I had never been out of Sumeru before—had never left its forestry expanse. One would think that after spending one's whole life in Sumeru, one would know everything about the place—including how to recognise, avoid and deal with the most devastating of circumstances.

But unfortunately, as I had just found out, that sentiment was wrong.

My breathing was ragged, non-stop coughing filling the air. It would've done me good to stop and rest myself—if I were in a normal part of the forest. But I was not. I could not stop. Even though running depleted my body of its life, I could not stop. I had to at least try—try to get out of where I was.

This part of the forest was cursed. By what, I did not know. I hated that—hated not knowing what to do. I had always known what to do before today, but now, when I really needed that wisdom and knowledge, it failed to come to me. I'd heard of this phenomenon occurring all across Sumeru's forests, but not once did I believe I would be caught up in one.

What was it called again? Oh, right.

A Withering Zone.

I stumbled, my feet tripping over each other as I struggled across the uneven ground. I could not stop. Do not stop. Cannot stop.

My vision had begun to blur a few minutes ago, inhibiting my escape. But now... I could barely see at all. I staggered forward, my body slamming against a wall of rock. I knew that I should have kept running. I knew that I could not afford to take a break but... my body was in such dizzying agony.

I took heavy uneven breaths as I leaned against the rock, trying to regain my stamina. Even though I could barely see, even though I could barely breathe, I would get out. I had to.

A violent cough left my mouth and I lurched forward, instinctively covering my face with my hand. And as I lowered it... I winced. I did not need to be able to see to know what the warm substance was that coated my hand. Blood.

I coughed again—and this time, it didn't stop. I found myself lowering to the ground as the coughing fit continued, blood, phlegm, bile and whatever else being hurled out of my mouth. I couldn't stop the tears that flowed down my cheeks, the sobs that accompanied my sporadic breaths.

I hit the ground. No doubt I was lying in my own waste. But I was in too much pain to move. I must've been going insane because little creatures that looked like cabbages appeared in the gloom at the edges of my fraying vision, whispers drifting in the air between us.

It is Marana. We must help.

"Please," I sobbed, throat tight and parched. "Please..." The words were barely above a high-pitched whisper. I didn't know who I was begging for help or what I expected to happen. Perhaps I only wanted release from my suffering.

Rescue. Quickly. Hurry. We must take her to Nara.

Even if it meant the sweet release of death.

⁜※⁜

I had felt the throbbing pain even as I fell unconscious. It was the only thing that reminded me I was still alive, even as the rest of the world became intangible to my being. Only darkness remained. I could not feel, could not think, could not see, could not hear—nothing. There was only nothing, save for the aching that resounded through my body, the only thing able to pierce the darkness.

I had wondered how much longer it would last—how much longer I would last. Did I even want to? For if I were to awaken, the wave of pain would come crashing down on me with all its might—torturing me, tormenting me. Until there was nothing left to eat away at. Until all that remained were the dying embers of my will to live—and the despair I would feel when I realised my story had come to a close.

But then I felt it. I wasn't sure how long it had been, but I felt something. Physical touch.

And slowly, I awoke. Sure enough, the affliction I felt upon becoming conscious was agonising and I cried out, my body curling into itself as if that would somehow ease the pain. "Please..." I whispered.

I slowly opened my silver-lined eyes. And I saw my hand, my fist clenched. I unfurled my hand and gazed at my fingers through cloudy eyes. They had been cleaned. Gone was the blood. Only soft gleaming skin remained.

I heard a soft hush from above and felt a hand continue to stroke my head—the touch that I had woken to. "It's alright. You're ok, now." I didn't bother to look up at the bearer of the voice.

"Please... It hurts..."

Those fingers continued to run through my dishevelled hair, dragging themselves through knots that stung as the tension was suddenly released. But that was only a slight annoyance compared to what my body was feeling. "You will be ok," said the voice. "Please do not worry. I am here to take care of you."

I swallowed. Even that small motion invited a horrible prickling sensation in my throat. "It hurts." I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would somehow block out the pain. Please...

A hum from above, and then, "Collei. She needs more medicine." The words barely registered above the roaring in my head.

"There's only one dose left. Would you like me to make more?"

"I'll do it. Tend to the other more stable patients. She'll need my full attention—at least for now."

"Yes, Master."

I heard the rustle of tent flaps and then the second presence was gone. I was alone with the calming voice—with the soothing hands that continued to stroke and massage my head. I could barely make sense of the conversation that had passed between the two presences. It felt as if I were underwater, all sounds muffled beyond recognition.

