A Stranger in the Woods

Elian didn't tell Rye where he was going.

The forest ahead was dense, darker than the rest. Old trees with twisted roots and vines choked the sky above, blocking the moonlight. The others were still at camp, talking about their next move, maybe resting. But Elian had something else on his mind.

He clutched the blue emerald tightly in his hand as he stepped deeper into the woods. The glow was faint tonight, like it was unsure whether to shine or fade. He needed to know if his connection to it was still holding, if the bond was weakening… or changing.

The deeper he walked, the quieter it got. Even the crickets fell silent, like something was watching.

He reached an old fig tree that looked like it had been standing for centuries. Its roots curled out like claws. He stood in front of it, took a breath, and placed the emerald on the dirt. He knelt beside it and began whispering softly, the words sliding from his lips in the Nytherian magical tongue. A forgotten language, filled with sharp edges and soft cracks.

But halfway through the third phrase, he stopped.

There was a sound. A shift of weight on dry leaves. Too smooth for an animal. Too slow for a beast.

He stayed still, his body tensed. Eyes narrowed. His hand slid carefully to the small pocket knife inside his coat. The blade was tiny, curved, and coated with a venom that didn't kill, but could freeze a magical being's nerves for hours.

He stood and stepped around the tree slowly, quiet as possible, listening. Then suddenly, nothing. The woods were still again.

He turned.

Behind him.

A shadow moved.

In a split second, Elian spun around, grabbed the figure's robe and slammed him against the tree. The man barely made a sound, caught completely off guard. The knife pressed against the side of his neck, just hard enough to sting.

But then Elian saw his face.

The dim glow from the emerald bounced off the stranger's skin. Young, maybe in his twenties… but his eyes, they held something older. Tired. Familiar.

Elian stared, confused. This face, he knew it from somewhere. Not from camp, not from the woods… no.

He blinked.

Then it hit him.

One of the pods. Back in Nytherion. He'd seen this same face frozen behind glass, sealed in magic, unmoving but alive.

The knife dropped from his fingers. His grip loosened.

"You… You were in the chamber," Elian said, breathless.

The man didn't speak. His expression was calm, maybe confused too, but he didn't fight back.

Elian stepped back a little. "Rye's brother… Ryan?"

The name left his mouth like it had been there all along, waiting.

The man flinched slightly at the name. Just a twitch, but enough.

Elian's heart slammed in his chest.

How?

This wasn't possible. That pod had been sealed. The locks were complex, layers of Nytherian runes. No one had ever escaped.

And yet, here he was.

Ryan.

Alive.

Standing in the woods.

•••

Elian didn't say much on the way back. His eyes kept flicking between the man walking quietly beside him and the flicker of light still pulsing in the emerald he held. Ryan walked like he knew where he was going, even though he hadn't spoken a word yet. He was calm, too calm for someone just released from stasis.

The campfire crackled up ahead.

Rye sat near it, legs crossed, staring at the flames like she was thinking of everything all at once. She heard footsteps and turned.

Elian stepped through first, then Ryan.

Her heart skipped.

Her eyes locked on the stranger for just a second, and then the totem on her wrist burned hot. She gasped and looked down.

The band, the one her father gave her when she was a kid, pulsed with a soft purple light. It was never like this before. It always just sat there, quiet and old, something she barely remembered to wear.

But now, it glowed like it was alive.

Then her mind cracked open.

A memory, faint but sharp, hit her all at once.

She saw herself small, maybe five, running across a field of tall grass. A boy beside her, laughing, holding her hand. They tumbled and rolled. He called her name. She called his.

"Ryan?"

Her lips moved before she could stop it.

She stood slowly. Her chest ached, like something had just unwrapped inside her heart. She walked forward in a daze, like sleepwalking, then broke into a run.

She threw her arms around him.

Ryan didn't flinch. His arms closed around her too.

The totem flashed again.

Another memory struck. Him giving her a wooden toy he carved. Them hiding from the rain. A promise whispered in the dark, "I'll always protect you."

But that was it. Nothing else came after.

She pulled back, her hands still on his shoulders. "Why don't I remember anything else?"

Ryan didn't answer. His expression held something distant, maybe pain.

Then it happened.

The space around them cracked.

A spiral of glowing symbols shimmered mid-air, twisting into a swirling portal, flickering between forms like it couldn't decide what it wanted to be. Out of it stepped a Seeker.

