In the quiet gloom of a small chamber, the faint flicker of a single candle danced, stretching long shadows across shelves cluttered with jars of dried herbs, vials of tinctures, and neatly tied scrolls. The air hung heavy with the mingling scents of crushed rosemary, aged parchment, and the sharp, medicinal aroma of ground roots and preserved extracts. Above, bundles of lavender and thyme dangled from wooden beams, their fragrant presence keeping both pests and sickness at bay.

At a weathered oak table, a blind man sat, his fingers tracing the raised ink of an old tome with a delicate yet deliberate touch. His simple robes bore the faint marks of countless remedies—hints of saffron, smudges of powdered charcoal, and a subtle streak of honey. Beside him, a mortar and pestle sat idle, as though he had paused mid-preparation to lose himself in the book’s pages.

He hesitated, then turned the page with slow, thoughtful care. Though the light of his eyes had long faded, the words within the tome were not lost to him. They spoke to him through his fingertips, their secrets unfolding in the quiet of the room.

As his fingers traced the raised ink of the tome, a woman's voice suddenly broke the silence behind him.

"Sicht, you sure have a lot of free time, don’t you?"

Without turning, the man sighed. "Slimy, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop sneaking up on me like that. This isn't the first time—or the second."

The voice belonged to Lina, though Sicht often called her "Slimy" in jest. She was no ordinary woman—her form was that of a slime, a shimmering, translucent being who could shift her shape at will. Her voice was soft and melodic, but it carried a playful edge that always seemed to cut through Sicht's seriousness. Today, she had taken on a humanoid shape, her body glistening faintly in the candlelight, her features smooth and ethereal, like liquid glass given life.

She glided closer, her form rippling slightly as she moved, and leaned against the table. Her ‘arms’ folded in a mockingly human gesture, though her edges blurred and flowed like water. "Maybe if you weren't so engrossed in your dusty old books, you'd notice me coming," she teased, her voice softening just enough to take the edge off her words.

Sicht's lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners. "Maybe if you didn't enjoy startling me so much, I wouldn't need to keep reminding you.”

She laughed, a sound like the gentle bubbling of a stream, and reached out to brush her gelatinous fingers lightly over the back of his hand. The sensation was cool and smooth, almost electric, and Sicht couldn't help but shiver. "You know I can't resist," she said, her voice dripping with mischief. "You always make it so easy.”

He paused, his hand stilling on the page. For a moment, the air between them seemed to shift, the playful banter giving way to something quieter, something deeper. Sicht turned his head slightly, as if he could see her through the darkness that had claimed his sight long ago.

"You're incorrigible," he said, his voice low, but there was no real reproach in his tone. If anything, it carried a warmth that belied his words.

"And yet, you put up with me," she replied, her voice equally soft. She shifted her form, her body flowing like liquid as she moved closer, her presence a comforting weight beside him. "Why is that, I wonder?"

Sicht hesitated, his fingers curling slightly against the page. "Perhaps because you're the only one who doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass," he admitted after a moment. "Or maybe because you're the only one who can make me forget, even for a moment, that I can't see.”

Sicht hesitated, his fingers curling slightly against the page. "Perhaps because you're the only one who doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass," he admitted after a moment. "Or maybe because you're the only one who can make me forget, even for a moment, that I can't see.”

Her form rippled, a sign of her emotions bubbling to the surface, and for a heartbeat, the room was utterly still. Then she reached out, her gelatinous hand brushing against his cheek, her touch as gentle as the first light of dawn. "Sicht," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't need sight to see what's right in front of you.”

The door to the chamber burst open with a loud thud, nearly rattling the shelves of herbs and vials lining the walls. Lina instinctively shifted her form, liquefying slightly as she pulled away from Sicht, startled by the sudden intrusion.

"Is there a physician here?!" A frantic voice called out, breathless and strained.

Harriet stood at the entrance, his golden eyes wide with urgency. Geschicht floated slightly above his back, his body eerily weightless, bobbing just above Harriet’s shoulders as if gravity had momentarily forgotten him. Harriet’s spectral hands flickered faintly in the dim candlelight, barely holding Geschicht in place as he rushed forward. The boy’s face was flushed from exertion, his long sleeves damp with sweat.

Sicht’s head tilted toward the commotion, his senses immediately sharpening. The scent of damp earth and lingering fever clung to the newcomer like a second skin, and the faint, erratic breaths of the unconscious one told him everything he needed to know.

