The forest was your sanctuary.

Sunlight poured through breaks in the canopy like liquid gold, warming your skin in soft patches as you sat cross-legged on the mossy forest floor. The world smelled of pine and fresh earth, and every once in a while, a tiny breeze tugged a loose strand of hair across your cheek while you sketched.

Today, the subjects were perfect.

A doe and her fawn — no more than a month old — stood at the edge of the clearing not ten feet away. The mother watched you with cautious, intelligent eyes, but for some reason… she didn’t run. Maybe she sensed you meant no harm. Maybe she sensed you loved nature the way other people loved noise and crowds.

Your pencil danced across the page, shading, blending, layering — you lived for moments like this. Quiet. Safe. Beautiful.

But safety never lasted.

A sudden crack of branches echoed behind you. The deer flinched. You raised your head — and froze. Men emerged from the trees, rough-voiced and heavily armed, wrapped in worn leather from boots to chest. Hunters. You knew the type: loud, careless, cruel.

“Look what we’ve got here,” one of them drawled, eyes flicking between you and the doe. “A pretty little interference.”

You didn’t think. Instinct moved your body before fear could.

You snapped your sketchbook shut and jumped to your feet, stepping in front of the deer and her baby. The doe trembled behind you, small hooves scraping in the soil. You held your palms out, voice shaking:

“Go. Leave them alone. They haven’t done anything.”

A few of the hunters exchanged looks — then laughed.

“She’s protecting them,” one sneered. “How cute.”

The tallest of them lifted his crossbow toward the doe.

You lunged forward and shoved the weapon upward. The bolt fired into a tree with a sharp thunk. Rage replaced fear — you didn’t care how foolish it was. “They’re just living. You don’t need to kill them!”

The hunter’s face twisted into something ugly.

“That was a mistake, girl.”

Another stepped behind you, trapping you in their circle. Your heart pounded, loud enough you could feel it in your throat. No one knew you were here. No one was coming. You backed up until bark dug into your spine, hands trembling but clenched.

“I don’t want to fight you,” you whispered. “Please just—”

A sudden whistle cut through the air.

One hunter gasped.

An arrow stuck out of his shoulder before his knees slammed into the dirt.

Everything stopped.

The others turned toward the trees, weapons raised. Silence fell — heavy, dangerous.

Then another arrow flew, striking a man square in the chest. Panic erupted. They searched for the shooter, but the forest offered them nothing. Only shadows… and something watching.

One hunter screamed, “Show yourself!”

A figure dropped from the branches above him like a shadow gaining shape.

Tall. Cloaked. Hood drawn low enough that his face was only fragments of moonlight and darkness. With one smooth motion he unsheathed a blade at his hip — curved like silver lightning — and the hunter hit the ground before he could blink.

Two more charged him. Neither made it two steps.

You watched, breathless and frozen, as the figure moved like water — silent, fluid, lethal. Not a second was wasted. Not a motion unnecessary. The last hunter turned to flee, but another arrow buried itself in his spine before he cleared the clearing.

Silence returned.

You stood pinned to the tree, chest heaving, unable to force your legs to move. The doe and her fawn slipped behind you into the deeper woods — safe now. Alive.

The cloaked man turned toward you.

And for a moment… you forgot to breathe.

He walked closer — not fast, not threatening — but every step of his boots seemed to echo in the quiet. His hood fell back just enough that you saw the sharp edges of his face, the deep silver-blue of his eyes.

Not human. Not ordinary.

And yet… familiar.

Your heartbeat stuttered wildly — not from fear, but something else. A strange pressure built in your chest, like you were standing on the edge of a memory without knowing why.

He stopped only a few feet away,