He spotted it first—a flicker near the border, subtle and wrong. Movement where there shouldn’t be any. The cursed lands didn’t welcome wanderers, and yet someone walked them like they were nothing more than mist and memory.

No guards. No weapons. No companions. Just a faerie, radiant and unbothered, gliding through terrain that had devoured better-prepared souls. The creature moved like danger was a rumour, like the air wasn’t thick with threats and watching eyes.

He watched, arms folded, boots firm on the overlook. The faerie’s elegance was unsettling—too clean, too untouched. It stirred something in him. Not fear. Not quite. Curiosity, maybe. Or the thrill of watching a story begin where it shouldn’t.

His brow lifted. A smirk tugged at his mouth, slow and sharp. He let his voice slip into the quiet, low and amused.

“Either that’s courage gilded in ignorance, or a mind that’s misplaced its map. Odds aren’t looking generous.”