The world felt fuzzy, like a dream you couldn't quite catch. Light slipped through a window, soft and pale, nudging my eyelids open.
I was warm. Too warm. Wrapped in heavy blankets that smelled of pine and something metallic — old iron, maybe. My body ached from head to toe, but I wasn't broken. Not completely.
What the hell?
I tried to move, but my limbs felt leaden, as if weighted down by invisible chains. I groaned softly and blinked up at the ceiling — smooth wooden planks stained dark with age, faint cracks running like veins. A single beam creaked somewhere nearby, sighing under its own weight.
The bed I lay in was raised off the floor on thick wooden stilts, the mattress firm but cozy, wrapped in roughspun blankets. To my side, huge glass panes framed an impossible view of ancient trees, thick fog drifting lazily through their branches like ghosts. The whole place felt like some strange half-forgotten dream, equal parts old and new.
Then came the footsteps. Loud, confident, and unapologetically human.
The door swung open with a whoosh, and in strode a woman who seemed to fill the whole room with her energy. Dark-skinned, tall, with long black braids whipping behind her like a banner, she wore what looked like a coat made from stitched blackout curtains and rubberized tarp, draped over layers of leather, mesh, and something that shimmered faintly like scorched wiring. One sleeve hung lower than the other, looped with fraying cable and copper wire, and her boots thudded against the floor like they were built from different worlds.
Her bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief, cutting through the quiet like a lightning bolt
She crossed the room in long, careless strides and plopped herself on the edge of a cushioned bench opposite the bed, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
Her coat shifted with the motion, revealing loops of strange tools, glowing wires, and metal charms that jingled faintly like a pocketful of secrets.
"Well, kid," she said with a grin, "you've got guts if nothing else. Or maybe just a death wish. Hard to tell sometimes."
I tried to sit up a little straighter, but my ribs disagreed. I winced, the motion forcing a sharp breath through my teeth.
"Easy there, hero."
She leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her knees.
"Name's Plor. And, I'm not going to explain it. I just like the sound of it."
You just explained it?
I blinked at her, still trying to string her appearance and attitude together.
"What do you remember?" she asked.
"I… I was in the wetlands. I think I passed out." I said hoarsely.
"You think?" Plor chuckled.
"You were practically compost. Found you half-submerged in mud and looking deader than a snake in frost. Thought you were a corpse until you made that little snort sound."
Kael flushed, embarrassed.
"Thanks, I guess."
Plor waved her hand dismissively.
"Don't mention it. No, seriously, don't. I have a reputation to maintain. People think I'm heartless and terrifying. You tell 'em I dragged some half-dead boy into my home and nursed him, it'll be all over for me."
Despite everything, Kael felt a twitch of a smile.
She seemed to take it as a victory.
"There we go. He lives! Oh, by the way, you were out for eight days. You didn't snore too much, but you do kick."
Kael's eyes widened.
"Eight days?"
"Yeah, and don't worry, I stitched you up and checked for infections. Seems you're just stubborn."
She stood up, walking to a small shelf where she retrieved a ceramic jug and poured him a drink into a tin cup.
"Water. Clean. Don't faint from gratitude."
He drank greedily, then slower as his dry throat adjusted.
"So. Where abouts did you come from?"
She asked, her voice a little sharper this time.
"I- I'm from Rivire." I said hesitantly.
Her face tensed, she looked, mournful, only for it to return to normal moments later.
"Huh, Rivire that's about a hundred kilometers from here, if not more. How'd you manage that?"
"Well, kind of teleported, not on purpose." I muttered bleakly.
"Yeah, that checks out. Can't say I've seen many people come here willingly. Except me of course!" She grinned.
"So. You wanna tell me who Arin is?"
She asked, her voice curious this time.
I stiffened.
"How did you—?"
"You muttered it in your sleep," she said, twirling one of her braids. "More than once. 'Arin, Arin, Arin,' and a few curses that made even me shocked."
The air between them grew heavier.
I looked away.
"Just, someone I killed." I murmured despondently.
She tilted her head.
"Care to explain?"
"When my point awakened, I- I just," my voice was sheepish, but I continued. "Teleported and… I- was inside him, his body…"
"Okay, I get the gist." She said, cutting me off.
My throat burned, as if shards of glass had just rampaged through.
The air felt heavy.
Silence weaving itself into existence.
For a long moment, she didn't say anything. Then, softly—more to herself than to him—she muttered.
"It's always the same…"
Her tone had shifted entirely. Serious. Almost mournful.
"What?" I asked.
Plor stood suddenly and began pacing.
"Well, sorry to say but you're not unique. I know numerous people who've been through similar, hell one person even killed their whole family."
Was that meant to make me feel better?
I stared daggers into her, but she didn't seem to pay it much attention.
She scratched her chin.
"Anyway, where's your family? Should we be getting you back?"
I hesitated. "I don't have one."
Her brows rose. "Oh? That makes things easier for me."
Suddenly her eyes lit up, as if remembering something.
"Oh, haven't asked yet but what's your point? Teleportation? That's what it sounds like."
I flinched.
Plor noticed and softened again.
"Hey, easy. I study Points. Everyone's got one, even those religious pricks who pretend otherwise."
"Bit of a harsh thing to call them no?" I said bewilderedly.
She just shrugged.
My mouth was dry again. I looked around, trying to change the subject. "This house… it's different. I've never seen anything like it."
Plor beamed, bouncing on her heels.
"Ah! A boy of culture. You noticed. It's old stuff. Repaired it from old scraps I found all over the marshes. Luckily it still holds up, mostly. Floors squeak like an old man with arthritis, but they haven't dropped me yet."
Kael ran his hand over the smooth wood of the headboard. "It's warm. Feels alive, somehow."
"It should. I wired parts of it with feedback sensors—old circuitry. Place reacts to temperature shifts, even threats. If you hear a hum, run."
"…What?"
"Kidding!" she laughed.
"Mostly. Seriously, though, this house is older than both of us put together. Used to belong to someone important. Don't know who. Doesn't matter. It's mine now."
Kael felt the edge of exhaustion creeping in again, but her voice kept him tethered.
"Rest more," she said, softer now.
"You've been through something ugly. I can see it in your eyes."
"You think?"
"That I do," she replied.
They sat in silence for a time—her perched like a bird of prey, him sunken in the bed like worn stone.
Then Plor clapped her hands.
"Alright! I'm off to fix the solar catch. You stay put, don't explode, and if you hear the walls whispering, it's probably just the wiring."
I stared at her.
"…Joking again." she added with a wink.
Then she spinned on her heel and strided out the door, humming something bright and tuneless.
Her footsteps echoed lightly through the old structure, each board singing faintly under her weight like an instrument only she knew how to play.
I let my head sink into the pillow. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't cold. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't alone.
And that, strangely, terrified me the most.