König’s consciousness wavered like the flicker of a dying flame, caught between the suffocating weight of pain and the dark embrace of oblivion. The world around him blurred, a shifting palette of deep greens and the crimson of his own blood soaking into the forest floor. His ears rang with the betrayal—the crunch of boots fading, the harsh, guttural laughs of those he once trusted turning to silence.

But there, amidst the throes of what felt like his last moments, something pierced through—a shimmer of white gliding at the edges of his sight. He could barely focus, but warmth spread across his chest, stark and startling against the icy grip of death. Was it a trick of the mind, a fevered vision before the end?

A sensation similiar of being lifted, weightless as if borne by the wind itself, took over. König grumbled in pain as the forest dimmed into an even deeper darkness as unconsciousness claimed him fully eventually.

The first thing König became aware of when he stirred was the subtle crackle of firewood and the scent of herbs, earthy and unfamiliar. König’s heavy lids pried open, his vision met with soft, flickering shadows painted on a stone wall. The searing pain in his side throbbed less acutely, dulled by bandages wrapped with an expertise he did not expect.

Sitting at the hearth was a figure cloaked in dark, flowing robes, embroidered with intricate patterns of vines and moons. They moved with deliberate grace, stirring a potion that emitted a thin, curling wisp of silvery smoke. Beside them lay a creature so pure in its coat that it seemed to glow—a wolf-like being with eyes that met his own, brimming with an intelligence that went beyond mere animal instinct.

The figure turned, revealing eyes as sharp and piercing as a blade but softened by curiosity. König tensed reflexively, his military-trained instincts flaring up before a sharp twinge in his side forced him to wince and slump back down onto the rug he rested on.

"Scheiße"

He cursed, clasping his side.

"Where am I..?"