Chapter 13: A Faint Light in the Dark

A sharp, stinging sensation cut through the darkness.

It wasn't unbearable, but it was enough to prod at Xhaelyn's dulled senses, dragging her toward consciousness. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and lingering pain. Something warm pressed against her skin—damp, carrying the faint scent of herbs.

Her instincts sharpened.

The air smelled of stone and oil, the kind used in lanterns. The surface beneath her wasn't the hard, jolting wagon she remembered but a bed—firm, yet too clean for a place that dealt in stolen people.

There was someone beside her.

A soft rustle. Cloth against skin. A barely audible sigh, followed by the careful dab of fabric on her arm. The scent of another person lingered nearby—subtle but distinct, carrying traces of sweat, dust, and something vaguely metallic.

Her eyes fluttered open.

A dim, flickering light cast shifting shadows along the stone walls. The room was small but eerily well-kept, with multiple beds neatly arranged against the walls. The door was closed. Secure.

Her gaze snapped to the figure beside her.

A boy—older than her, maybe nine—sat cross-legged on the bed, a cloth in one hand and a small bowl of water in the other. His chestnut-brown hair was short but messy, as if he hadn't bothered to fix it. His sharp green eyes, observant yet oddly relaxed, met hers without hesitation.

"Oh, hey," he said, blinking. "You're up."

His tone was casual, as if they weren't in the middle of a human trafficking hideout.

Xhaelyn tensed, but he didn't react. Instead, he leaned back slightly, tapping the edge of the bowl. "You were out for a while. Thought you might've died, but nah, just unconscious. Guess that's a good thing?"

She took in his appearance—his clothes were slightly worn but clean, with no visible injuries. His easy, almost detached expression didn't match their situation. He wasn't tense, but he wasn't careless either. His posture was too deliberately casual.

She shifted, testing the aches in her body. "Where are we?"

The boy tilted his head. "You don't know?" He let out a short breath, not quite a laugh. "Expected. They don't exactly give a welcome speech."

He set the bowl aside, resting his arms on his knees. "We're in the 'premium storage' section of their hideout in City A. Fancy name for the 'don't damage the goods' room." His lips quirked in a dry, humorless smirk. "Congratulations, you're high-quality merchandise."

Xhaelyn raised a brow.

The boy noticed but didn't comment. Instead, he shrugged. "I've been here longer than you. Long enough to figure out how things run."

She studied him. His words were light, almost playful, but there was a sharpness beneath them. He wasn't broken. He wasn't resigned.

He was waiting.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked.

The boy raised a brow. "Because watching someone bleed out isn't exactly entertaining."

Xhaelyn narrowed her eyes slightly.

He huffed. "Look, I don't do charity, alright? But if you die, that's one less person who might cause trouble later." He smirked, resting his chin on his palm. "And something tells me you're the troublemaking type."

She didn't deny it.

He grinned. "Knew it."

For a moment, silence settled between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, there was an odd sense of understanding.

"…Name?" she asked.

He exhaled through his nose, then leaned back with a lazy stretch. He paused for a moment. "Zeritheus."

A simple answer, but not careless.

Xhaelyn nodded slightly. The name tugged at something in her mind, an itch just out of reach. She had read it somewhere before. Familiar, yet distant. But thinking was exhausting, and she let the thought slip away for now.

Zeritheus smirked again, tilting his head. "And you?"

She hesitated. Then, quietly, she answered.

"Xhaelyn."

Zeritheus' gaze flickered with interest, but he didn't press. Instead, he grinned. "Well, Xhaelyn, welcome to the worst place you'll ever be in. Try not to die too soon, yeah?"

Xhaelyn exhaled slowly. Despite everything, a strange sense of clarity settled over her. She wasn't alone.

She glanced at the boy, a hint of mockery in her tone. "Worst place, huh?"

Zeritheus caught the slight edge in her voice. Amused, he lifted his gaze to meet hers.

Then, he stilled.

Her eyes—dark red—were distant yet unfathomably deep. Not the vague emptiness of someone who had suffered, nor the bitterness of someone hardened by cruelty.

It was depth. A depth so vast and consuming that, for a moment, it made Zeritheus question everything. The grievances he had carried, the suffering he thought unbearable—compared to whatever lay behind Xhaelyn's gaze, his own pain felt… small.

Unknown to him, Xhaelyn was no longer present in that moment.

She was being pulled—dragged into the depths of her memories.

Her First Life.

The chains dug into her wrists, rusted metal biting deep into raw skin. The air was thick with rot and sweat, a suffocating blend of unwashed bodies and something far worse—something decayed.

She had learned not to scream. Not anymore.

A hand gripped her chin, forcing her head up. The man's breath was rancid, his fingers digging into her bruised jaw. She met his gaze, her own eyes dull, empty.

His smirk widened, and then—

"Xhaelyn."

A firm, familiar voice cut through the haze. A pull, distant but insistent.

She was yanked back to the present, her breath sharp and controlled, her fingers flexing subtly against the sheets. The room was quiet. No chains. No stench of rot. No screams.

Only Zeritheus, watching her with an unreadable expression.

His smirk was gone.

"Xhaelyn," he repeated, his tone firmer this time.

Xhaelyn exhaled. Her mind drifted again, but she was certain—she wasn't traumatized by that experience. In that world, it had been normal. Why am I even dwelling on it? She sighed, clenching her fist briefly before loosening it.

Zeritheus' smirk returned. "Starstruck? I'm handsome indeed."

Xhaelyn's eye twitched. "Right. That must be why they kidnapped you too." Her expression remained deadpan.

Zeritheus grinned. "Exactly. I'm a high-value catch, obviously."

She hummed but didn't miss the way his eyes flickered, gauging her reaction. He talks a lot, but he's always watching. Measuring.

Useful.

Zeritheus studied her, then sighed dramatically. "You're one of those types, huh?" He flopped onto his back. "Every kid who's tried to escape either gets caught or disappears."

Xhaelyn met his gaze, quiet but firm. "I don't plan on staying."

If the situation were in her control, she wouldn't mind staying a while and lazing around.

Zeritheus grinned. "I like it."

For the first time since waking up in this place, Xhaelyn felt something shift. A faint flicker in the darkness—small, but steady.

Zeritheus exhaled, his sly smile returning. "Alright, Xhaelyn. You wanna get out of here? Let's cause some trouble."

"Tell me the plan. Quickly."