Kaelion had lost track of time he didn't know how much time have passed.
He stirred from the depths of unconsciousness, his senses sluggish and distant.
His eyelids felt heavy, like iron doors slowly creaking open.
As he blinked away the haze, blurry shapes came into focus muted wood, soft sunlight filtering through a narrow window, and the lingering scent of something warm wafting through the air.
Where am I?
This wasn't the dark forest he remembered. Gone was the oppressive gloom of Arcove, along with its stench of rot and the bone-deep ache from lying on the cold ground. The fear of being hunted had vanished too.
Instead, Kaelion found himself sprawled on a simple wooden bed rough yet infinitely more forgiving than that unforgiving forest floor.
The room was modest: four wooden walls enclosing a small space with frayed curtains fluttering in the breeze and a rickety nightstand holding a candle stub melted halfway down.
His body was bandaged in places; he stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity as he tried to gather his thoughts.
His throat felt raw, but somehow his body no longer screamed in agony.
A dull ache throbbed through his limbs, a reminder of pain past, but it was manageable now.
With effort, he propped himself up with a grunt. Someone had found him. Someone had pulled him from that cursed forest.
But who? And why?
Just as he began to test his legs, the door creaked open.
A small girl no more than ten stepped into the room.
Bright brown eyes sparkled beneath messy chestnut hair tied into twin braids, and she clutched a ragged doll under one arm. The moment her gaze landed on Kaelion, she froze.
They blinked at each other for what felt like an eternity before she turned on her heel and dashed down the hallway.
"Mama! Papa! He's awake! He's awake!"
Footsteps followed quickly behind her.
Kaelion struggled to sit up straighter despite a wave of dizziness crashing over him; his body still felt fragile.
But determination coursed through him as he forced himself to wait upright.
Moments later, the door swung open again.
First came a man the same figure Kaelion faintly remembered seeing before darkness took him: broad-shouldered with sun-darkened skin clad in a faded shirt and workman's boots caked in dust.
Short-cropped hair framed a strong jawline set with cautious eyes that seemed to assess everything around them.
Behind him entered a woman who looked to be in her early thirties; brown hair woven into a braid fell over one shoulder while her face bore the gentle strength of someone who had weathered many storms.
She wore an apron patched from years of use and cradled a wooden bowl filled with steaming food in her hands.
The little girl trailed behind her, tugging along a younger boy just six years old. He peeked out from behind his sister, his wide eyes sparkling with wonder.
Kaelion's gaze wandered to the bowl before him.
It was a humble stew carrots, potatoes, and slivers of meat swimming in a fragrant broth that wafted steam into the air, carrying the enticing scent of herbs and something savory.
His stomach growled loudly in response.
Without uttering a word, the woman whose name Kaelion had yet to learn stepped forward and handed him the bowl.
He didn't speak or thank her; instead, he took it with trembling hands and buried his face into the warm stew.
The first bite seared his tongue, but he didn't care; he devoured it like a starving beast, gulping down chunks of meat and vegetables as if they were the last morsels on earth.
Broth spilled over his lips and soaked into the blanket beneath him, yet he continued to eat.
The family watched in stunned silence, their eyes wide with curiosity as they observed Kaelion wolfing down food as if he hadn't eaten in weeks.
When he finally finished the bowl, he looked up at the woman.
His once-regal eyes were now hollowed by suffering. She nodded encouragingly.
Without hesitation, she turned and returned moments later with another bowl. Kaelion ate even faster this time.
A third bowl came next, then a fourth and soon after a fifth! Each time she returned without comment while her husband stood at the doorway with arms crossed and sharp but not unkind eyes watching over them.
By the sixth bowl, Kaelion's hands had steadied; he began to eat more slowly now, chewing rather than inhaling his meal.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was beginning to feel human again.
After polishing off an eighth bowl of stew, Joren approached timidly with a clay cup filled with cold water.
Kaelion accepted it gratefully and drank deeply; the chill flowed down his throat like a soothing balm settling in his chest.
