Aaron died that day.

The world felt dull. Not dark, but discolored. Barely better than different shades of blank. His mind was mush, both unable and too tired to comprehend it.

So he didn't. He continued on, floating in the mist. Going by feel more than actual awareness. Aaron drifted in that blank weightless void for what felt like hours. Carried by ethereal winds.

Then, light. Blinding, as strong as the sun itself. It captured his attention like nothing else. An ethereal, divine from. Its sheer pressure was crushing. Trapped in black chains. Pale fingers reaching for him.

And the darkness was alive. And it was angry. Furious. Hungry. More chains snaked towards its limbs. Black metal bit its flesh. The glow intensified. A few chains hissed and retreated. More restrained it.

The hand struggled to move as the chains pulled it back. Aaron felt the urge to help. His soul shot towards the darkness. Ghostly fingers extended. Almost touching the light. Almost-

They touched. And his soul was set ablaze. The world was bright and vivid and scorching hot metal bubbling under his skin. Claws digging through his bones, searching for his very core. The sun burned bright behind his eyes and down his throat. Melting from inside. Doing

Disconnected images flashed through his mind. Artifacts so bright they burned holes in the mental images. A face made of gold and stars for eyes, looking down to him with settling resignation. She didn't want to be there, yet had little choice otherwise. The voice of glory given form spoke in his head. Frantic, hasty. Desperate.

The words, however, made no sense. A buzz rather than anything intelligible. A noise so familiar and at the same time so utterly alien it hurts. A crawl under his skin. The words should make sense. He knew they should. But his ears refused to understand.

White filled his view. A jerk movement. Something pulling fast and strong to the world above-

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Aaron woke in agony. Sharp. Deep inside his… everywhere, really. Stings in his shoulder and thorax, his chest, throbbing beats inside his head. His body wanted to move. Acting on instinct. Get up and back to the fight already. Unsurprisingly, to poor results. His muscles felt heavy and sluggish. A sac of deboned wet meat. A struggle to simply raise his head.

Little by little, his mushy brain came back into tune. The battle. The demons. He pushed Tina out of the way. And that lance. Then the river… It all came back in a rush.

Gods, no. No, no, no. Heavy hands flew to head as a new wave of pain crashed over him. This had to be a nightmare. A horrible dream ending in death. His hand reached for the hole in his chest. Praying to all gods he would find nothing.

He didn't find the lance, but did find a scar. His chest was almost totally healed by now, yet the mark remained where the metal head pierced through skin. But that was the worst of it. Same with his shoulder and flank. Aaron took a deep breath. Felt sore, fatigued. But not like drowning in sand.

Just like that, he was back from the dead.

"How…" Aaron scouted his surroundings. The room was unfamiliar. Someone must have rescued him, somehow. He was in a small and conformable bed. Drenched by sweat now. In what seemed to be a cozy wood cabin. Frilly curtains blocked the worst of the morning sun. Shelves full of books and plants to the right, a small wardrobe to the left. A few clothes piled over a study desk. Feminine, by the looks.

His dream came into mind. The presence chained in the darkness. Demanding a message to be spread. The sun itself burning away his pain and wounds.

A divinity. Aaron was sure of it. A god, chained deep in the dark, had chose him for an important duty. To do… something. His memory was hazy. The encounter, in particular. A dense wall of fog prevented him from recalling details.

"The one thing I wanted. In the worst day of my life." Aaron swallowed the spite creeping in his heart. It doesn't matter. He need to find the others. Teacher Celeste, Fia and Tina, Marnie... Make sure they are alive. Protect what is left.

Years of training and survival lessons took over. Aaron threw the sheets aside looking for other cuts and bruises. What he found instead was two things.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

First, he was almost naked. His savior had stripped him of armor and clothes. His sole grace was his underwear left mostly intact if one didn't take the plethora of new stains and tears from the journey down the river.

The second, and most embarrassing. The events of the day before had apparently not impacted his most primal urges. He was pitching a tent. A larger one than usual.

"Great…" Aaron ignored it. Its just a natural thing. He's a Squire. Almost a knight. Not a slave of his urges. "Where are my-"

Someone knocked on the door. "Hello? Are you awake?"

The door creaked open. Panic shot through Aaron's veins. He acted on reflex. Picked a pillow to cover his crotch just in time to avoid a really embarrassing conversation.

