Deep in the forest, the sunlight was dimming. What little light pierced the suffocating canopy came through in weak, bruised streaks, bathing the undergrowth in murky twilight.
Several orcs lumbered between the large trunks, their guttural calls rumbling like the growls of hunting beasts.
Nearby, pressed flat in a shallow, moss-slicked depression beside a roaring waterfall, Lilly lay perfectly still, her face half-buried in the damp ground, her wide eyes reflecting the silver churn of the cascading water through a small opening.
For what felt like minutes, she held her breath until her lungs burned, her ears fighting to separate the orcs' brutish voices from the roar of the waterfall. Violent shivers wracked her small frame—bone-deep, paralyzing terror and two days of hunger colliding at once.
Every inch of her body ached. The raw scrapes on her elbows and knees pulsed with angry fire from the rocks she had crawled over.
The minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Slowly, the guttural voices of the orcs faded, swallowed by the dense forest and the relentless roar of the waterfall.
Now. The word was a silent command to her failing limbs. She dragged herself out of the hole, each movement sending fresh spikes of pain through her torn, mud-caked skin. She rose just high enough for her eyes to clear the damp ferns, her gaze darting into the creeping darkness.
Nothing moved. The forest returned to its uneasy peace. Without hesitation she bolted west, always west. It was the only direction she had allowed herself to believe in since the moment she slipped away from them.
For minutes she ran through the undergrowth, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her body begging her to rest—but the thought of the border kept her feet moving. The edge of the forest had to be close now. It had to be. He'll be there, she told herself. A mantra against the encroaching night. Brother will be waiting for me.
She didn't look back. She couldn't. If she looked back, she might see how far she still had to go, or how close the monsters were following.
After what felt like an eternity of suffocating forest air, a sudden, sharp wind washed over her. It carried the unmistakable scent of woodsmoke and livestock—the smell of the village.
As she broke through the treeline, her gaze locked onto a cluster of distant yellow dots flickering at the village gate: torches. She took a single, instinctive step toward the light, her heart leaping with a desperate urge for safety. Then, she halted.
The memory hit her like a physical blow—the callous hands of the men who had bound her, the cold indifference in their eyes as they carried her toward the orc settlement. Returning through the front gate wasn't a homecoming; it was a surrender.
Lilly wrenched her eyes away from the light, her gaze drifting toward the shadowed stretch of the western wall. She pivoted and ran, her movements low and frantic. The night seemed to reach out and take her, her small frame swallowed by the ink-black gloom. Not even the pale moonlight could find her now.
•••
At the same time, Aris was collapsed onto the straw bed, the dry stalks rustling beneath him like dead leaves. Beside him sat a loaf of brown bread—the physical remains of his last two copper coins. Near his ankle, a clay cup of water trembled with every heavy thud of his heart, catching the flickering orange glow of candlelight embedded in the wooden walls.
He was starving. His stomach ached. But the sheer weight of his reality had stripped him of his appetite.
His mind raced in a desperate, frantic circle. Should I run? The thought died as soon as it formed. Rill's memories were a blank map beyond the village perimeter, the outermost forest, and the farm behind the village. Seventeen years of life had been confined to these few hectares of dirt and fear.
There were no maps or charts of the surrounding terrain. Such things didn't exist in the village—or, more likely, weren't permitted by a chief who ruled through isolation. Or perhaps the true masters indeed kept them as a ranch, and a sheep has no need for a map.
I can't fight. I can't run.Even if he slipped past the village walls, he would be like a blind man wandering into a predator's den. The forest was a labyrinth of shadows. Danger was everywhere.
He rubbed his forehead. His skin was clammy with cold sweat. Is this it? he thought, his gaze fixed on the trembling water in the cup. Am I truly forced to hunt down a terrified girl in that endless forest just for a slim chance of surviving to see another sunrise?
Thud!
The sound broke the silence of the night—a small impact unnaturally loud in the stagnant village air. Aris looked up, his eyes darting toward the door, then slowly returned to his thoughts.
Thud!
Another one. He didn't give it a second thought. Perhaps a stray animal. Or the settling of the village's aging timber.
But after two more persistent strikes, he rose. His joints felt stiff, heavy with the day's dread. He stepped outside, and the biting night air instantly cut through his vest. By the pale silver light of the moon, his gaze landed on four small stones scattered across the ground.
He waited, his breath hitching in his throat. The silence returned. He shivered, deciding the cold was a greater threat than the mystery, and turned to retreat into the meager warmth of his house.
Before he could take a step, a fifth stone arched over the perimeter wall and clattered onto the ground.
Aris snapped toward the wall, his pulse hammering. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice a low, cautious rasp as he closed the distance.
As he neared the wall, he heard it—a faint, muffled whimpering from the other side. When he stood a meter from the wood, the sound sharpened into a desperate, broken sob.
"Brother… Brother Rill."
"Lilly?"
As the realization took hold, a tide of conflicting emotions crashed over him. There was Rill's relief at seeing her alive, tangled with a suffocating guilt for failing to protect her. But beneath those borrowed memories, Aris's own cold logic bled through, shocking him into momentary, icy stillness.
I'm saved. The girl walked right back into my hands.
