to was the sharp smell of smoke and the sound of crackling fire. His head throbbed, and his body felt like it had been run through a blender. Groaning, he opened his eyes and found himself lying on a bed of coarse fabric in front of a small campfire. The forest loomed around him, dark and alive with distant sounds of rustling leaves and faint animal calls.
"Finally awake?"
Ethan jerked his head up, ignoring the spike of pain in his neck. A man sat across the fire, tending to a pot of something that smelled faintly edible. He was tall, with leather armor that looked both functional and battered, and his face was marked by a jagged scar running from the corner of his eye to his jaw.
"Who… who are you?" Ethan croaked, his throat dry.
The man didn't look up from his work. "Name's Darius. You're lucky I found you when I did. I'd wager that ash serpent would've had you for dinner if it weren't for… whatever that was."
Ethan blinked, confused. His memories were hazy—flashes of light, pain, and a burning heat that seemed to consume him from the inside out. Then he remembered the serpent, the glowing crystal, and the symbols on his hand. He quickly raised his palm to inspect it.
The markings were still there, faint but unmistakable. They pulsed softly, almost like they were alive.
"You saw it?" Ethan asked cautiously.
Darius finally looked up, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied Ethan. "Hard to miss. The whole forest lit up like it was high noon. And that symbol on your hand? Never seen anything like it. Care to explain?"
Ethan shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't even know what it is. One moment I was being crushed by that… thing, and the next, this light just—" He gestured helplessly at his hand. "—happened."
Darius leaned back, resting his elbows on his knees. "So you have no idea what you've stumbled into? Great. Just great."
"Stumbled into?" Ethan repeated, feeling a knot of anxiety form in his chest. "What do you mean?"
Darius sighed, as if deciding how much he wanted to say. "This world isn't kind to people like you, stranger—people who don't belong. That mark on your hand? It's not normal, and anything that isn't normal around here either gets hunted or enslaved."
Ethan's mouth went dry. "Hunted? By what?"
"Depends," Darius said, shrugging. "Could be monsters, could be bounty hunters, could be the king's enforcers if you wander too close to civilization. Doesn't matter who—it'll all end the same way if you're not careful."
Ethan's head swam with questions, but one stood out above the rest. "Why are you helping me?"
Darius snorted. "Helping's a strong word. Let's just say I have a habit of picking up strays, and you looked half-dead when I found you. If you're expecting me to hold your hand, though, forget it. You're on your own after this."
"Wait—what? You're just going to leave me?"
Darius's expression hardened. "Listen, kid. I don't know who you are or what brought you here, but this world doesn't owe you anything. You survive by fighting or running. That's it. And judging by the way you nearly got eaten back there, I'd say you're not ready for either."
Ethan opened his mouth to protest, but Darius held up a hand.
"Look, I've got my own problems to deal with. Whatever that mark on your hand means, it's not my concern. Just keep your head down and don't draw attention to yourself."
Before Ethan could respond, Darius tossed something toward him. He caught it clumsily—it was a small leather pouch.
"Food," Darius said gruffly. "You'll need it."
Ethan stared at the pouch, then back at the man. "Why even bother if you're just going to leave?"
Darius smirked faintly. "Call it a whim. Or maybe I just want to see if you're dumb enough to survive."
With that, he stood, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. "The forest is dangerous at night, but it's even worse during the day. Stick to the shadows, avoid open areas, and if you see glowing eyes in the dark? Run."
Ethan scrambled to his feet, his legs unsteady. "Wait! You can't just—"
But Darius was already disappearing into the trees, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows.
Ethan sat back down, staring at the fire as his mind raced. He was alone, in a world he didn't understand, with nothing but a strange mark on his hand and a pouch of food to his name.
The glowing symbols pulsed faintly, and for a moment, he thought he heard a whisper—a voice just out of reach. He stared at his hand, clenching it into a fist.
If I'm going to survive here, he thought, I'll have to figure out what this mark is—and how to use it.
Somewhere in the distance, a howl pierced the night. Ethan's heart raced, but this time, he didn't run. He stared into the dark forest, his jaw set.
"I won't die here," he whispered.
The mark on his hand flared faintly in response.