The sight of the village sparked something in Vaelis—a brief, desperate flare of hope.
"Finally," he whispered. "People. Civilization. Maybe even answers."
He almost laughed. His first instinct was to run toward the nearest house and beg for help, food, clothes, water—anything. His dry lips parted, ready to shout.
But then he froze.
A wave of cold, sinking realization crashed through him.
He looked down at himself again. Completely bare. Dirt clung to his skin. His hair was a mess, tangled by wind and sweat. He wasn't just a lost man—he looked like a madman, or worse. What would they think if they saw him like this?
Would they even help?
And beyond that—what language did they speak? What if it wasn't Chinese? What if it wasn't anything he recognized? What if these people were hostile?
The fear returned. He clenched his fists and took a step back, heart thudding.
"This might not even be... normal," he muttered. "This whole place. I don't know where I am. Or when I am."
For all he knew, these people lived in a different era—before phones, before nations, before law.
And he'd walk into their village, naked, confused, and alone?
No. That was asking to be speared.
He looked at the sky—the sun was dipping low now, bleeding into the horizon like spilled ink. Shadows stretched long across the grass.
Night would come soon.
And night would be his cover.
He took a slow breath, nodded to himself, and crouched low behind the ridge. His muscles ached from the walk, but he forced himself to stay alert.
"I'll wait," he whispered. "Just until it's dark. Then I'll get closer. Quietly."
He'd watch them from a distance. Study them. Learn what he could.
Then, maybe, he could find something to wear. Maybe even steal something, if it came to that. Food. A blanket. Information.
His luck had dragged him into this mess—but maybe, just maybe, it could get him out of it too.
So he waited, crouched in the grass like a shadow.
Watching.
Listening.
Hoping the night would bring answers.
The cold had teeth now.
Vaelis huddled behind a patch of tall grass, arms wrapped tightly around his shivering frame. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving only the dull glow of firelight flickering in the distance. The village was alive, just barely—small flames danced in stone-lined pits outside a few of the huts, casting distorted shadows of the people who tended them.
He watched them in silence.
They didn't seem especially strange. Not at first. They moved slowly, carried woven baskets, sat in circles. Their clothes were made of rough fabric and simple robes, earthy in color, loose-fitting. Their speech—though too distant to hear—was rhythmic, but nothing Vaelis could make out.
His stomach growled.
He clenched his jaw. The hunger was no longer sharp—it was dull, gnawing, like a void. But the cold made it worse. The night wind licked his skin like icy fingers, and each gust felt like it might rip his soul from his chest.
Finally, he decided.
"I have to do something."
He couldn't wait until morning. Not like this.
The firelight offered both danger and salvation. They might see him. They might catch him. But they also might not. And the huts...
If he could just get inside one. Just one.
"If I find clothes, I'll wear them," he muttered under his breath. "Then I can reveal myself. Maybe even pass for someone... lost. Or mute."
It was a plan stitched from desperation, but it was all he had.
He crawled forward, slowly, using the terrain—small rises in the land, tufts of grass, shadows from the fires. His body was shaking now, not just from cold, but from nerves. Every sound felt louder in the dark. His breath. His heartbeat. The soft crush of soil under his palms.
He reached the outer edge of the village.
One of the huts loomed ahead—its doorway covered only by a thin cloth flap, gently swaying in the breeze. No windows. No guards.
He crept closer. Step by step.
Closer.
Closer.
And then, just as his hand reached out to lift the flap—
The world twisted.
No sound. No warning.
One instant he was crouched beside the hut, hand outstretched.
The next—
Nothing.
The sky and earth folded into each other, and then into blackness.
His legs gave out. His body hit the ground with a soft thud.
He didn't feel the cold anymore. Or the hunger. Or anything.
Everything was gone.