He suppressed the shiver of shame that followed and leaned his forehead against the wall. "Lilly," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Brother is here."
On the other side, the dam finally broke. Lilly let out a jagged, broken sob, tears carving tracks through the grime on her face—tears she hadn't allowed herself during two days of predatory pursuit.
"You remember where you used to play with the others?" Aris asked, his eyes scanning the three-meter barrier. Scaling it with her in her weakened state was impossible.
"Yes… brother," she breathed, her voice paper-thin and trembling.
"Good. Go to the other side. Stay in the shadows. Do not let a single person see you."
Aris retreated into the house, his movements frantic but precise. He seized several of his dead wife's clothes, tearing the coarse fabric into strips and knotting them into a makeshift rope. He yanked the knots, testing their strength against his own weight, then slipped back into the night. He hugged the wall, his silhouette swallowed by its shadow.
When he reached the designated spot, he scaled the wall with the practiced ease of a youth raised on hard labor. At the top, he looked down. His breath hitched. Lilly looked like a broken doll in the moonlight—a small, shivering frame huddled against the base of the wood.
A sharp pang of genuine ache pierced his chest. Not now, he commanded his heart. Focus.
He lowered the rope. "Grab it, Lilly. Tie it around your waist. Double the knot."
He watched her numb fingers obey, then began to haul. Thanks to years of grueling farm work and her small weight, he winched her upward. When his hand finally found her arm and pulled her over the ledge, his skin grew cold where it touched the thick, damp mud caking her limbs.
He climbed down with her draped over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Without a glance behind him, he moved toward the house, feeling the frantic, rhythmic shiver of her body against his back with every step.
Moments later, they reached the house. They slipped through the door, the heavy silence of the village undisturbed by their passage.
Aris lowered Lilly onto the straw bed with a gentleness that surprised even him. He gathered every spare scrap of clothing in the house—worn tunics, rough burlap, even an untied rope—and piled them over her, desperate to stifle the violent shivering that racked her body.
Then he pressed the loaf of brown bread and the clay cup of water into her trembling hands. She ate with a frantic, primal hunger. The bread and water vanished in seconds, though he knew it was not enough.
But as a flicker of life returned to her dull eyes, Aris found himself smiling. It was a soft, unbidden expression that didn't belong to him. Without thinking, he reached out and stroked her mud-matted black hair, his fingers lingering on the tangles for a heartbeat.
Then he snapped his hand back as if burned.
He straightened his posture, his voice sliding into a distant, neutral tone. "Rest for now. We will talk when the sun rises."
"Hmm," she murmured, a faint nod of her head the only strength she had left. Within seconds, exhaustion claimed her, and she collapsed into sleep.
Aris stood over her, his shadow stretching long and dark across the straw bed. He remained perfectly still as a brutal war raged inside his mind, cold logic clashing against an unwelcome, growing empathy.
Hand her over tomorrow, the survivalist part of him whispered, and you live. One life for yours. A simple transaction.
No, countered the lingering echo of Rill's soul. If you do that, you become what you despised. She is the only family this body has left. Betray her, and you'll drown in a darkness you can never claw your way out of.
She is not your sister, the analytical voice snapped, sharp and merciless. She belongs to this body. You already proved what kind of monster you are in your last life by killing thousands. You ended your entire race future, for ambition and greed. Don't pretend you've suddenly grown a conscience.
He began to pace silently across the dirt floor, his eyes never leaving Lilly's sleeping form.
A third voice rose, heavier, weighted with the fate of a doomed species. Sacrificing her is the first step down the same path that destroyed everything. If you start compromising here, where does it end? How many more fall after her?
But how will the mission survive if you're dead? the survivalist roared.A corpse saves no one. Martyrs are just fools who failed.
The room suddenly felt suffocating—thick with the scent of damp earth, stale sweat, and old guilt. Aris walked to the doorway and stopped, staring out into the night. Pale moonlight washed over him, cold and indifferent, while the breeze brushed against his skin.
Aris's gaze swept across the sleeping village. The houses were nothing more than dark silhouettes against the starry sky. Silent streets. Inside, hundreds of people slept—their lives bought for another year at the cost of one small girl.
"Is one person truly worth the lives of thousands?" The question hung in the air, cold and demanding.
He caught the spiral before it could drag him down again. He took a long, slow breath, forcing the biological surge of adrenaline to subside. He needed to approach this grim dilemma from a point of pure, cold reason. The most logical path remained surrendering her—but something in him wanted to find a better way.
He paused, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the distant, larger shadow of the chief's residence.
"Maybe the breakthrough isn't in her," he mumbled to the wind. "Maybe it's in him."
He checked the position of the moon. Still far from dawn. The village was at its quietest, but the air remained thick with the lingering tension of the day.
He turned his internal focus to the biochip's interface.
"Prime," he commanded silently. "Optimize the collected data. Refine the phonetic structures into a functional lexicon. I need to speak their tongue, not just hear it."
The chip responded with a sharp chime that resonated in the back of his skull.
[Optimization Initialized...]
[Calculating linguistic variance... Cross-referencing 21% dataset...]
[Estimated Time Remaining: 3 hours for the current volume]
"Three hours," Aris mumbled, the blue light of the interface fading from his retinas. "It's enough."