CHAPTER 5– AND SO, IT BEGINS

HELENA 

Sunrays seeped through the cracks in the wooden walls. It didn’t feel like morning. It felt like survival continued. I woke slowly, my body stiff in ways that made every breath feel like a reminder of what had happened. For a moment, I didn’t move. I didn’t think. Just lay there, staring at the dim ceiling, trying to remember where I was.

Then it came back, the road, the fire, the man. My fingers twitched as I pushed myself up slightly. The cabin was quiet, too quiet. I force my gaze across the room. he was already awake. Of course he was. He sat near the fire, not looking at me. one hand rested near a blade laid casually beside him.

The other turning something over slowly, methodical, controlled. Like time didn’t press against him the way it pressed against me. he didn’t greet me. didn’t acknowledge I was awake. But I knew he knew. “Good.” He said finally, without looking up. “You didn’t die in your sleep.”

My throat tightened slightly. I didn’t answer. It was obvious not answer needed there. he stood then, as if my presence had already been accounted for, and moved to the small pit above the fire. The smell of warmed water filled the space. “You sleep deeply for someone being hunted.” He said.

That made my stomach turn. Hunted. I sat up straight, despite the pain pulling at my ribs. “I’m not…”

“Don’t” he cut in, not harsh. Just final. Silence fell again. He didn’t want my excuses or lies. He poured something into a cup and finally turned towards me. his eyes landed on me the same way they had the day before. Like I was a problem he hadn’t decided the shape of yet.

“Who was chasing you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. Simple, direct. No emotion in it.  hesitated. That hesitation alone was enough. His gaze sharpened slightly. “Not bandits. Not random men.” My hands tightened on the hem of my skirt.

He studied me for a moment longer, then added quietly, almost like a correction rather than a question. “You ran from something organized.” My breath caught. He knew. Not guessed, not suspected. He knew.

I lifted my head and looked at him. “What of it?” I wanted to know what he was going to do with that information. He studied me for a moment, not quickly, not casually. Like he was weighing the cost of answering. Then he set the cup down. “You still don’t understand your position.” He said.

My jaw tightened. “Then explain it.” his indifference, coldness and lack of communication was driving me insane. He raised an eyebrow, a deliberate pause. That pause again, always that damn pause! Frustrating. He crouched slightly so he was closer to my level, but it didn’t feel like comfort. It felt like containment.

“You ran from something that doesn’t allow loose ends.” He said quietly. “And you are still breathing.” My stomach sank. “That should worry you.” he added. I forced myself not to look away, not to show him how scared I was, how my hands trembled. “So, what are you saying?” his eyes flicked over me again, quick and precise.

“I am saying.” he paused. “You either matter more than you think, or less than you realize.” Silence pressed in. neither option felt good. I swallowed hard. I only wanted to survive. Whether I mattered to those people or not was not my concern now. “And where do you fit into that?”

That earned me the smallest shift in his expression, not a smile, not quite. Something close to acknowledgement. “Me?” he repeated softly. He straightened again, turning slightly towards the fire. “I am just deciding which one you are.” My breath caught. That was worse. Not an enemy, not an ally. A decision still being made.

He reached for something near the firewood, a strap, something practical and added almost casually, as if the conversation meant less to him than the flame itself. “If I were you, I would stop asking questions that force answers you are not ready to hear.” I stared at him. “Because?” I asked anyway, quieter now.

He didn’t look at me when he answered. “Because I haven’t decided what you are worth alive yet.”