The Wanderer

A scent.

It was faint at first, a delicate whisper against the cold void of unconsciousness. Then it grew, weaving itself into my senses, dragging me back from the abyss.

The crisp, clean scent of fresh leaves. The soft sweetness of wildflowers. Damp earth, kissed by morning dew. The faint, distant murmur of running water.

I inhale sharply, my lungs stinging as they remember how to breathe. My fingers twitch against something soft—grass. Slowly, my body stirs. My eyelids flutter open, greeted by the blinding embrace of the sun.

I wince. The light stabs through the haze in my mind, and for a moment, I forget where I am.

Then reality settles in.

The towering trees, their thick roots sprawling across the ground like ancient veins. The sunlight filtering through the canopy, casting dappled golden hues onto the forest floor. The vibrant blue and red wildflowers that dot the lush green carpet of grass.

The sound of birds, their songs distant yet rhythmic, filling the silence between the rustling leaves. The faint hum of insects hidden beneath the foliage.

A deep ache pulses through my body, my limbs stiff and heavy. My throat is dry, my lips cracked. I try to sit up, and pain flares in my ribs.

“…Where am I?” I mutter hoarsely, my voice barely above a whisper.

I blink rapidly, rubbing my bleary eyes with the back of my trembling hand. Everything around me is unfamiliar. This isn't the Lachius mansion. This isn’t home.

Home.

Memories surge back in a brutal wave.

The assassins. The blood. Grilda—dead in her bed. Lucian, Lina, Mara—slaughtered in the entrance hall. That thing wearing my mother’s face, tearing through the intruders like a beast from hell.

My stomach twists violently.

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I feel my breath hitch, coming in short, uneven gasps. My fingers dig into the dirt beneath me.

No. No. No.

I press my forehead against my knees, squeezing my eyes shut. The images won’t leave me. The scent of iron, the heat of the fire, the screams—

“So, you’ve woken up.”

The voice is soft, smooth—yet distant, detached.

My head jerks up instantly, my body tensing despite the soreness wracking my muscles.

I scan my surroundings, eyes darting between the trees. There’s no one. Only shadows stretching between the trunks.

I grit my teeth. “Who’s there?” My voice is rough, hoarse, but I try to sound firm.

A figure steps forward.

From between the tall trees, she emerges—graceful, unhurried, as if she has all the time in the world.

A girl.

Long green hair cascades down her back, her forelocks framing a pale face. Piercing red eyes, distant and unreadable. She’s slender, tall for a girl her age, with long legs and a composed posture. Her black dress fits loosely, a golden cross adorning the center of her chest.

She stares at me, unblinking.

“Humans are so alarmed by the unknown,” she murmurs, a small sigh escaping her lips. “You should be grateful. After all, I saved your life.”

I narrow my eyes. “Saved me?”

She tilts her head slightly, as if my confusion is unexpected. “You were lying unconscious in the plains near that burning mansion. I brought you here.”

A jolt runs through my chest.

The burning mansion.

I had set fire to the Lachius estate, watched the flames consume the place I once called home. The pain rushes back, a dull ache settling deep in my bones.

“So?” Her voice cuts through my thoughts. “What happened? Why were you lying there like a corpse?”

I clench my fists. The words catch in my throat.

I don’t want to say it.

I don’t want to relive it.

As if sensing my hesitation, the girl steps forward, her red eyes settling on mine. “Valtheria.”

I blink. “What?”

“My name. It’s Valtheria,” she says, watching me intently. “And yours?”

“…Castiel,” I mutter, my voice hollow. “Castiel Lachius.”

Valtheria nods slowly, as if committing my name to memory. “I see.”

Silence lingers between us.

After a moment, she glances down, her gaze settling on something beside me.

“You’re a mage, aren’t you?”

I follow her gaze and realize she’s looking at Velmora’s staff, lying beside me in the grass.

I hadn’t even noticed it. My fingers twitch at the sight of it.

“That’s a very expensive staff,” Valtheria muses. “It’s worthy of a high-ranking wizard.”

