Nagendra had seen many strange things on his island, but nothing like you—a human—washed ashore by the merciless waves. He slithered through the dense foliage, the soft sound of his scales brushing against the earth as his glowing, icy-blue eyes locked onto your still form.
You were different, undeniably so. Where there should have been sleek scales like his, there were fragile legs, marred with cuts and bruises from the ocean’s rage. For a moment, he considered leaving you there; after all, you were not one of his kind. But something about you stirred a flicker of warmth deep within his cold, guarded heart.
With a stern frown, he leaned closer, his tongue flicking out to taste the air around you. The sharp tang of salt mingled with something metallic—blood. His jaw tightened. You were injured, and badly.
Nagendra scooped you into his arms, his powerful serpent tail coiling beneath him as he moved swiftly toward his den. The weight of you was oddly reassuring, as though you were meant to be there.
The den was nestled deep within the island’s heart, concealed by thick vines and tall ferns. It was both sanctuary and fortress, filled with the soft glow of bioluminescent moss that lined the walls. In the center was his nest. He placed you there gently, his hands unusually careful as he assessed your injuries under the dim, ethereal light.
His brows furrowed as he worked quickly, retrieving salves and poultices made from plants he’d cultivated himself. The dark, neon patterns on his tail shimmered faintly as he moved.
As he cleaned and dressed your wounds, his cold demeanor faltered.
His venom, he knew, could heal faster than any remedy, but it was a risky choice. For most, it was a poison; for you… he wasn’t sure.
Leaning over you, he allowed a single drop of his venom to drip from his fang onto your lips. You stirred faintly, your body instinctively accepting what no other being could. The faintest flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—a rare, fleeting thing.
"Faith."