Same black robes. Same grey skin. But this one was taller, sharper, and its eyes didn't blink.

Elian moved fast, pulled the emerald up and aimed it at the Seeker. "Back away," he growled.

Nothing.

The blue light stayed dim.

The Seeker stepped forward, calm, as if the emerald wasn't even there.

"No," Elian whispered. "No, why isn't it working?"

Rye backed away, hand brushing the hilt of her sword. Her heart screamed at her to draw it, to fight. But another part of her pulled back. The memory of how cold she felt last time, how blank her thoughts went. She couldn't risk forgetting Ryan again. Not now. Not right after finding him.

"Elian…" she said. "We can't fight. We need to run."

Ryan stepped forward, planting himself between the Seeker and the rest of the group.

He didn't hesitate.

The Seeker raised its hand, black mist curling like fingers of smoke into a claw.

Ryan moved.

He lunged low, ducking the first arc of magic, and closed the distance in a blur. His fist slammed into the Seeker's chest — it was like punching solid stone. But the impact knocked the creature back a step.

The forest lit up with motion.

Rye unsheathed her sword, the steel gleaming dull in the moonlight. It didn't glow, but it didn't matter now. She followed Ryan's lead and charged, slashing low at the Seeker's leg.

The blade connected. A deep gash opened, but instead of blood, a dark, tar-like vapor spilled out.

The Seeker shrieked. Not with pain — with rage.

It lashed out.

Ryan grabbed Rye and yanked her back just in time as a blast of black energy struck the ground, turning the soil to glass.

"Elian, now!" Ryan barked.

Elian lifted the emerald and flung out a wave of light. The Seeker flinched. Threads of blue coiled from the gem like chains, catching the Seeker's shoulder and burning through its robe.

Maeron took that opening. He ran forward and drove both blades into its back with a growl. "Stay down!"

But the Seeker twisted, spine snapping unnaturally. It grabbed Maeron and flung him across the clearing.

"Maeron!" Rye shouted.

"I'm—fine!" he grunted, trying to get up.

Jor had already drawn another arrow. He whispered something under his breath — a small spell — and the arrow lit with silver flame. He let it fly.

The shot struck the Seeker in the side of the neck. Smoke billowed from the wound.

Eris, already flanking, hurled two throwing knives. Both embedded in its thigh. The Seeker staggered.

Ryan didn't let up.

He grabbed a fallen branch, sharpened at the tip, and rammed it straight into the Seeker's abdomen. The creature screamed, a sound like glass shattering underwater. Its form began to flicker, as if it were phasing between worlds.

"Elian!" Ryan yelled again. "That gem! Hit it with everything!"

"I don't—know how much more it has!" Elian shouted back, but gritted his teeth. He held the emerald up with both hands. "Just don't let it move!"

The rest of them jumped in.

Maeron, recovered, slashed upward while Jor and Eris attacked in tandem. Knives, arrows, and blade met flesh — or what passed for it.

Rye's sword began to hum. It still didn't glow, but it felt heavier, like it finally wanted to be used.

She stepped in close and slashed down the center of the Seeker's chest.

It roared.

That was the moment.

Elian's gem burst with a flash of blue. Threads of light shot forward, wrapping around the Seeker's limbs, holding it in place.

"Now!" Elian cried.

Ryan, covered in ash and sweat, stepped forward, gripped the shard of wood he'd driven into its gut, and twisted hard.

The Seeker froze.

Then cracked.

It shattered from the inside out — like a mirror collapsing into dust. The red lines in the air vanished. The smell of iron and ozone hung thick in the forest.

Silence.

Then breathing.

Heavy, human breathing.

Everyone stood where they were, chests heaving, eyes wide.

Maeron's sword lowered first. "Is… is it dead?"

Jor poked the black dust with his foot. "Looks like it."

Eris looked at Ryan. "You've got good instincts, for someone who just woke up from stasis."

Ryan shrugged slightly. "Didn't want it killing any of you."

Rye stared at him. Her heart still pounded. The totem on her wrist was dim again, but something in her had shifted. The way Ryan fought. The way he commanded. Like it wasn't his first time. Like he'd done this before.

Like he knew how they moved.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" she asked.

Ryan paused. "I… don't remember."

Which was a lie.

But a good one.

For now, the group accepted it.

They had more questions than answers — but in this moment, he had bought something far more valuable than their praise.

He had bought their trust.