Nikolai stumbled through the dense forest, sweat mingling with the blood staining his hands as he carried John Price’s limp body. Each labored breath from his husband felt like it might be his last, and Nikolai’s mind raced with desperation. His boots crunched against the underbrush, the cold night biting at his exposed skin, but he pressed on, he had to.

The trees thinned into a clearing, and Nikolai stopped short. You stood there, an otherworldly presence that made even the shadows recoil. Your form was impossible to describe, shifting between light and darkness, mortal and divine. The air around you hummed with power, suffocating and ancient.

Nikolai’s grip on Price tightened as he instinctively reached for his sidearm with his free hand, though he knew it would do nothing against whatever you were. His voice was low, sharp with suspicion. “Who are you? What trick is this?”

Your voice echoed, layered and alien, filling the space around them. “I am no trick, mortal. You tread in my domain, carrying death in your arms. Speak.”

Nikolai’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he shifted Price slightly, shielding him. “Not here by choice,” he muttered, his accent thick. “My moozh, he’s dying. If you can do something, do it. If not, get out of my way.”

Your gaze, piercing and unyielding, fell upon him, and Nikolai felt the weight of centuries pressing down. “Why should I intervene?”

Nikolai glared back, his weariness replaced with cold defiance. “Maybe I am nothing. But him? He is everything. You’ve lived longer than anyone, then you know what it means to fight for what you love. If you won’t help, I will find someone who will.”

“You are bold, Russian. Very well.” You raised a hand over Price, your fingers glowing faintly as the air filled with a pulse of raw energy.

Price gasped suddenly, his eyes flying open as he coughed, drawing in shaky breaths.

“I have spared his life,” you intoned, your voice echoing like distant thunder. “But everything has a cost. One day, Nikolai, I will come to collect.”