A woman poked her head inside the room. She had short, silky black hair styled in a fluffy bob. Curious brown eyes peeked from behind big round glasses. Looking at him with equal relief and concern.

"You are! Thank the gods." She pushed the door open. A big basket of herbs and vials of some kind at her feet. She was wearing a simple white and blue dress. High boots, drenched in mud, completed the laboring visual. One that did well in hiding some curves while accentuating others. The white shirt hugged her bountiful chest while the knee-length blue skirt provoked Aaron with the smallest glimpses of tight.

Aaron turned his head. Praying for all these indecent thoughts were not visible in his face. Thats not like him at all. This sudden urge was not normal. Not for him.

"Where am I?" He asked. Forcing his mind back on track. Focus on what is really important now. "Did you healed me?"

The woman seemed a bit taken back. His voice had come hasher than he expected. It didn't matter. His home. His family. That mattered.

"In our village. Redcrop. We… aren't in the maps anymore." Her gaze fell down. "I found you floating in the river with a lot of bad cuts and bruises. By the gods grace you were still breathing." She sat the basked on a chair. "Do you fell better?"

"Redcrop… how far are we from Rivercross?" Aaron inquired instead of answering.

"Rivercross? A week by horse if I am not wrong. But all roads leading there have been blocked." Her words died as realization settled. Not before they sunk cold in his heart. They are containing the area. It means the royal army deemed the city lost. "Oh. Did you… come from there?"

Aaron nodded weakly. Not sure how much he should say, he only gave her the basics. His name. Being a Squire under a Paladin. The demonic attack and falling in the river. Though he left out the extension of his wounds. He can't explain how he survived when he himself still can't understand.

"I see. I am sorry for your losses." The woman grabbed a necklace Aaron didn't notice at first. He recognized it as a emblem of Lady Spring. "My name is Amelia. Feel free to stay here for a while, Sir. Can't do much else than treating you wounds, I'm afraid."

"You are already doing more than enough. You have my thanks, miss Amelia. But I need- to go." His knee gave out in the first step. Aaron almost fell trying to get himself up. His vision blurred by pain. The migraine was getting worse.

"Wait. Sir Aaron you are in no condition of walking." Amelia held him firmly.

"I have a duty to Rivercross still! I need-" It doesn't matter his legs are shaking. He can't- its not too late damn it! It not…

The world flashed black. And now he was looking up. A new dull pain on his forehead as Amelia pushed his body. Calloused yet gentle hands held him down. Aaron fell, and only noticed when Amelia had put him back to bed. His consciousness like a frail candle in the wind.

"Please rest, sir. My mother is a healer. She taught me some healing spells. I can help a little, but your body needs to rest."

"Its-" nothing. The words got caught in his throat. The piercing pain echoed in his head. He should be dead. That lance, that arrow. They should have killed him. This is not something one can hug off as if it was nothing. She's right. He can't afford to break. "If its alright."

Amelia nodded. Her hands gently held his head. A warm glow embraced him vision and body. The familiar hug of Lady Spring. Keeper of Nature and Healing Springs.

He knew this magic. Memories assaulted his mind. Lira, the priestess of Lady Spring he knew all his life. Scolding little Aaron for playing in the woods. Her corpse abandoned under a pile of rubble. Dead. Alone.

Silent tears fell on his lap. The pain was too much to think. A burning mass in his chest preventing him of breathing. Grief. Anger. Fear above all else. Fear of failure. Of loss. All clawing at his heart from inside out. Only Amelia's arms holding him tighter kept Aaron stable as he fell apart. Sobbing uncontrollably for every life shortened left behind.

Amelia was a silent presence. Shifting her feet anxiously. That just made him feel even worse. To be dumping all that in someone's lap. It was just pathetic.

Still, she was there, and he was glad for it. Selfish, perhaps. Crying in the arms of a woman when others cried alone.

Aaron fought to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. He feels like throwing up. A mess of pain and scattered feelings bundled on clay and white sheets. Maybe he should just go back to sleep. Thinking felt like a shore right now.

"You must be hungry. Don't... don't push yourself. Please. I'll bring some food." Amelia left in quick steps.

Aaron was left to sulk alone in his own pain and failed duty. Adrenaline wore down with time. The weight of it all, wounds and feelings, pulling the world to a blank. The Squire never felt his head hit the pilow.