“…It was a gift.” My voice is quieter this time. “From my parents.”

Her eyes flicker slightly, almost imperceptibly. “I see.”

Another beat of silence. Then, with another sigh, she gestures toward the woods. “If you have enough strength to sit and talk, you have enough to walk. Come with me.”

I hesitate.

She doesn’t seem hostile, but that doesn’t mean she’s trustworthy.

Still… if she wanted to hurt me, she could’ve done it while I was unconscious.

I press my palm against the ground and push myself up, using my staff as support. My body protests, but I grit my teeth and endure it.

“…Where are we going?” I ask.

“To find food.”

At the mention of food, my stomach twists. I hadn’t realized how empty it was until now.

She glances at me again. “There are rabbits deeper in the forest. They’ll be enough for a meal.”

I nod slowly.

Without another word, we start walking.

The silence between us is thick. The only sounds are the rustling leaves and the occasional chirp of distant birds.

I clear my throat. “So… you live out here?”

“In a sense.”

“…What does that mean?”

“I go where I want.”

That’s not an answer.

I frown slightly but don’t press further. There’s something about her—a quiet detachment, as if she exists apart from the world around her.

She doesn’t ask any more questions about my past. I’m grateful for that.

After what feels like an eternity, we find a small river. The water is impossibly clear, reflecting the golden light of the sun.

Valtheria kneels beside it, cupping water in her hands and drinking.

I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t even know if it’s safe to drink.”

She tilts her head. “If it wasn’t, I would’ve noticed by now.”

That’s not how that works, but I don’t argue. I crouch beside the river and take a sip. The cold liquid soothes my parched throat.

Then—

A rustling sound.

My head jerks up.

Between the bushes, two small creatures emerge, their white fur pristine under the moonlight. Their red eyes flick between me and Valtheria, twitching in caution.

“There’s our meal,” Valtheria murmurs.

I grip my staff, steadying my breath.

The rabbits tense, their long ears flicking back as if sensing danger.

I don’t give them time to react.

I cast Ventocaptura, a basic spell. A vortex of wind swirls around them, catching them in its invisible grasp. They squirm, their small bodies twitching against the force—until they don’t.

Their movements slow. Their breaths shorten. Their bodies fall limp.

And then—nothing.

Just like that, they’re dead.

I exhale, lowering my staff. I shouldn’t feel guilty. This is survival.

Valtheria steps forward, pulling a dagger from the folds of her dress. She kneels beside the rabbits, her expression unreadable as she grips the first one by the scruff. With practiced ease, she presses the blade to its skin, ready to cut—

And then, I see it.

A small, glowing purple orb hovering above their lifeless bodies.

My breath catches.

I blink. Once. Twice.

The orbs don’t disappear.

They just… linger, flickering faintly like dying embers.

I glance at Valtheria. She doesn’t react. She doesn’t even seem to notice them.

I reach out, hesitant, my fingers brushing against the strange glow—

And the rabbit’s dead body twitches.

I kneel down by the rabbit, my hands trembling, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The air is thick with the stench of death, and suddenly, I feel the weight of my own power pressing down on me like a physical force. My mind races, but my body is still. It’s as if I’m frozen, paralyzed by the aftermath of what just happened.

The little creature I’ve just brought back to life—its body now moving unnaturally—shakes its head. It stands, its fur now black instead of white, and those once-curious red eyes are now glowing a sinister purple. It twitches, then slowly turns to face me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as my stomach churns violently. I want to scream. I want to run.

“Did... did I just...?” My voice cracks, barely above a whisper, a pit of dread forming deep in my gut. The weight of the past few hours, of everything I’ve seen, suddenly becomes too much. Grilda, the mansion, my family, all dead, and now I’ve just brought something back to life... or worse, turned it into one of those monsters.

The smell of the blood from before, from my family, assaults my senses once again. The cold, metallic scent seems to cling to everything around me, mixing with the scent of the fresh grass underfoot. It makes my stomach turn. I barely manage to suppress the bile rising in my throat.

