"May I ask why this child is being beaten so severely?" the figure asked again, his voice calm amidst the violence.
Imdiately, all three n halted their assault and looked in his direction.
While I could not see the face of the man who had stepped in, I was grateful for the few seconds of respite from the pain.
My skin was so bruised that even the smallest intake of breath made wince.
As expected, Krell was the first to react. He pointed his dagger—still stained with the blood of his catch—straight at the hooded man.
"Who the hell do you think you are to walk in on my property? Do you have a death wish?"
With the little strength I had left, I managed to look up at the stranger.
A stray beam of moonlight cut under his hood, and for a fleeting mont, I saw his face.
It was perfectly crafted, like a statue brought to life.
Despite the fact that a weapon was pointed directly at his heart, he looked at with a gentle smile, as if trying to reassure .
I knew if he stayed there any longer, he was going to die.
Because of , Krell would kill him. Or worse, make him a slave and trade him just like they intended to do to .
If I am going to die... and if this is the last chance I have to do sothing good... then I must try.
I managed to part my swollen lips.
"R-run."
It was low, so faint that even I could barely hear my own voice.
A single tear dropped from my cheek. It was hopeless. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t do even one nice thing in this wretched life.
"Why would I run? Do you want to stay with these n?" the figure suddenly asked , completely ignoring the three angry brothers standing dangerously close to him.
My eyes widened in shock.
He heard .
"Run," I whispered again, putting every ounce of my will into the word. If he heard the first ti, surely he could hear now.
"Who the hell are you talking to? Do you want to pick a fight with us, huh?" Balin barked, pulling out a club and moving to flank the loneso stranger.
The figure turned to Balin, then swept his gaze over the others.
"You weep," the figure uttered, his voice taking on a somber tone. "Your brother is dead. That truly hurts . If you promise to let the girl go, then I shall bring him back to life. Is that a fair trade?"
The brothers stood frozen, exchanging skeptical, fearful glances. They weren’t sure whether to trust the words of a madman in the woods. Even I had my doubts—dead was dead.
"You’re lying," Krell spat. "But if you can do it... take the witch. We don’t want her."
The hooded man nodded. He walked past their weapons without a hint of fear, knelt beside Feyn’s shriveled corpse, and placed a glowing hand on the dead man’s face.
GASP!
Feyn’s eyes shot open, his chest heaving as air rushed back into his lungs. The grey color of his skin flushed back to a healthy tan in seconds.
Shocked and terrified, the brothers scrambled back, muttering prayers and curses. They didn’t even look at anymore. They just wanted us gone.
True to his word, the hooded man walked over and scooped up into his arms. He seed to know instinctively that my leg was still healing, holding in a way that caused no pain.
We left the brothers behind, heading north toward the deeper, abandoned parts of the forest.
I never said a word. I just let him carry to his destination. After all, I knew nothing of the outside world, and this man had just perford a miracle to save .
Eventually, we arrived at a massive oak tree. High up in its branches sat a beautifully constructed treehouse. He carried up and placed gently on a small bed made of soft hay and foam.
He sat down on the floor across from , watching for a while with kind eyes.
"What is your na?" he asked.
"My na is Ravina," I replied, my voice raspy.
He smiled. "That is such a beautiful na. This human world sure has a way with nas, don’t they? Oh, right—it’s bad manners not to introduce myself first. I’m sorry."
The man reached up and pulled back his hood, fully revealing his face.
He was handso in a way that felt otherworldly. His long, dark hair flowed over his shoulders and down his chest—if I had to guess, his hair was even longer than mine.
Pointing a thumb at himself, he grinned.
"My na is Jacob. Cool na, right? Hehe. My friend gave that na. She said the strongest warrior who ever lived in a book she read had the exact sa na."
He didn’t stop there.
He went on to tell stories of this "Jacob" from the book—how he fought demons, won wars for his kingdom, and protected the innocent.
To be honest, it felt like I was listening to soone my own age. Despite his power, he spoke with the excitent of a child.
It made calm. For the first ti in my life, I felt sowhat happy.
We spoke for hours. I told him how I ended up in the hands of the brothers, omitting the details of my curse for fear he would leave.
In return, he told he was from a faraway land and that he had run away because he’d had a fight with his friend. Now, he was lost.
Before we knew it, night had truly fallen, and our stomachs rumbled.
"What do you want to eat?" he asked dearly.
I thought about it for a while. I hadn’t had a proper al in my life.
"at," I replied softly.
Before my very eyes, Mister Jacob spread open his palm over a wooden plate.
A shimring light appeared, and suddenly, multiple layers of cooked, steaming at materialized out of thin air.
I stared at the plate, stunned.
But then again, I had already seen him bring a man back from the dead. As much as I wanted to ask how or what he was, I feared the answer.
What if this was all a dream? What if I was dying in that clearing, beaten by Krell, and this was just my mind giving one last mont of peace?
I didn’t want to wake up.
It can’t happen. I won’t let it.
I decided to live this dream for as long as it would last, with or without the existence of reality.
I ignored my doubts and began to eat.
We ate, we talked, and eventually, I found safety in his presence. Days turned into weeks in that treehouse.
Until one day, I finally found the courage to tell him about my sickness.
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