The days passed quietly, a stark contrast to the chaos that had marked my life just two weeks ago. The village nestled between the forest and the hills felt like a world apart from the burdens I carried. I threw myself into the rhythm of daily life, avoiding questions and deflecting curiosity with a simple, "I'm just passing through." Marei—as observant and sharp as she was—didn't pry, but I could see the questions in her eyes. Questions I wasn't ready to answer.

  The villagers accepted me cautiously at first. My hood stayed low, my words brief, but slowly, the quiet acts of help I offered seemed to soften their suspicions. I fixed broken fences, helped patch roofs, and carried heavy loads for those who couldn't. Marei insisted I was overdoing it, but the truth was, I needed to keep busy. When my hands were still, my mind wandered—and Damon's voice was quick to fill the silence.

  You're wasting your time here, he would whisper, his tone a mixture of amusement and derision. Helping these people won't change what you are.

  I ignored him. Most days, I was good at it. Some days, not so much.

  —

  One particular morning, Marei and I found ourselves at the village's small riverbank, hauling stones to reinforce the bridge after a recent flood. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine, and the sunlight dappled through the leaves above us. Marei worked with an efficiency that put me to shame, her sharp gaze flicking toward me every so often.

  "You know," she said after a while, straightening up and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand, "you're pretty good at this whole manual labor thing. Ever think about sticking around?"

  I paused, a large stone balanced precariously in my hands. "Sticking around?"

  She shrugged, leaning against a nearby tree. "Yeah. The village could use someone like you. You're handy, quiet, and you don't ask for much. Plus," she added with a smirk, "you don't seem like the type to complain."

  I set the stone down carefully, brushing dirt from my hands. "I don't think it's that simple."

  "Why not?" Marei asked, crossing her arms. "What's so complicated about finding a place to call home?"

  Her words caught me off guard, striking a chord I hadn't realized was still raw. I looked away, focusing on the steady flow of the river. "I just don't think it's something I can have anymore."

  Marei didn't push. She rarely did, but her silence was always deliberate, as if she were giving me space to fill it. When I didn't, she sighed and went back to work, her movements purposeful and unbothered.

  By the time we returned to the village, the sky had turned a soft orange, and the scent of cooking fires filled the air. The evening bustle was a comfort I hadn't expected to feel. Villagers chatted over shared meals, children played games near the well, and the air hummed with the kind of life I'd always felt separate from.

  "Luca!" a young boy, Marc, called out as Marei and I passed. I turned to see him waving, his grin wide and infectious. "Did you fix the cart?"

  I nodded. "Good as new. Just try not to overload it this time."

  He gave a mock-salute before darting back to his friends as Marei gave me a sidelong glance. "You're good with kids too. What's next, baking pies?"

  "Don't push your luck," I muttered, though I couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips.

  We reached the tavern shortly after, the familiar warmth of its interior a welcome reprieve from the cooling evening air. Marei motioned for me to sit as she fetched two bowls of stew from Roderick, the tavern keeper. When she returned, she set one in front of me and sat down across the table, her expression unusually serious.

  "You've been here a week now," she said, stirring her stew idly. "And I'm starting to think you're either the world's most boring traveler or you're hiding something big."

  I froze, the spoon halfway to my mouth. Marei's sharp gaze pinned me in place, and for a moment, I considered telling her. Not everything, but enough. Enough to explain why I couldn't stay, why I couldn't let myself get comfortable here.

  Instead, I set the spoon down and met her gaze. "Maybe I just don't like talking about myself."

  Her lips twitched into a faint smile. "Fair enough. But for what it's worth, you don't have to keep everything to yourself. We’re a family here."

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Family. The word hit harder than it should have. I forced a nod, hoping she wouldn't press further. Thankfully, she didn't.

  —

  The days in Draemoor began to blur together, each one marked by the same quiet routines. Yet, beneath the surface of that calm, I felt the growing weight of my own presence here. It was only a matter of time before the past I had buried would claw its way back into the light. For now, though, I focused on the tasks at hand.

  Morning came with a crisp chill in the air, the kind that made your breath visible and the fields glisten with dew. I had agreed to help Johan repair his barn today. The structure had seen better days, its roof sagging under years of weather and neglect. By the time I arrived, Marei was already there, sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back in a messy braid.

  "You're late," she teased as I approached, hands on her hips. "Starting to lose your touch, farmhand."

  I rolled my eyes, brushing past her to inspect the tools laid out. "You've been here long enough to get started without me. What's your excuse?"

  Marei's grin widened. "Thought I'd wait and see if you'd actually show up. Johan bet you'd skip out."

  "Glad to know I'm inspiring so much faith," I muttered, grabbing a hammer. Marei's laugh followed me as we got to work.

  The barn's repairs were straightforward, though tedious. As we worked, Marei filled the silence with stories of her childhood, the kind of light-hearted memories I'd long since forgotten how to share. Her laughter was infectious, and I found myself smiling more often than I expected.

  "You ever think about what you'd do if you weren't traveling?" Marei asked suddenly, breaking the rhythm of our hammering. She was perched on a ladder, holding a plank in place while I secured it.

  I paused, considering her question. "Not really. I've only been moving for a few weeks, so it's still all new to me."

  Marei's gaze lingered on me, sharp and curious. "That's not an answer."

