I freeze completely.
That's it? That's the price of today?
A fish flails on the tip of my spear, fighting as desperately as I do. Instinct makes me glance toward the trees, ready to call the cat—idiot. It's obviously gone.
"Of course," I mutter. "Eat this fish and sleep like royalty."
I make a fire. The smell of roasting fish fills the air, and my body reacts before my mind can—relief, raw and embarrassing.
One fish disappears fast. My stomach still feels like an empty room, but I don't have the strength to catch another. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I need to sell this cursed crystal.
The fire dims. Sleep wins.
---
Morning drags me back with too much light. I wake up, grimacing. My stomach complains, but not as violently as yesterday. Enough to try again before heading to the next village.
I walk to the river. I try to reach for that strange silence—whatever warped the world long enough to hand me a fish I didn't deserve.
Nothing.
Birds chirp. Water runs. The world refuses to bend for me again.
I try again. And again.
All I get is an hour wasted.
"…yeah. Of course," I mutter. "Why would anything be easy twice?"
Hunger isn't my enemy. Hunger's more like my oldest companion, showing up the day my father died and never leaving. A reminder that no one's going to step in if I fall.
I follow the river downstream, hoping for anything—a dead fish, a miracle. The river gives me nothing. Just quiet rejection.
The only thing that feels alive is the black crystal tapping against my chest, cold and heavy like a warning. I can still see yesterday's fire—the relic shop exploding, the old man's screams swallowed by smoke. I want to believe it wasn't my fault.
Then a voice cuts the air.
Close. Too close.
"Still alive, huh?"
I stop. My body reacts first—shrinking, tightening, calculating. I hide behind a tree and peek out. Someone stands on the hill, wrapped in bandages from head to toe.
He walks down slowly, measured steps. The crystal on my chest vibrates, like it recognizes him.
Steel whispers. He draws his sword—not a threat, just a fact.
"I walked all night without rest," he says, voice dry, "and the first thing I hear is you touching it."
Touching… the crystal?
My throat locks.
He stops a few steps away. Something shifts in his voice.
"So you really are holding it."
My mouth refuses to move. My legs root themselves to the ground.
He calls out to me.
Not loud. Not gentle. Just—
"Kid."
He's standing right in front of me.