"Set him down here," Sicht ordered, his voice steady and composed despite the chaos. He gestured toward a sturdy wooden cot in the corner of the room.

Harriet wasted no time, carefully lowering Geschicht onto the cot. As soon as he let go, the spectral hands faded from sight, and Geschicht’s body settled against the rough fabric of the mattress. His face was pale, beads of sweat dotting his forehead, and his breathing was shallow, each inhale more labored than the last.

Sicht moved with practiced ease, his hands ghosting over the boy’s body, his fingers reading his pulse, tracing the heat that clung to his fevered skin. “High fever… overworked lungs… dehydration.” His brows furrowed. “How long has he been like this?”

Harriet ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling sharply. “Since this morning, but he wouldn’t stop moving. We were travelling through the night and we didn’t sleep.”

Lina folded her arms, her gelatinous form shimmering faintly as she observed the two boys. “You dragged a fevered boy through the woods without seeking help sooner?” Her tone was light, teasing, but the concern beneath it was evident.

Harriet scowled. “He didn’t tell me! He acted like he was fine, then he nearly passed out on me!”

Sicht sighed, shaking his head. “Stubbornness can be more dangerous than any illness.” He turned, his hands moving swiftly as he gathered supplies—a damp cloth, a bottle of herbal tincture, a vial of concentrated ginger extract. The room filled with the scent of crushed herbs and steaming water as he prepared a remedy.

Harriet lingered at Geschicht’s side, his gloved hands twitching at his sides. He hated feeling useless. His whole life, he had been able to do things other people couldn’t. He could stop things from falling, could catch things before they hit the ground—but sickness? He couldn’t fight that. He couldn’t punch a fever away.

A cool hand, or something close to it, patted his shoulder. Lina stood beside him, her translucent fingers pressing against the fabric of his coat. “He’ll be fine,” she murmured. “Sicht’s the best at what he does.”

Harriet nodded stiffly, his gaze fixed on Geschicht’s face. He looked peaceful, despite the fever—like he was dreaming of something far away.

Sicht pressed the damp cloth to Geschicht’s forehead, muttering under his breath as he worked. “He’ll need rest, fluids, and something to break the fever.” He poured a measured amount of the herbal tincture into a wooden cup and lifted it to Geschicht’s lips. “You, help him drink.”

Harriet’s spectral hands appeared instantly, gently lifting Geschicht’s head as Sicht guided the cup to his lips. Geschicht stirred slightly, his lashes fluttering, but he drank, his body instinctively responding to the warmth of the remedy.

A moment passed in silence, the weight of the night’s events settling over them like a heavy blanket.

Then, in a hoarse whisper, Geschicht mumbled something barely audible. Harriet leaned closer. “What?”

Geschicht’s lips curled into a faint, delirious smile. “Don’t… punch the child…”

Harriet blinked. Then scowled. Then let out a frustrated groan, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re thinking about that?! You were dying a second ago!”

Lina snorted, barely containing her laughter, while Sicht simply shook his head with an amused sigh.

“Well,” Sicht said, adjusting the damp cloth on Geschicht’s forehead. “If he’s still able to joke, I’d say he’ll recover just fine.”

Harriet finally took a moment to observe the man before him and noticed the lack of focus in his eyes. "Your name is Sicht, right?" he asked, reaching for his coin pouch. Without wasting time, he continued, "How much will it cost? The treatment, the cure—whatever it takes. I can afford it."

Sicht nodded, his expression calm and composed. "A treatment will allow his body to fight off the cold naturally, but if you want to speed up the recovery, you'll need medicine. Of course, that comes at a higher price. The cure will cost you 200 Doh."

Without hesitation, Harriet handed over the money. "Good thing you're not charging some outrageous price for it," he said, relieved.

"Isn't it strange that a physician’s dwelling is built all the way out here?" Harriet asked. "I mean, it took us three days to find this place. It must be really far from any towns."

"Well—" Sicht began to reply, but Lina interrupted, her slime body swerving around him. "It's because of me," she said.

"Wanna hear our story?" Lina asked, a smug smile crossing her face.

Sicht let out a sigh. "Slimy, do as you please."

"It would be fun to hear the story of how you two ended up together and all the way here," Harriet said.

Lina chuckled and glanced at Sicht. "Well, he still hasn't proposed to me."

Sicht shot back, "Don't bother me, I'm treating the patient."

