The thunder of hooves shattered the stillness of the Enclave.
Cael was the first to his feet, sword already half-drawn. Fen spun around, gripping his axe, and Iris stepped away from the fire, hands tightening at her sides.
A horse burst through the broken gates at a wild gallop, foam flecking its mouth, eyes rolling with panic. Slumped across its back was a man — or what was left of one.
Blood smeared his torn clothes, his body tied to the saddle with a fraying leather strap. His head lolled limply with each pounding step of the horse.
The animal stumbled, legs buckling, and crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The rider was thrown free, hitting the packed dirt hard enough to send up a puff of dust.
For a second, there was silence.
Then Iris was moving, sprinting across the courtyard, Cael and Fen right behind her.
They reached the fallen man.
He was young — perhaps twenty, with dark hair plastered to his forehead with blood. His cloak was shredded, armor cracked and useless. Wounds covered his body: deep gashes, burns, punctures. Blood soaked the ground beneath him, and every shallow, rattling breath seemed to fight against death itself.
"He's dying," Iris said sharply, dropping to her knees beside him.
"Wait," Fen barked, catching her arm. "We don't know who he is."
Cael crouched, scanning the ruins beyond the gates. No other riders. No pursuers. But that didn't mean this wasn't a trap.
"Could be a trick," Fen growled. "Could have a whole damn army behind him."
"Or he could be someone who needs help," Iris snapped, yanking her arm free.
"We don't know that!" Fen shot back. "We don't know anything about him. For all we know, he's a Church dog sent to sniff us out."
Iris glared at him, chest heaving. "If we leave him, he will die."
"Better him than us," Fen said, voice hard.
Iris turned to Cael, pleading.
"Cael," she said, "we can't just let him die. You know that."
Cael's hands curled into fists.
He understood Fen's caution — more than Iris probably knew. But something in the rider's condition... something in the sheer desperation of it... told Cael this man hadn't come here willingly.
Still, every part of him screamed: This could kill us.
Fen pointed to Iris. "If she heals him and he turns on us? That's our heads. We're too weak for another fight."
Silence fell.
The only sound was the shallow, rattling breath of the dying man.
The fire crackled behind them, throwing long shadows over the courtyard.
"I can feel it," Iris said quietly, almost to herself. "He's... he's not evil."
"Feel it?" Fen asked, exasperated. "What does that even mean?"
Before the argument could flare again, Iris moved.
Swift and sure, she pressed her bloodied hands against the man's chest.
A soft, brilliant light bloomed between her palms.
"Iris—" Cael said sharply.
"It's my choice!" she snapped without looking up.
The light grew, spreading over the rider's broken body.
Iris clenched her jaw, sweat already dripping down her face from the strain. Her hands shook violently. The wounds knit shut one by one, ugly scars forming where gashes had been. Blood slowed. Bones creaked as they aligned.
But the price was steep.
Within seconds, Iris was trembling, her face pale, her breathing ragged.
Cael stepped forward instinctively to steady her, but she shook her head fiercely and pressed on.
"You're going to kill yourself," Fen muttered, pacing like a caged wolf.
Still, she kept going.
The healing light flickered... then faded.
Iris collapsed backward, gasping, her hands falling limp at her sides.
The man was still unconscious — but his breathing was stronger, more even.
He lived.
Barely.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then Fen swore under his breath and kicked a loose stone across the courtyard.
"Great," he muttered. "Now what?"
Cael knelt beside the stranger, checking his pulse. Steady, but weak.
"He'll need time," Cael said. "And we still don't know who he is."
Fen ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "What if he wakes up and slits our throats?"
"Then we'll deal with it," Cael said calmly. "We're not defenseless."
Iris sat up slowly, still pale, her hands clenching into fists to stop their shaking.
"I couldn't just watch him die," she said quietly.
"No one's blaming you," Cael said, giving her a small nod of respect. Fen grunted but didn't argue.
They dragged the unconscious man into the shelter of an old stone wall, away from the open courtyard. They made a rough bed of cloaks and settled him there.
For hours, they watched.
The sun climbed high, then began its slow descent, shadows lengthening once more.
The stranger did not wake.
Cael kept a wary eye on the horizon. Fen cleaned and sharpened his axe for the third time. Iris sat near the stranger, checking his bandages, murmuring soft reassurances he likely couldn't hear.
Night fell.
The three of them took turns keeping watch, nerves fraying with every passing hour.
At some point, Fen sat down beside Cael near the fire.
"You think he'll make it?" he asked, voice low.
Cael shrugged. "If Iris has anything to say about it, he will."
Fen grunted.
"And if he's bad news?"
"Then we deal with it," Cael said simply.
Fen gave a humorless chuckle. "You're getting real good at saying that."
Cael didn't answer.
He just stared into the fire, feeling the slow, heavy thrum of his own heart.
He didn't trust the stranger.
Not yet.
But he didn't trust the world much either.
When his turn at the watch ended, Cael lay back against a piece of broken masonry, staring up at the endless black sky. Stars blinked down at him, cold and distant.
Somewhere out there, gods still laughed at mortal struggles.
He closed his eyes.
And when he opened them again, it was to the sharp gasp of a breath.
Cael shot upright.
The stranger was awake.
His eyes — a deep, unsettling shade of gray — were wide open, scanning his surroundings with the frantic, animal fear of someone who expected pain.
He struggled to sit up, wincing at the movement, reaching instinctively for a weapon that wasn't there.
"Easy," Cael said, raising his hands slowly.
Fen was already rising, axe in hand but held low.
Iris approached cautiously, palms open.
"You're safe," she said softly.
The stranger blinked at them, confusion and fear flickering across his bruised face.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then he spoke, his voice raw and broken:
"Where... where am I?"
The fire cracked softly behind them.
And just like that, the fragile peace of the Enclave shattered once more.