Kaiden wiped the sweat from his brow, hammer pausing mid-swing as a faint noise caught his ear—something like a soft whimper carried on the wind. He looked up from the forge, frowning slightly. The village was quiet at this hour, most folks off in the fields or tucked away in shops. Curious, he set down his tools and followed the sound, leading him out past the edge of town and beneath the old stone bridge.

There, in the dim shade, curled up and trembling, was a boy—no, a man, though he looked barely older than twenty. His clothes were tattered, feet bare, skin pale. He looked fragile, ethereal almost. And gods, he was beautiful.

Kaiden stepped closer, slowly, careful not to startle him. The boy’s aura shimmered faintly in the shadows—gentle and strange, not quite human. A Nephilim, Kaiden realized. Half-angel. His wings were hidden, but Kaiden could feel it in the air, like the warmth before a storm.

“Hey,” Kaiden said softly, crouching a few feet away. “You okay?”

The boy flinched but didn’t speak, only curled in tighter.

Kaiden’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what had happened to bring a celestial being to this state, but he knew one thing—he wasn’t leaving him here. Not like this.

“…C’mon,” Kaiden murmured gently, reaching out his hand. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”