With a sigh, Lina began to retell the story of that fateful day when she first met him, ten years ago. Back when Sicht still had his sight.

That day, Lina was nothing more than a mindless creature—just a shapeless blob of slime, drifting aimlessly in a small cave beneath the earth. She had no sense of purpose, no awareness of anything beyond the dark, damp walls that confined her. Her existence was a quiet, formless routine, until everything changed.

It was then that Sicht came crashing down from above. The roof of the cave, weakened by time and unseen fractures, gave way beneath him, and before he could even cry out, he plummeted into the darkness below. The impact was brutal—air forced from his lungs as he hit the hard, uneven ground. Pain shot through his body, and for a moment, all he could do was lie there, stunned.

Am I dead? he thought, his head spinning. No, he was still breathing, though his ribs ached and his limbs felt stiff. He groaned, pushing himself up with shaking arms, his fingers scraping against the cold rock beneath him. Dust swirled in the faint light filtering down from the collapsed ceiling, but the true weight of his situation hadn’t fully sunk in yet.

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Then he saw it.

A glistening, formless mass, barely visible in the dim cave. It was silent—too silent. Not moving, not lunging, just… there. Watching.

His breath hitched. His instincts screamed at him—Monster. His heart pounded in his chest as he scrambled backward, pressing his back against the damp cave wall. His hand instinctively went to his belt, but his knife wasn’t there. It had slipped from its sheath in the fall. He swallowed hard.

Damn it.

He wasn’t sure what kind of creature he was dealing with, but it wasn’t attacking—yet. If it wanted to, it could have already. That alone was strange. Most monsters, when faced with an injured human, wouldn’t hesitate. They’d strike, devour, leave nothing behind.

But this thing—it wasn’t moving.

Sicht narrowed his eyes, forcing his breathing to slow. He could barely make out its shape in the darkness, but what struck him wasn’t its appearance. It was the way it felt. Something about it… wasn’t right.

Was it scared?

The thought was absurd, and yet, as the silence stretched between them, he realized he wasn’t the only one frozen in place. The creature hadn’t advanced, hadn’t shifted toward him in any way. It just hovered there, uncertain. As if it was waiting.

For what?

His grip on the wall loosened slightly. If it was dangerous, it was the worst hunter he had ever encountered. He should have been dead by now.

Tentatively, he shifted forward, just enough to test the creature’s reaction. It flinched.

Sicht blinked.

"You’re… not going to eat me, are you?" he muttered under his breath, half to himself, half to the creature.

The slime didn’t respond. Of course it wouldn’t. It was just a mindless monster. Right?

But for some reason, as the seconds stretched on, Sicht couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t the only one trying to figure things out.

Panic simmered beneath his skin, but he forced himself to stay calm. There had to be a way out—there always was. He just had to find it.

Sicht took a deep breath and pressed his palm against the damp stone, hoping to feel a draft, a whisper of air that might lead to an unseen passage. But the walls were unyielding, as if the cave itself had swallowed him whole. He clenched his jaw. He couldn't afford to waste time.

His gaze flickered toward the creature. It hadn't moved much, but it was still there, watching him. He had tried to ignore it, but in the oppressive silence, its presence became impossible to overlook.

He exhaled sharply and muttered, mostly to himself, "You're really not going to attack me, huh?"

The slime quivered slightly but did nothing else. Sicht frowned. Most monsters acted on instinct—predatory, mindless, or territorial. But this one seemed... hesitant.

A strange thought struck him.

It lives down here. It survives down here.

His stomach twisted at the realization. He might be trapped, but this thing wasn't. It had been here long before he fell, and it would remain here long after he wasted away—unless...

Sicht reached into the small satchel still fastened at his waist, fingers fumbling over the few supplies he had left. Dried herbs. Some crushed medicinal roots. Nothing that would help him escape. But an idea formed in the back of his mind—reckless, maybe even stupid, but he was running out of options.

Slowly, he pulled out a small sprig of dried leaves and extended his hand toward the creature.

"You eat, don’t you?" he murmured.

The slime rippled, shifting slightly, as if reacting to his words.

Sicht inhaled. "You must know a way in and out of here. If you can get out… you can help me."

It was absurd—trying to communicate with a creature that, for all he knew, didn't even understand speech. But something deep in his gut told him this wasn't just any mindless monster.