  "It's the best I've got," I said, avoiding her eyes. The truth was, I didn't let myself think about the future. The weight of everything I carried left little room for dreams or plans.

  Marei didn't press, though her silence spoke volumes. She climbed down from the ladder, dusting her hands off and giving me a look I couldn't quite decipher.

  By midday, the barn's roof was patched, and the sunlight streamed through the gaps we hadn't gotten to yet. Johan brought out a pitcher of water and some bread, his gruff demeanor softening as he muttered a gruff, "Thanks for the help."

  Marei grinned, leaning against a beam. "You're welcome. Don't forget to mention who did most of the work."

  Johan huffed, though there was a hint of a smile beneath his grumbling. I finished the last of the water and straightened, stretching my arms. "Anything else you need while we're here?"

  "Not today," Johan said, shaking his head. "You two have done more than enough."

  Marei gave him a mock salute, and we made our way back toward the village square. As we reached the edge of the square, Marei stopped abruptly, turning to face me.

  "You know," she began, her tone serious for once, "people here really do trust you. Even Johan, and he's about as friendly as a bear in winter."

  "Not sure why," I said, my voice low. "I'm just a stranger."

  Marei's eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were trying to read something written on my face. "You're more than that, Luca. Maybe you don't see it, but they do. I do."

  Her words caught me off guard, and I didn't know how to respond. Before I could say anything, she waved me off, her grin returning. "Anyway, don't let it go to your head. Come on, let's grab something to eat."

  I followed her to the tavern, her words lingering in my mind.

  —

  The sun hung low in the sky as Draemoor settled into its usual evening rhythm. Villagers packed away their tools and gathered near the square, chatting over the day's work. Marei and I had spent most of the day helping Johan haul grain sacks from the mill. My arms ached from the effort, and I longed for the quiet of my room. But Marei had other plans.

  "Come on," she said, nudging my shoulder as we walked back toward the tavern. "We've earned a little time to relax. Let's sit by the river for a bit."

  "I'm fine," I muttered, pulling my hood tighter. The fabric felt like a second layer of skin by this point. The only time I ever removed it was in the comfort of my room at the Tavern.

  "Luca," Marei said, exasperation lacing her voice. "You've been hiding in the shadows since you got here. A little fresh air won't kill you. Come on."

  Before I could argue, she grabbed my arm and steered me toward the edge of the village. The path to the river was quiet, lined with tall grass that swayed in the evening breeze. The sound of running water grew louder as we walked, mingling with the faint chirping of crickets. By the time we reached the bank, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.

  Marei plopped down on a smooth rock near the water's edge, motioning for me to sit beside her. Reluctantly, I did, keeping my hood firmly in place. She leaned back on her hands, her gaze fixed on the rippling water.

  "You know," she began, her tone softer now, "I don't get you. You're helpful, hardworking, and the kids in the village practically idolize you. But it's like you're carrying this invisible weight, and you won't let anyone help you with it."

  I didn't respond, my eyes focused on the river. The current reminded me of the flames that had erupted from my body in Valtara—relentless, consuming, unstoppable.

  "Luca," Marei said after a moment, her voice gentle but insistent. "Why do you hide your face?"

  The question hung in the air, heavy and unavoidable. I felt her eyes on me, searching for an answer I wasn't ready to give. "It's better this way," I said finally, my voice low.

  "Better for who?" she pressed. "The villagers already trust you. You've done nothing but help since you got here. What are you so afraid of?"

  The words caught in my throat. If she knew—if any of them knew—what I really was, or what I carried inside me, that trust would vanish in an instant. They'd look at me the way the masses in Valtara had: with fear and hatred.

  "It doesn't matter," I said, rising to my feet. "I should go."

  Marei stood quickly, grabbing my arm before I could turn away. "Wait. I didn't mean to..." Her voice faltered, and she let out a frustrated sigh. "I just want to understand you, Luca."

  The earnestness in her voice stopped me. I looked down at her, her dark eyes pleading with me. And then, before I could stop her, she reached for my hood.

  "Don't—" I began, but it was too late. The fabric slipped back, and the cool evening air brushed against my face. Marei froze, her gaze locking onto mine.

  Her eyes widened as they took in the bright red irises that marked me as something demonic. I expected her to flinch, to recoil in fear or disgust. But... she didn't.

  "Your eyes," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're... beautiful."

  The words startled me. Of all the things I'd expected, that wasn't one of them. "You don't... you're not afraid?" I asked, my voice trembling.

  Marei's expression softened, and she shook her head. "Why would I be? They're just eyes, Luca. They don't change who you are."

  "You don't understand," I said, taking a step back. "If people knew what these eyes meant... what I am..."

  "Then you'll tell me when you're ready," she said firmly, cutting me off. "But whatever it is, it doesn't change the fact that you've been kind and selfless since the moment you came here. That's who you are, Luca. Not whatever you think these eyes mean."

  Her words hit me like a wave, breaking through the walls I'd worked so hard to put up. Tears began to well up in my eyes. "Thank you," I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't enough to express the gratitude that had built up in my chest, but it was all I could manage.

  Marei smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made my tears begin to fall. "Anytime, farmhand."

  We stood there for a moment longer, the river's gentle song filling the silence between us.