As the rabbit turns to me, those eyes—no longer those of an innocent creature—stare at me. It’s as if it knows what I did. And for a moment, I can’t tell whether it’s the rabbit’s anger or my own reflection in its eyes.

I stagger back, my mind crashing with fragments of memories. The vision of my family’s corpses, of Grilda’s lifeless body and the carnage—it’s all coming back. I can’t think. My head spins. I’m drowning in it.

Then—something—a feeling, or maybe it’s an instinct, rises in me. Panic. Pure, unfiltered panic.

“No,” I whisper, barely able to form words as the nausea threatens to take over. My breath is ragged, and it’s like I can’t catch it fast enough. I’m hyperventilating. The memories of that night, of death, of the monster Grilda became, flood me all over again.

I can’t. I can’t deal with this. Not now.

The rabbit, now standing eerily before me, turns slowly, its head jerking in an unnatural movement, as if it’s being controlled by some unseen force. I feel like I’m suffocating, my chest tight, my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

“Valtheria...” I gasp, my voice broken as I turn towards her, my body trembling uncontrollably. “What’s happening to me? What the hell is this?”

The soft rustle of her dress against the grass is the only sound that breaks through the haze of panic in my head. Her cold, indifferent voice cuts through the chaos in my mind.

“Calm down,” she says, her voice steady and calm, but there’s an underlying note of something almost... comforting. It’s unexpected. She moves toward me, and without warning, she pulls me into a tight embrace.

I freeze. The sudden contact feels alien. I’m not used to this. I don’t know if I deserve this comfort. But as her warmth surrounds me, her gentle, soothing voice is like a balm over the open wounds in my heart.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost tender. “Breathe, Castiel. You’re safe now. You’re not the monster you think you are.”

Her words don’t make sense. How can she say that? How can she see me as anything other than what I am? I just—I just killed something.

The world spins. I feel my body slump against her as the sobs take over. The tears come without warning, hot and jagged, clawing their way up from some deep place inside me that I don’t even recognize anymore. The shock, the grief, the terror, it all explodes from within.

“You’re not a monster,” she repeats, pulling me closer as I bury my face in her shoulder. The coolness of her voice helps steady my racing pulse, and for a moment—just a brief moment—I feel... safe. Not entirely, but enough to breathe.

I still don’t understand what’s happening to me, but in her arms, at least for now, I don’t have to.

The pain, the loss, the horror—it’s too much. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep going after all of this. But I have to.

After a long silence, Valtheria gently pulls away, just enough so I can look at her. Her expression is still unreadable, but there’s a slight shift in her gaze, something soft and knowing. She doesn’t say anything.

I stand there for a moment, catching my breath, trying to find some sliver of myself within the chaos. I nod slowly, the tears still falling as I whisper, “Thank you...”

***

We ran.

The moment the rabbit twitched back to life—its once white fur turning black, its red eyes shifting to glowing violet—I felt my breath catch in my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to break free.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. I had only touched it. I didn’t chant a spell. I didn’t will it back.

It just… happened.

The weight of my own power crashed over me like a tidal wave. A deep, suffocating sickness crawled up my throat, and before I could process it any further, Valtheria grabbed my wrist.

“We should go.”

Her tone was calm—too calm—but I could tell she didn’t want to linger.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t hesitate.

We left the undead rabbit behind, its eerie, lifeless gaze watching us as we disappeared into the woods.

Eventually, we made it back to the clearing—the place where we first met this morning. The sky was darker now, speckled with thousands of stars stretching endlessly above us. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh grass.

And there, in the center of the clearing, Valtheria built a fire.

She had gathered sturdy branches earlier in the forest and used them to construct a simple makeshift spit, propping it over the flames. One of the flufftail rabbits we caught—the one I hadn’t revived—was skewered on it, slowly roasting over the embers.

I sat a few feet away, arms wrapped around my knees, watching the flames flicker.

My stomach was empty, but I wasn’t hungry.

Not after what I had done.

Not after realizing that something inside me could twist the dead into something unnatural.