He waited, arm outstretched, heart pounding, wondering if the creature before him could truly grasp what he was asking.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The cave was silent except for the faint dripping of water from some unseen crevice, a slow, rhythmic sound that marked the passage of time. Sicht kept his hand steady, the dried herbs resting on his palm, his breath shallow as he watched the slime inch closer. His muscles were tense, poised to react in case the creature suddenly lunged at him. His mind raced with possibilities—would she ignore the offering? Absorb it without a second thought? Would she perceive it as a threat? He had no idea what to expect.

Lina hesitated, her translucent form wobbling slightly, uncertain. The scent of the herbs was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. She had never encountered something like this before. In all her time existing in the cave, she had never been given anything—never had a reason to take or refuse. Her instincts were simple: she absorbed things when she needed to, moved when she wanted to, but this… this was new. The human was offering something to her. Why?

She edged forward, cautious but drawn in by curiosity.

Sicht remained still, barely daring to breathe. His heart pounded against his ribs as he watched a single tendril of slime extend hesitantly, stopping just short of his outstretched hand. He fought the urge to flinch. Then, with deliberate slowness, Lina’s form shifted further, her gelatinous appendage creeping toward the bundle of herbs, wrapping around them with a gentle, almost delicate touch.

Sicht blinked. He hadn’t expected it to feel so… intentional.

The slime absorbed the herbs into her form, the dry leaves dissolving within her like ink dispersing in water. It wasn’t food, not in the way she understood it, but something about the exchange felt significant. There was no immediate, instinctual reaction. No attack. No attempt to retreat. She simply accepted it.

For the first time, Lina felt something stir inside her—something foreign, something she couldn’t name. She didn’t understand what had just happened, but she knew one thing: this was different.

Sicht exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. She took it. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was a start.

Emboldened, he spoke again, keeping his voice calm and steady. “That’s right. You take it.”

Lina quivered at the sound of his voice, her form rippling slightly. His words—though meaningless to her—felt oddly… familiar. Different from the usual sounds that echoed through her cave, different from the distant rumbles of shifting rock or the faint drip of water. It was something directed at her.

Sicht swallowed. He was stuck down here, possibly for good. He had no tools, no weapons, and no way of climbing back up. The walls were too smooth, too sheer, and the only other presence in this cave was this strange, sentient mass of slime.

But maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t just a mindless creature.

Maybe she could learn.

And if she could learn…

Maybe she could help him escape.

Sicht’s heart pounded as he watched her prod the herbs. It wasn’t much, but it was a response—a sign that she was paying attention. He could feel a sliver of hope creeping in. If she understood that he was trying to communicate, even in the simplest way, then maybe he had a chance.

Carefully, he repeated his gestures. He pointed to the herbs, then motioned toward the walls of the cave again. His movements were slow and deliberate, his expression tense with anticipation. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath. “There’s got to be a way out of here. You must know something.”

Lina watched him closely. His motions were strange—different from anything she had ever encountered. She had never needed to think about meaning before, never had to decipher intentions. But there was something about the way he moved, the way he focused on her with such intensity, that made her hesitate.

She turned her attention back to the herbs now resting on the cave floor. They weren’t food, but they had a scent that reminded her of the surface—the faint trace of wind and sunlight, of places beyond this dark cavern. A distant memory stirred within her, something primal and unshaped.

Sicht, seeing her hesitation, took a different approach. He touched the herbs, then touched himself, as if to say they were his. Then he pointed at her, then to the walls, repeating the motion as patiently as he could. His expression softened, his voice low but hopeful. “Can you help me?”

Lina hesitated. Help?

She didn’t know what the word meant, but something in the way he looked at her made her feel… important. Needed. She had never been needed before.

Slowly, she shifted, her form undulating like water. Then, with deliberate purpose, she turned toward the farthest edge of the cave and began to move. Not randomly, not aimlessly, but in a specific direction.

Sicht straightened, eyes widening.

She was leading him somewhere.

Sicht watched as Lina pressed her slimy form into the narrow gap, her translucent body shifting to fit through spaces he wouldn’t have even thought to check. His breath caught as she stilled for a moment, then reemerged, her form rippling with something almost like excitement. She turned back toward him, quivering slightly, and then did something unexpected—she mimicked his earlier gesture, motioning toward the gap with a slimy tendril.

He blinked. Had she understood?

Cautiously, he approached the spot she had indicated, brushing away loose dirt and debris with his hands. At first, it seemed impossible—just another tight crevice in the rock—but as he peered closer, he noticed something beyond the narrow space. A faint draft. His heart pounded.

