The first rays of dawn revealed a nightmare. Eujal eased his stiff body down from the tree, boots sinking into damp earth. His eyes drifted over the wreckage of what used to be his companions—torn limbs, half-devoured torsos, and that balakai''s footprints gouged deep into the soil. Naleera''s body rested off to one side, her black headscarf soaked in dark, crusted blood. He forced himself not to linger on her empty gaze.
A sick feeling churned in his stomach. He turned away, staggered a few steps, and nearly retched. If he stayed too long, he might lose his resolve altogether. So he pushed onward, remembering snatches of conversation about this kingdom: the south was mostly wilderness, dotted with scarce settlements; the north, beyond the Jazedir Mountains, was densely populated. That meant Scissia City was his only real shot at safety. Zaher had decided they''d go downhill, and though it made no logical sense to Eujal—mountains were usually up—Eujal stuck to that path. It was all he had left of his captain''s plan.
Following the gentle slope, he picked his way through tangled roots and thorns. His injured arm throbbed with every step. Eventually, the ground leveled off into a valley, and he heard the faint rush of water. Several small creeks joined together, forming a modest river that cut across the forest floor. Eujal knelt by the bank to drink, scooping icy water into his mouth until his throat stopped burning.
That''s when he spotted something sticking out of the mud on the far side—a corner of dark, worn wood. The river wasn''t deep, so he waded across, curious despite himself. With careful fingers, he cleared away caked mud and grit, revealing more of the waterlogged timber until he finally uncovered what it really was: a coffin. Old, heavy, sealed tight by decay and earth. Near the top, he noticed a carved emblem—a crow with a crown, its outline barely visible through the grime.
He brushed away a little more mud, and his hand happened to slide across that engraved bird. A jolt shot through his body. It felt like his thoughts were being yanked out of him, leaving a strange, hollow buzz in his skull. Eujal gasped, stumbling back as his stomach twisted. He lurched to the side and vomited, limbs shaking, mind spinning.
It took him a moment to recover. He pressed a hand against his pounding chest, eyes locked on the coffin. Whatever sorcery or curse clung to that box, he wanted no part of it. With one final glance at the crow and its crooked crown, he turned his back on the thing and started to walk away.
He didn''t make it far.
A thunderous crack split the morning air, followed by a burst of flying splinters. Eujal whipped around to see the coffin''s lid blown clear off—wood fragments scattering along the riverbank. His pulse hammered in his ears, the fresh taste of bile still in his throat.
"Why did that just… happen?" Eujal breathed, still rooted to the spot as he stared at the splintered coffin. His mind whirled with the possibilities of curses or unholy magic, but his body refused to move.
A thin, pale hand crept over the coffin''s jagged edge, fingers trembling as they gripped the broken wood. Then another hand appeared. Eujal clenched his jaw, expecting a skeletal abomination. Instead, a boy pulled himself into view—black hair matted with mud, his eyes a washed-out grey, set in a face that looked more bone than flesh. His clothes were ragged, stained by rot and soil.
He wavered on his feet, expression dazed as if he''d just awoken from a nightmare. Eujal''s heart pounded in his chest, and for a split second, he almost bolted—memories of the balakai''s attack still raw in his mind. But the boy appeared so frail, so utterly lost. He scanned the unfamiliar forest, his eyes landing on Eujal. Fear flickered across his face. His knees buckled, and he half-collapsed against the ruined coffin.
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"Hey—" Eujal muttered, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm. "Don''t… don''t pass out on me."
The boy''s breath hitched as though even that was a struggle. He clung to the coffin edge, wavering. Against every warning bell in his head, Eujal scrambled forward and caught him by the arm, steadying him. He felt the jut of bone beneath tattered sleeves, a tremor coursing through the boy''s thin frame.
"Easy," Eujal said, forcing his voice to stay calm, though his heart hammered with adrenaline. "You''re alright now… I think. Let''s just… get you away from this thing."
Eujal exhaled slowly as he set the boy down against a tree trunk, turning to glance again at the shattered coffin. The crowned crow emblem lay in the mud near the water''s edge, the carving''s silent presence somehow unsettling. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on the living rather than the disturbing remains of that box.
He crouched beside the boy, who was clearly in shock—his grey eyes wide, breath coming in uneven spurts. Though he was gaunt and looked ready to collapse at any moment, he still flinched when Eujal reached for him.
"Hey," Eujal started, keeping his voice gentle, "are you—?"
"Don''t touch me!" the boy snapped, recoiling. His voice trembled with fear more than anger, but Eujal still felt his hackles rise.
"I''m trying to help you," Eujal shot back, reflexively withdrawing his hand.
The boy''s gaze darted around as if searching for an escape route. He forced himself upright, leaning against the tree trunk. "I… I don''t even know who you are," he managed, his words catching on ragged breaths. "Or where this place is. So just… back away."
Eujal snorted softly in frustration. This day, he thought, couldn''t get any more bizarre. "Fair enough," he said, standing up and stepping back a few paces. "Suit yourself. But you nearly keeled over back there."
"Yeah, well, maybe that''s not your problem." The boy''s reply was prickly, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he closed his eyes and grimaced. His head rolled to one side, and for a moment, Eujal feared he was about to pass out. The boy''s chest rose and fell shakily.
Eujal shot a wary look at the remains of the coffin, then back at the boy. Against his better judgment, he sighed and ventured closer again—more slowly this time. "You look like you haven''t eaten in days," he said. "Or slept. Or… well, anything." He didn''t mention the coffin or how the boy had seemingly been raised from the dead. Just thinking about it made his head hurt. Nothing was making sense right now.
The boy blinked, expression clouded. Pride or panic warred on his face. Finally, he pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. "I… don''t remember," he muttered, so softly Eujal almost missed it.
"All right, well, at least you can drink something," Eujal responded, deciding to keep his tone calm. "Stay here. I''ll get some water."
He didn''t wait for an argument. Moving quickly to the riverbank, he filled a battered leather flask that he still carried from the ill-fated trek with his comrades. Returning to the boy, he offered it with as much patience as he could muster. The boy eyed it warily before snatching it away to take a few gulps.
Eujal folded his arms, forcing himself not to comment on the boy''s ungrateful manner. He could see exhaustion settling over him again, the brief flare of anger or fear draining away. "You''re starved," he murmured. "We both are. Hard to remember the last time I ate something that wasn''t charred rabbit or stale bread." He paused, glancing at the forest that spread out in all directions. "But you won''t survive long without real food. We won''t survive."
He took a breath, meeting the boy''s gaze. "Look," he said, "whatever just happened back there with that coffin—let''s put it aside for a moment. We''re out in the middle of nowhere, and you''re about to collapse. So unless you want to wander off alone… we should figure out how to eat. And soon."
The boy cast a wavering glance at Eujal, as if still deciding whether to trust him or run. Finally, he gave a barely perceptible nod, and though he said nothing, Eujal counted it as agreement enough.