The silence stretched between us, save for the occasional pop of burning wood. The warmth of the fire kissed my skin, a contrast to the cold sinking into my bones.

I wasn’t shivering from the night air.

I was shivering because I knew.

Knew that something in me had changed. Knew that something had awakened.

“…You’re quiet,” Valtheria murmured.

I flinched slightly at the sound of her voice. It was the same as always—calm, monotone, unreadable. But now, after everything, it felt different.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice out. “Why don’t you find this strange?”

She glanced at me, unimpressed. “Find what strange?”

“This.” I gestured vaguely at myself, at the fire, at the world. “Everything.”

She tilted her head slightly, red eyes reflecting the flames.

“I’m a kid who can cast magic without speaking incantations. That alone should be weird enough,” I muttered, my grip tightening around my knees. “But more than that… I brought something back from the dead. I don’t even know how. I didn’t do anything. I just touched it, and suddenly—”

I cut myself off. The image of the rabbit’s empty, glowing eyes burned into my mind.

My stomach twisted.

I am a monster.

Valtheria studied me for a long moment before letting out a slow breath.

“So?”

I blinked. “What?”

She rested her hands on her lap, her expression unreadable. “You’re acting like this is something to be ashamed of.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“How the hell am I not supposed to be ashamed?” My voice was hoarse, cracking slightly. “I don’t even understand what this power is. I don’t know how it works. What if I lose control? What if next time, I don’t just bring back a rabbit—what if it’s something worse? What if I hurt someone?”

Valtheria didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. She simply stared at me, quiet and still.

Then, she spoke.

“If it exists, you should use it to your advantage.”

My fingers dug into my arms.

“You think repressing it will make it disappear?” she continued, her voice steady. “If anything, ignoring it will only make it worse. You’re afraid because you don’t understand it.”

I clenched my jaw.

She wasn’t wrong.

But she wasn’t right either.

She said it like it was simple. Like accepting this power—this curse—was as easy as breathing.

Like I could just choose to live with it.

But I couldn’t.

A few days ago, I was living in a mansion, training in magic, playing with Arthur, celebrating my birthday with my family.

Now I was here.

Alone.

A deep, bitter exhaustion weighed down on me, and I didn’t have the strength to keep arguing.

I looked away. “Whatever.”

Valtheria didn’t press further. She turned back to the fire, rotating the spit with practiced ease. The scent of roasted meat filled the air, rich and savory.

She glanced at me. “These rabbits are called flufftails,” she murmured, almost absently. “Their meat is soft. Good for roasting.”

I said nothing.

She carefully pulled the skewer from the fire, then—without hesitation—held out the roasted rabbit to me.

“Eat.”

I frowned. “What about you?”

“I don’t need much,” she replied. “You need it more.”

“I can’t eat the whole thing by myself.” I shoved it back toward her. “You caught it too.”

Valtheria stared at me for a second. Then, she sighed.

“You’re just a little boy, Castiel.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, like she was stating something as obvious as the sky being blue. “You need to eat properly if you want to grow.”

Something about the way she said it made me pause.

I huffed softly, shaking my head. “Fine.”

I took the meat from her hands and hesitantly bit into it.

The flavor spread across my tongue—simple, a little charred, but warm. Comforting. The warmth traveled down my throat, settling in my stomach like a small, flickering ember.

Valtheria watched me as I ate.

By the time I finished, my exhaustion hit me like a crashing wave.

The fire crackled beside us, casting soft shadows on the grass. The wind rustled the trees, the stars blinked lazily overhead.

Without a word, Valtheria shifted closer—and pulled me against her.

My body stiffened instinctively.

Her warmth seeped into my skin, her steady breathing rising and falling beside me.

I blinked slowly, my limbs growing heavy.

What is this?

I had always been the one reaching for others—gravitating toward Arthur, clinging to Grilda’s warmth. But now… someone else was holding onto me.

Does Valtheria see me as a little brother? Just like I did with Arthur?

The thought was strangely comforting.

I closed my eyes, exhaustion fully taking over.

And i sleep peacefully in her arms.