Air.

A way out.

A surge of relief swept over him, but it was quickly tempered by a new problem. The gap was far too small for him to squeeze through. He exhaled sharply, frustration mounting, but before he could even consider his next move, Lina acted.

With an odd sort of determination, she pushed herself forward, slipping through the cracks, seeping into the narrowest parts of the stone as though testing its weaknesses. Sicht could only watch as she twisted and stretched, coating the edges of the passage. Then, as if sensing his gaze, she withdrew slightly, as if urging him to continue.

His mind raced. Was she showing him where to dig?

He didn't waste another second. He dropped to his knees and began clawing at the loose rock, working with frantic energy. His fingers scraped against rough stone, dirt caking beneath his nails, but he didn’t stop. Every time he faltered, Lina moved forward again, pressing against weak points, helping loosen the debris. They worked in tandem, an unspoken understanding passing between them—he had the strength, and she had the ability to find the way.

Little by little, the passage widened. The draft grew stronger. The scent of damp earth mixed with the distant hint of fresh air. Hope swelled in Sicht’s chest.

And then, at last, the opening was wide enough.

He barely hesitated. With one last push, he squeezed through the gap, his body scraping against rough stone. He gritted his teeth at the sting but didn’t stop—not until he stumbled forward into a narrow tunnel, the cavern behind him finally left behind.

For a moment, he just lay there, breathing hard, his limbs aching. Then, with a quiet squelch, Lina slipped through the passage after him, reforming at his side.

Sicht let out a breathless laugh, half from exhaustion, half from disbelief. He turned his head toward the strange creature who had just saved his life.

“…Thanks,” he murmured, voice rough but sincere.

Lina didn’t understand the words. But the way he looked at her, the warmth in his voice—she understood that.

And for the first time in her existence, she felt something.

As the days passed, their odd companionship settled into something natural. Lina, once a mindless creature bound to the shadows, now explored the world with an almost childlike curiosity. She mimicked the way he walked, shifting her gelatinous body into rough imitations of legs, though she never quite got the balance right. She would stretch toward the sky when he did, as if trying to grasp the sunbeams filtering through the trees. And when he rested by the fire at night, she would sit beside him, watching the flames flicker with silent fascination.

Sicht, for his part, found himself growing used to her strange presence. He would glance over his shoulder and expect to see her there, trailing behind him with her silent, fluid movements. He started speaking aloud, at first just to himself, but over time, more to her. He knew she didn’t understand most of what he said, but she listened anyway, her shifting form tilting as if absorbing his words.

One evening, as they sat beneath the shelter of an old tree, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You know," he mused, "I still don't understand why you're following me."

Lina, who had been observing a fallen leaf with great interest, turned her attention to him.

He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "I mean, you could go anywhere now. Why stick with me?"

She blinked—at least, he thought it was a blink—and then did something unexpected. She mimicked his sigh, her form wobbling as if trying to imitate his exhale.

Sicht stared at her before letting out a short laugh. “You’re really something else.”

Lina didn’t understand the words, but she understood his amusement. And for some reason, she liked it.

So, she stayed.

As the night deepened, the fire crackled softly, casting warm flickers of light against the surrounding trees. The air was cool, carrying the distant hum of insects and the rustling of leaves. Sicht sat with his back against the tree, arms crossed, his body heavy with exhaustion. It had been a long day of walking, and despite everything, he was still human—he needed rest.

Lina, on the other hand, didn’t seem to need sleep, yet she remained close. She watched as Sicht shifted, trying to find a comfortable position against the rough bark. His movements slowed, his breathing evening out, and soon, he drifted into slumber.

For a moment, she simply observed. The rise and fall of his chest. The way his face relaxed in sleep, free of the guarded expressions he often wore when awake. The thought occurred to her that he looked… peaceful like this.

A cool breeze swept through the clearing, and Sicht unconsciously shivered. Without hesitation, Lina moved closer. Carefully, she shifted her form, wrapping part of herself around his shoulders like a soft, warm blanket. It wasn’t something she had ever done before, but somehow, it felt right.

Sicht stirred slightly at the unfamiliar sensation but didn’t wake. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh and, instinctively, leaned into her warmth.

Lina stilled, surprised. Then, slowly, she settled beside him, her body pressed lightly against his, offering warmth and comfort in the only way she knew how.

The fire crackled on, the night carried on, and for the first time in either of their lives, She found him.