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Ralkar, whose name was now known, leaned forward, momentarily setting aside his usual calculated demeanor.

For the first time since the girl had woken up, a glimmer of genuine empathy crossed his face. His eyes softened slightly as they met hers.

—You're not dead —he said firmly, without a trace of mockery or irony—. What you've been through was… —his gaze briefly drifted, searching for the right words—, terrible, but you haven’t crossed to the other side.

The girl looked at him, still confused, slowly processing what he was saying.

But something in her expression suddenly changed. The confusion that had been the only thing on her face was replaced by pure terror. Her eyes widened, as if a dark memory had invaded her mind, taking hold of every fiber of her being.

—My… father —she whispered at first, as if the word itself were a dagger piercing her chest—. Where is my father?

Before Ralkar could respond, the girl, with feverish desperation, tried to get up from the bed. But her body was too weak, too fragile after the trauma she had endured. Halfway up, her legs gave out, and she fell heavily to the floor, unable to stand.

—Dad! —she screamed with a broken voice, her trembling hands trying to grasp the floor, scratching at the old wooden boards in a desperate attempt to hold onto something, anything.

Ralkar froze for a moment, watching as the girl futilely fought against her own fragility.

Her small body trembled, not just from physical exhaustion, but also from the overwhelming pain consuming her from within. Memories hit her like relentless waves: her father’s body, lifeless, drenched in blood, in that cold forest that now existed only as a prison in her mind.

—You promised! —she cried out between sobs, her voice torn apart by desperation—. You promised not to leave me! Don’t leave me, Dad!

Every word that left her mouth was like a knife stabbing into her own soul, and every scratch against the floor echoed the torment tearing her apart.

Ralkar watched in silence as the girl completely collapsed.

For a moment, the man, always so firm and calculated, felt something strange in his chest: a pang of empathy he hadn't expected.

"Too much," he thought, watching as the girl crumbled before him. "The pain... it's too much for her."

He knew there were no words that could calm the chaos taking over her mind. The traumas of such a young life could not be healed with empty promises or rational explanations.

Ralkar slowly closed his eyes. The scene before him was not new, not unique. It was just another repetition of a tragedy he had witnessed too many times, and each time, it dragged him back to that dark corner of his own history, to the wounds he had never managed to close.

Old ghosts danced before his mind, whispering forgotten names, memories he had buried deep. But now, those whispers returned with brutal clarity.

"It's the same... always the same."

Ralkar's eyes opened, this time with genuine compassion. The shadow of his usual irony and cynicism was overshadowed by sincere melancholy.

He stood up from the chair, his footsteps barely audible on the wooden floor. He knelt beside the girl, his broad, shadowy figure framing the small, shattered one.

Then, with a low, soft voice, as if not wanting to disturb her more than necessary, he whispered:

—I’m sorry... —he said in a tone imbued with a sincerity he rarely showed—. I don’t expect you to forgive me... I can’t even forgive myself.

The girl, lost in her own storm of pain, didn’t hear him. Her mind was somewhere else, a place where her father’s blood covered everything and the cold of the forest gripped her.

Ralkar knew his words wouldn’t reach her, but still, he let them escape, a pathetic attempt at redemption, even if only for himself.

His hand, which usually held weapons or cast spells, rose with unexpected gentleness. His fingers touched the girl’s head with a tenderness that contradicted everything he was.

The contact was light, barely perceptible, but something changed. The girl’s body, which had been wracked with sobs, began to calm. Little by little, the trembling ceased, and her breathing, once ragged and erratic, became steady.

He kept his hand on her head, feeling her calm down, as if his mere presence was enough to absorb some of her suffering.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The compassion that welled up in him was not feigned, and in that moment, his soul, so accustomed to darkness, filled with something almost forgotten: empathy.

Silence returned to the cabin, broken only by the soft sound of the wind entering through the window.

The girl’s body finally relaxed, her tears dried, and for the first time since she had fallen into that spiral of pain, she seemed to find something resembling peace.

Ralkar, still kneeling beside her, allowed a sigh to escape his lips, almost in a gesture of relief. But before the girl could open her eyes, he spoke in the same gruff voice, without the previous solemnity:

—Try not to throw up, kid.

For a second, the warning seemed to make no sense. But then, without warning, everything around her changed drastically.

A strange, oppressive sensation overtook her body, as if the air itself thickened around her. The floor beneath her hands seemed to vibrate, and suddenly, reality distorted.

Everything around her began to fragment: the walls of the cabin bent and twisted, as if they were made of smoke and broken mirrors. The colors dissolved in waves, blending and blurring into impossible shapes. It was as if the world had been crumpled by an invisible hand and then stretched again, but in the wrong way. The sounds distorted: the whispers of the wind became endless echoes, while the creaking of the wood beneath her feet felt like distant explosions.

Without understanding what was happening, she felt her body being shaken in all directions, as if dragged by an invisible current that made her stagger between this chaotic reality that seemed about to collapse and rebuild itself at the same time.