When he finished drinking, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Silence enveloped them all a moment filled with gratitude and unspoken understanding.
Ten bowls of stew consumed. A bucket's worth of water downed and still not full but undeniably satisfied.
Leaning back slowly against the wall, Kaelion let his eyes flutter shut for just a moment before opening them again to finally speak: "Thank you."
His voice was hoarse, deeper than he remembered and Maris smiled warmly at him.
"You needed it," she replied gently.
Finally breaking his silence, Roran spoke up for the first time: "You've been out for three days now, we thought you weren't going to make it."
Kaelion blinked as he took in his surroundings.
"Where am I?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice.
"Our home," replied a woman with warm eyes. "We're just a few miles from the outer edges of the Reindale Plains. You were found unconscious at the forest's edge."
Reindale? The name was unfamiliar to him, confirming his fears: he had landed on an unmapped continent or perhaps one of the wild outer provinces.
"What's your name, lad?" a man inquired, his tone friendly yet curious.
Kaelion hesitated. Could he utter it? Not Prince Kaelion Vel'Rath not anymore. That title had been stripped away, buried under the weight of exile. But lying felt wrong too.
"Kaelion," he finally admitted, the name tasting foreign on his tongue.
The man nodded knowingly. "I'm Roran, and this is my wife, Maris. Those two troublemakers are Elira and Joren."
Elira beamed with pride while Joren peeked out from behind her like a shy rabbit.
"You're lucky we stumbled upon you when we did," Roran continued. "Most folks wouldn't stop for a body near Arcove."
Kaelion frowned, curiosity piquing within him. "You know about the forest?"
Roran grunted affirmatively. "Everyone around here knows to steer clear of it...even the beasts avoid that cursed place! You came out of there alone?"
Kaelion remained silent, choosing instead to meet Roran's gaze without flinching.
Sensing his reluctance to share more, Roran let it go for now.
Maris stepped closer and gently placed her hand on Kaelion's forehead. "You don't have a fever anymore, that's good news! But you've been talking in your sleep... names, numbers... warnings."
Kaelion briefly closed his eyes; no doubt those were echoes of pain he'd rather forget.
"You can stay here as long as you need to recover," Maris offered softly. "No questions asked."
Her words struck him harder than any blade ever could; no one had ever given him such kindness before.
Unsure how to respond, Kaelion fell silent.
------
The rest of the day unfolded in tranquil simplicity.
Kaelion remained tucked in bed, sipping warm broth while occasionally drifting off into slumber.
Elira stayed close by, drawing on scraps of parchment and humming cheerful tunes that danced through the air like sunlight filtering through leaves.
Joren eventually mustered enough courage to sit at the foot of the bed, observing Kaelion with wide-eyed fascination as if studying a rare creature from afar.
Outside, Roran busied himself chopping firewood while Maris tended to chores: cleaning vegetables, hanging laundry out to dry under the sun's gentle embrace, and gathering herbs from their garden.
It was… surprisingly simple.
Kaelion had never known a life like this. In the palace, every moment felt like a performance every glance scrutinized, every word meticulously rehearsed.
But here? Everything flowed naturally, effortlessly.
As he observed the family around him, questions swirled in his mind. Could I have lived like this? What if I had been born a commoner? Would my heart be lighter?
That night, as they shared a meal and welcomed him into their circle, Kaelion felt something new stir within him a sensation that was neither peace nor discomfort but rather the echo of what true belonging could feel like.
He sat quietly at the table, savoring each bite while listening to Elira weave tales of her imaginary escapades and Joren excitedly chatter about oxen and worms.
Maris's frequent smiles warmed the room, while Roran sipped his drink, occasionally nodding in Kaelion's direction.
No one asked about who he was or his past; instead, they simply embraced him as one of their own.
And for the first time in eighteen years… Kaelion didn't feel like a prince. He just felt human and that was more than enough.
Just like that he drifted off to sleep beneath a thin blanket that night.