Cain’s breaths came in shallow, hurried gulps as he edged along the stone wall, his gaze darting toward the dense forest at his back. The creature, with its menacing green eyes and low growls, had chased him relentlessly through the woods, and he could still feel its presence, lingering just beyond the treeline. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, set his nerves on edge, making his heart pound in his chest. He half-expected to see the shadowy figure emerging from the darkness, ready to finish the hunt it had started.
The wall stretched onward, its rough stones cold beneath his fingertips as he traced them, grounding himself in the solidness of it. Finally, a faint glow pierced the evening gloom, and he spotted the village gate ahead, illuminated by the warm light of torches flickering on either side.
Two guards stood by the entrance, their armor and tunics simple yet sturdy, crafted from leather and iron like something out of a history textbook. They seemed to be securing the gate, preparing to close it for the night, when they noticed him approaching. One of them raised a hand, signaling him to stop, while the other narrowed his eyes, sizing him up.
“Halt!” one of the guards called, his voice stern but cautious. “What are you doing out here alone, and so close to nightfall?”
Cain hesitated, swallowing as he tried to catch his breath. He hadn’t exactly prepared an explanation for his sudden appearance, and the strange reality of his surroundings felt too absurd to voice. But he had to say something, so he spoke, the words coming out in a rushed jumble.
“I… I just woke up in the forest,” he stammered, brushing a hand through his hair as he glanced back toward the shadows. “I don’t even know where I am.”
The guards exchanged a look, a flicker of suspicion in their eyes. One of them leaned on his spear, his brow furrowed.
“A lost one, are you?” he muttered, an amused glint in his gaze. “Fae must’ve taken a liking to you, boy. Snatched you up and left you in the woods for sport, I wager.”
Cain blinked, struggling to process their response. "Fae?" He echoed the word with confusion, feeling even more out of place.
“Aye, the fae,” the other guard replied with a shrug. “Known for their tricks. Wouldn’t be the first time they dumped someone right at our doorstep.” He jerked his head toward the gate. “Come on, then. You’ll want to speak with the village head. He’ll decide what to do with you.”
Without further explanation, the guards motioned for him to follow as they led him inside, the heavy gate creaking shut behind them.
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Cain stepped through the gates, the weight of their closing thud resonating in his chest. He cast one last glance over his shoulder at the darkening woods, half-expecting to see those piercing green eyes staring back at him. But there was nothing—only the growing shadows and the distant whisper of the wind through the trees.
Inside, the village seemed a world away from the forest’s menace. Small cottages with thatched roofs lined the cobblestone streets, their windows glowing with the soft light of lanterns and hearth fires. The air carried the comforting scent of woodsmoke and baked bread, though the tension of his recent ordeal still gripped him.
As the guards led him down the street, Cain’s attention was drawn to a small marketplace, where the last remnants of the day's activity lingered. Stalls were being packed up, but in the center, a bard sat on a wooden stool, strumming a lute. His fingers danced over the strings, weaving a lively tune that filled the air with a strange mix of cheer and melancholy. A few villagers paused to listen, their faces softening under the spell of the music.
The guards said nothing as they escorted him through the village, their presence a silent shield against the curious gazes of those they passed. At the heart of the village stood a larger building, its sturdy wooden frame casting long shadows in the evening light. One of the guards knocked briskly on the heavy door, the sound cutting through the fading strains of the bard’s song.
The door creaked open to reveal a warm, well-lit room, dominated by a large stone hearth and a long table cluttered with maps and scrolls. An older man, seated at the head of the table, looked up from his work. His gray beard was neatly trimmed, and his sharp eyes studied Cain with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
The guards inclined their heads respectfully. “Village Head,” one began, “we found this one at the gates, claiming he woke in the woods with no memory of how he got there. We believe he might be a Lost One.”
The Village Head’s gaze sharpened as he took in Cain’s appearance. “Step forward, boy,” he commanded, his voice calm but firm.
Cain hesitated, then stepped into the warmth of the room, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
“What’s your name?” the Village Head asked.
“Cain,” he replied quietly. “Cain Stillwater.”
The older man nodded thoughtfully. “Cain Stillwater, you say? You’ve found yourself in a peculiar situation. Tell me, do you remember anything? How you came to be in the woods, perhaps?”
Cain shook his head, frustration flickering in his eyes. “No. I was somewhere else, and then… I woke up here.”
The Village Head exchanged a glance with the guards. “The fae’s doing, no doubt. They’ve been more active lately, leaving us with more Lost Ones like you. But you’re safe now.”
He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “We’ll make sure you have a place to sleep and food to eat. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out what’s to be done. For tonight, rest. You’ve had a long day, even if you don’t remember it.”
Cain nodded, a wave of relief washing over him. “Thank you,” he murmured.
The Village Head gestured to one of the guards. “Take him to the inn and see that he’s settled.”
As Cain followed the guard back into the cool night, the bard’s tune had shifted to a softer, almost mournful melody. The music trailed behind them, a bittersweet lullaby that seemed to underscore the weight of Cain’s uncertainty. Though his body craved rest, his mind churned with questions, each one a note in the haunting symphony of his new reality.