And then, everything stopped.

The stillness was so abrupt that it left the girl breathless.

She found herself on the cold floor of the cabin, though something in the atmosphere was different, heavier, as if the laws of the world had changed during that brief moment of chaos.

Ralkar, still kneeling beside her, watched her with a mixture of patience and resignation.

Suddenly, the girl grimaced. Something rumbled in her stomach, an uncomfortable sensation spread through her body, and Ralkar, who had seen this kind of reaction before, already knew what was coming.

—You feel it, don’t you? —Ralkar said, raising an eyebrow, as if all of this were terribly predictable—. I told you not to throw up, but no, here we go.

—I... —the girl tried to speak, but her face turned pale. She swallowed desperately, trying to hold back the inevitable.

Ralkar quickly stood up, taking a few steps back. —Don’t you dare do it on the rug —he growled, pointing to the only part of the floor that seemed even remotely clean.

—It’s not like I can control this! —the girl shouted between retches, kneeling again as she desperately tried to maintain her composure.

Finally, after one last effort to hold it in, her resistance broke. A terrible sound escaped her throat, and the contents of her stomach erupted uncontrollably onto the floor.

Ralkar watched in a mix of horror and resignation as the girl’s vomit ended up, partly, on his boots.

—Seriously? —he muttered, looking in disgust at his now ruined boots—. I warned you, didn’t I? "Try not to throw up," I said. But no! —he added, waving his hands as if that could dispel the stench—. Who listens to me, the great Ralkar? No one!

The girl, still dizzy and trembling, raised her head, her cheeks flushed from the effort and embarrassment.

—It’s not my fault —she whimpered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand—. You... you scared me.

Ralkar looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

—Me? —he scoffed, pointing at himself—. I scared you. Not the horrors of reality warping around you. No! Ralkar, the man who was just here, being incredibly sensible, is to blame for everything.

—Well, yeah! —the girl replied, crossing her arms with visible indignation—. You’re saying weird things, and you made me feel more... more dizzy.

Ralkar rolled his eyes and began unbuttoning his stained boots with a mix of disdain and frustration.

—Of course, because it’s in my nature to be... "weird." How ridiculous. —He gave her a sharp look before letting out an exaggerated sigh, as if he were the victim of great injustice.

He finally removed the second boot and threw it with exaggerated force into a corner of the cabin—. This is ridiculous. Here I am, saving the day, being the hero, and I end up... like this.

The girl looked at him with a mix of confusion and slight amusement, her discomfort already beginning to fade.

—You? Hero? —A small smile appeared on her face—. I thought heroes were... cleaner.

Ralkar stared at her intently, clearly trying not to smile, though his eyes gleamed with a touch of humor.

—Oh, really? Well, little critic of fine fashion, why don’t you stand up and play the heroine for a day? Let’s see if you end up smelling like roses and lavender.

The girl tried to stand up, but her legs were still trembling.

—I can’t… I’m weak, —she said, though there was a mischievous glint in her eyes—. Besides, it seems the hero got dirty all by himself.

Ralkar helped her sit back down with a gesture that, though mockingly rough, wasn’t without care.

Then he looked at her, leaning on his knees with a crooked smile.

—What you lack in strength, you make up for in wit, little one. If you ever need a job as a jester, you know where to find me.

The girl, now more relaxed and seeing the absurdity of the situation, let out a small laugh.

—Jester? That would be if you were the king. But you don’t seem more than a… hermit with bad taste in footwear.

Ralkar feigned an offended expression.

—My boots were the best I’ve ever had! Until…!

Before he could finish his sentence, a deep, terrifying sound rumbled through the entire cabin.

The walls began to tremble, as if some immense power had decided to crush them from the outside. Thin cracks started appearing in the wood, spreading like spiders across the walls, threatening to collapse the entire structure.

The girl clung to the edge of the bed, terrified, while her frail body trembled once again.

But Ralkar, barely showing a grimace of annoyance, remained still, watching as the place around them seemed on the verge of falling apart.

—What is it now? —he growled to himself with a weary sigh.

From the very cracks that ran through the walls, a guttural and furious voice emerged, one that belonged to no human, deep and reverberating, like the sound of rocks clashing in the depths of the earth.

—Who dares to profane the realm of Uldraxis, Lord of Eternal Shadows, undisputed sovereign of the Lost Realms? —The voice thundered, echoing like distant thunder, yet omnipresent.

The girl whimpered and, with trembling hands, covered her ears, trying in vain to shield herself from the deafening roar. But Ralkar barely flinched. His gaze simply lifted toward the ceiling with a mix of boredom and slight irritation.

—Who dares to disrespect the Great Uldraxis? — the voice continued, full of fury.

The walls began to twist, as if an invisible force was trying to tear them from their foundations.

—I demand to know who the insolent one is that has disturbed my realm with their despicable presence!