Drip… drip… drip…
Consciousness returned in fragments.
Pain came first. A deep, pulsing ache spread through Blue's ribs and chest while freezing numbness lingered stubbornly beneath it, as though the river still clung to his body long after releasing him. Every breath scraped painfully through his lungs. The scent of damp stone, smoke, and crushed herbs filled the air around him while distant water echoed somewhere beyond the darkness.
His eyes opened briefly before shutting again almost immediately.
Dim firelight flickered against rough cavern walls covered in moss and pale strands of glowing fungi. Shadows shifted unevenly across the stone ceiling while heat from a nearby fire brushed weakly against his freezing skin.
A figure sat beside him.
Blue couldn't make out much beyond the outline at first. Broad shoulders. Scarred hands stained with herbs. Slow, controlled movements as strips of cloth were tightened carefully around his ribs before pressure spread sharply through his side again.
Pain dragged a strained breath from him.
"Stay awake," the man said quietly.
The voice sounded distant through the haze clouding Blue's thoughts, but something about it carried steadiness rather than urgency. A rough hand tilted his head slightly while bitter liquid touched his lips.
Blue nearly choked trying to swallow it.
"Easy."
The word came calmer this time.
Darkness pulled at him again almost immediately afterward. Time stopped making sense after that. He drifted in and out of consciousness while the cavern blurred together into fragments of firelight, pain, and half-heard voices. Sometimes he woke to fresh bandages being wrapped around his ribs. Other times he felt heat pressing against wounds that burned badly enough to force him back into darkness.
The figure remained there through all of it.
Always watching.
Always waiting for him to wake again.
At some point the fever worsened.
Blue's body shook violently beneath the heavy pelts covering him while sweat mixed with the freezing chill still trapped deep inside his bones. The cavern walls blurred strangely each time he opened his eyes, shadows stretching unnaturally along the stone while distant whispers brushed faintly against the edge of his hearing before vanishing again.
Once, he thought he heard laughter beneath the sound of the fire.
Another time, he saw silver eyes staring back at him from the darkness beyond the cavern walls.
Neither remained when he looked again.
Days passed before the fever finally began to break.
By the time Blue managed to force himself upright against the stone wall, his entire body trembled from the effort. Pain still lingered through his ribs and shoulders, but the crushing weakness dragging him beneath the surface had finally begun to loosen its grip.
Across the cavern, the figure seated beside the fire looked up from a small pot hanging above the flames.
"You're awake," the man said.
Blue swallowed hard, his throat dry enough to burn. "Where… am I?"
The man studied him for a moment before answering.
"Safe," he said quietly. "For now."
Blue steadied himself carefully against the cavern wall while the fire crackled softly between them.
Up close, the man looked to be somewhere in his thirties. Thick shoulders stretched beneath worn traveling clothes faded by years of hard use, while a mature face sat beneath long golden-brown locs that fell down his back. Despite the signs of experience etched into his features, he still carried a youthful appearance that made him seem younger than his years at first glance.
Scars crossed his forearms and hands in faded layers, some thin and barely visible while others looked deep enough to have nearly taken the limb entirely. They weren't the scars of a laborer. They were the scars of someone who had spent years surviving violence.
A dark tattoo curled beneath one rolled sleeve, disappearing beneath the fabric before Blue could make out its full shape. His posture remained relaxed beside the fire, yet something about him felt constantly alert, as though he could rise and react to danger at a moment's notice.
Most surprising were his eyes.
Their striking golden color stood out beneath the firelight, steady and observant without feeling intimidating. They carried none of Jordan's arrogance or Archibald's cold calculation. Instead, they held a quiet firmness that made him seem strangely difficult to rattle. Yet beneath that strength was an unexpected warmth, the kind found in someone who had seen more hardship than most and still chose to care for those around him.
The feeling caught Blue off guard.
It was the first time he had seen that look in someone other than Kitana. Her eyes had carried the same warmth and quiet understanding, though there had always been a trace of pity hidden beneath it whenever she looked at him. Neto's gaze lacked that pity entirely. There was only compassion, steady and genuine, as though he saw people as they were and accepted them regardless.
Whenever the fire shifted strongly enough, faint traces of orange light flickered deep within his eyes before vanishing again.
For the first time since waking, Blue found himself wondering who he really was.
The man set the small bowl of herbs aside before looking at him again. "Tell me what you remember."
Blue frowned faintly.
"Before the river," the man clarified. "Do you remember how you were injured?"
Fragments returned slowly after that. Stone. Blood. Jordan's fists. Simir's calm expression. Archibald watching from above while the crowd remained silent around him.
Blue's jaw tightened.
"I was thrown into the river," he said quietly. "After that so-called trial."
The man studied him carefully for a moment, as though judging more than the words themselves. "Good," he said. "Your memory survived intact."
Blue lowered his gaze toward the bandages wrapped tightly around his chest. Most of the wounds had already begun closing, but pain still pulsed through his body whenever he shifted too quickly.
Silence settled briefly between them, broken only by the low crackle of burning wood and the steady drip of water deeper within the cavern.
"Why?" Blue finally asked.
The man looked at him. "Why what?"
"Why save me?"
For the first time since Blue woke fully, hesitation flickered across the man's expression. Not uncertainty exactly. More like someone weighing how much truth another person could survive hearing all at once.
"Because your life was never meant to end like that," he said quietly.
Blue frowned faintly. "What does that mean?"
The man exhaled slowly before resting his forearms against his knees. "Before we reach that, there's something I need to know first." His gaze hardened slightly. "What kind of life did Archibald give you?"
The question caught Blue off guard.
At first he answered cautiously, giving only pieces of it. Training, punishments, work, isolation. But once the words started coming, they became harder to stop.
He spoke about long days spent hauling water, scrubbing floors, and cleaning training grounds while the other children practiced techniques under Archibald's supervision. About meals taken away after mistakes that often had nothing to do with him. About standing silently while blame for broken tools, missing supplies, or failed tasks somehow found its way to him no matter who was actually responsible.
He described nights spent alone in servant quarters while the household's favored disciples slept comfortably above. The endless reminders that he should be grateful for what little he had. The punishments disguised as lessons. The lessons disguised as discipline.
Jordan's name surfaced more than once.
Not because Jordan had been the cruelest.
But because he had been the most consistent.
The insults. The fights. The constant need to remind everyone where Blue belonged.
Years of humiliation spilled out slowly beneath the firelight until Blue barely recognized how much of it he had kept buried. Beatings disguised as discipline. Endless labor. Public shame. The constant reminder that he existed beneath everyone else.
The man listened without interruption.
Blue eventually fell silent again, staring into the fire while shame and anger twisted together inside his chest hard enough to make breathing hurt all over again.
For several moments the cavern remained quiet before the man finally spoke.
"You were never meant to live as a servant."
Blue looked up sharply.
The man held his gaze steadily now, whatever hesitation lingered before finally gone. "Also, Blue was never your real name."
Blue frowned immediately. "What are you talking about?"
"The life you lived under Archibald was built on lies," the man said quietly. "Including the name he gave you."
The cavern suddenly felt colder around him.