Touch Of Eternity - The mortal trails Book 1

A savior

She felt cold, then she felt hot. She was awake, but she couldn't open her eyes, nor speak, she couldn't even move. She heard shuffling sounds followed by a warm feeling pressing against her cheeks, then the sensation of something warm entering her mouth. She was confused, unsure of where she was or who she was in that moment.

"Come now, swallow, and you'll be all better soon."

All better soon... What did he mean? It was the voice of a man. Without thinking, she swallowed. The liquid tasted bitter at first but quickly shifted to a sour tang.

The man came every day, feeding her the same strange liquid until she was able to move her limbs a little. But she still couldn't open her eyes, nor speak. Whenever she tried to force her eyes open, she was met with a suffocating darkness.

One day, she could finally move her hands. Slowly, she started to touch her surroundings, searching for some sense of reality. Her fingers brushed against her face, and she felt it, a blindfold. Hesitant, she took it off cautiously. As her body gradually regained its sensations, she realized she was lying on a soft bed, an actual bed, with clean linens and cushions that cradled her sore limbs.

Her last memories were scattered, but they came back slowly in fragments. Mei, her desperate flight through the forest. She remembered the soldier, the chase, the sound of her body hitting the ground, and then... nothing. She should be in chains, awaiting punishment for killing a soldier. Instead, she was here, surrounded by peaceful birdsong and the smell of fresh grass.

Did they catch her? She was expecting the cold, harsh reality of the emperor's prison to swallow her whole, the chilling touch of stone walls, the distant clink of chains, the ever-present shadows lurking in every dark corner. But as her senses returned, she realized with surprise that the world around her was soft and warm.

She blinked, her gaze adjusting to her unfamiliar surroundings. Above her, the ceiling was made of wood, with beams crisscrossing in a rustic pattern. The light in the room wasn't from torches but from the gentle golden hue of sunlight streaming through an open window. Outside, birds chirped merrily, filling the air with peace.

For a long moment, Xiaoyan lay still, her mind spinning. Where am I? This was certainly not a prison cell. She hadn't felt such comfort in what seemed like a lifetime. She winced as she moved, her muscles still stiff from whatever ordeal she had endured. Her head throbbed, and when she raised a hand to her temple, she felt a bandage wrapped tightly around it.

Panic seized her for a moment. Had they sent her away to die in some forgotten countryside? But no, her bandages were clean, and the bed was freshly made. Someone had taken care of her and tended to her wounds.

She sat up slowly, her head spinning slightly from the effort. The room was simple but cozy, filled with wooden furniture, shelves lined with herbs, and a small table beside the bed with a bowl of water sitting on it. Everything seemed untouched by the chaos of the capital. There were no sounds of bustling markets, no distant cries of soldiers barking orders. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Xiaoyan wondered how she had ended up here. Had someone saved her? But why? Who would go through the trouble of rescuing someone like her, a runaway with nothing to offer?

She had been lost in her confusion for what felt like an eternity when the door creaked open.

Her heart jumped into her throat as she turned her head, half-expecting a guard or some hostile figure. Instead, a man stepped inside, his presence as quiet as the room itself. He moved with deliberate grace, his white robes flowing around him like clouds. His long, dark hair was meticulously kept, shining in the sunlight as it cascaded down his back. What struck Xiaoyan most were the elegant hairpins that adorned his hair. They looked expensive, their intricate design suggesting they were made of fine material. For a brief second, Xiaoyan found herself calculating how much they might cost in the capital, enough to buy her freedom ten times over.

He was handsome, that much was clear. His features were sharp, his skin smooth, but there was no warmth in his beauty. His face was blank, cold even, as if his emotions were locked away deep inside him.

The man's gaze flickered over her, assessing her condition, but he said nothing at first. He simply walked to the table beside her bed, picked up the bowl of water, and placed it gently in her hands. His movements were precise, almost mechanical, as though he had done this countless times before.

"You're awake," he said finally, his voice soft but devoid of emotion. There was no relief, no curiosity, just a statement of fact.

Xiaoyan stared at him, unsure of what to say. "Where... where am I?" she asked, her voice raspy from disuse.

The man didn't look at her as he turned away, gathering herbs from the shelves. "In my home," he replied, his tone flat, offering no further explanation. He began crushing the herbs with his fingers, mixing them into a small mortar.

Xiaoyan frowned. That wasn't much of an answer. She was grateful to be alive, but the confusion gnawed at her. "Who are you?" she asked. Then, worried about Mei, she added, "How long have I been here?" Her face scrunched up as she thought about it. Maybe a few days? A week at most? Mei must be worried sick.

The man didn't answer immediately, focusing entirely on the herbs he was preparing. After a long pause, he spoke. "A healer," he said simply. "I found you near the river... a year ago."

Xiaoyan's brow furrowed. A year? She stared at him in disbelief. "That's impossible," she whispered, her face paling with horror. It couldn't have been that long.

The man glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "You were dying," he said, as though that was all the explanation needed.

Xiaoyan gaped at him. "That's it?" she asked, incredulous. "Nonsense! I couldn't have been here that long... Did anyone come to look for me?" Her head started to pound painfully, and she felt a sudden wave of dizziness.

The man didn't seem fazed by her outburst. He finished mixing the herbs and handed her a small cup. "Drink this," he said, ignoring her question.

Xiaoyan took the cup, her fingers brushing against his for a brief moment. His skin was cold, unnaturally so, and she shivered slightly. She sipped the mixture, grimacing at its bitter taste. The liquid was thick and earthy, but as she drank, the headache subsided slightly.

He stepped back, watching her with the same detached interest, as though her existence was merely another problem to solve. The silence between them stretched on, awkward and heavy.

"No one can find you here. You're safe," he said after a long pause.

Though Xiaoyan wasn't as worried about the soldiers as she was about Mei, her heart sank. Mei... was she left alone for a year? Is she okay? Did she think I abandoned her? These thoughts raced through her mind, but she sighed and pushed them aside.

"Thank you," Xiaoyan muttered after a moment, though the words felt strange in her mouth. She wasn't used to expressing gratitude.

The man inclined his head slightly, accepting her thanks with the same distant air. He walked to the window, looking out at the serene countryside as if the conversation was already over.

Xiaoyan, however, wasn't satisfied. "What's your name?" she asked, her curiosity burning. This man had saved her life, but he remained a mystery, an enigma she couldn't quite unravel.

For a long time, he didn't respond. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before. "Names are not important," he said softly, his eyes still on the landscape outside. "I am simply a healer."

Xiaoyan frowned at his evasive answer, but before she could press him further, he turned and moved toward the door, his white robes flowing behind him like a ghostly figure.

"I'll check on you later," he said, his voice cool and final, leaving no room for argument. And with that, he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

Xiaoyan sat there, staring at the door for a long time. The quiet returned, the birds outside singing their cheerful songs, but she felt none of the peace that the countryside offered. This healer, whoever he was, had saved her life, but his cold indifference unsettled her. He had given her no answers, no reason to trust him beyond the fact that she was still breathing.

She lay back on the bed, her mind racing. At least I'm safe, she thought.

For now, all she could do was wait until she was better. Then, she would set off to find Mei.