"It hurts..." I whispered again. I didn't know what else to do—how to ease the pain. And so I cried. I hated it. I hated it! I hated not knowing how to help myself. I hated being as vulnerable as a newborn child. I hated the feeling of the agony that washed through my body, unable to be relieved except by the graceful yet slow hands of Time. Everything—I hated it! "I... I'm tired..." I didn't know who I was speaking to or if anyone was listening. Or if anything around me was even real. My breath hitched at the thought. "Please..."

The hand that stroked my hair paused, coming to rest atop my head. Another hand lowered in front of me into my line of vision. "Hold my hand," said the voice. I did as told, lifting a shaking hand towards it. No matter how much I willed it to stop, it would not, trembling furiously. Those pale fingers wrapped around mine, rubbing them gently. "Do you feel my touch?"

The words barely registered but I nodded, blankets rustling beneath my head. "Yes."

"Focus on that touch. Focus on my grip."

So I did. "Am I... alive? Is this..." I trailed off, unable to voice my fears.

"Everything you see, hear and feel around you is real. The voice you hear—that is real. I am real. And so are you." It took all I had to focus on the voice—to make out the words and interpret them. The voice paused, before adding, "I hear your cries. I will help you."

I took a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself and my tears, but the movement only invited more pain. A low whine seeped through and I gritted my teeth, gripping the blankets beneath me. I was alive. This was real. And so was that tormenting sensation.

"Calm... calm..." the voice instructed.

"It hurts so much." My voice was barely audible above my sobs.

"It will take time for your body to heal."

"No... No no, please, no..." I couldn't bear any more of this.

"You will be ok. Your body is still recovering from the trauma inflicted by the Withering Zone."

"Help me..." I begged the voice. "Please, I can't—"

"I will help you. I promise." The grip on my hand tightened and I focused on the touch—focused on anything but the burning sensation within my body. Like I was being destroyed from the inside-out. A pause, and then: "I need to let go to get your medicine."

My nails dug into the hand I held in protest. "No, no, please... Don't let go. Don't—don't leave."

"I'm not going far."

"No! Please—I can't—" The fear overtaking my being grew, only adding to the pain, and it was more than I had ever felt. I knew it was completely irrational. But I couldn't think properly. I needed that presence—needed that touch—to remind me that I was safe and alive.

"I'm letting go now."

I screamed out in protest, my nails digging in hard enough for me to feel warm blood run down my fingers—blood that wasn't mine. The voice made a soft noise—a noise of weakness and pain. And I froze. I let go, letting the hand slip from mine, forcing my cries down to a mere whimper. "I'm sorry..." I whispered, gaze focused on my slightly bloodied hand.

"It—it's ok." The break and hesitation in the voice's words caused my throat to tighten with guilt.

I was still as I heard footsteps sound throughout the room as the bearer of the voice walked away. Not far, as it had promised. But still far away enough for me to be afraid. I trembled, trying to contain my sobs. After what felt like an eternity, the bearer of the voice walked back.

"Open your mouth." I did as told and felt a spoon slide inside. "Drink." So I did.

I steeled myself for the pain—for the agonising sensation I had felt earlier when I swallowed. But it didn't happen. I felt no pain—only the cooling of the medicinal liquid against my throat, nourishing it. I almost... laughed at how it tickled my throat with its gentle healing hands.

The bearer of the voice withdrew the spoon, before putting it back in with another dose. "Again."

I sipped on the liquid, this time assessing its taste. It was a sweet flavour, tasting of forest berries. It was a familiar taste that I had come to know with all my years spent in the greens of Sumeru. My body relaxed ever-so-slightly.

"I'm sorry." The words were barely a breath.

I felt that hand on my head again, stroking it with a tenderness that I recognised but could not pinpoint exactly whose touch it belonged to. "It's ok... I promise." The voice paused. "Do you... recognise me?"

"H—huh..?" The pain had subsided just enough for me to think clearly and I tried to make sense of the question. Recognise someone... who I didn't know? "What—"

"Y/n." I started at the use of my name. It seemed that... the voice really did know me. "Look at me," the voice instructed. I turned my head ever-so-slightly, grimacing at the motion, and I found myself facing eyes that faded from brown to the brightest of greens. They were clear, unfaltering. "Do you recognise me?"

I reached up to caress the fair skin that covered the figure's body, rubbing my thumb near that beautiful pair of eyes. "Eyes of the forest..." I murmured, recalling something that seemed like a memory. I had... seen those eyes before—said that phrase.

The figure nodded. "That's right. Eyes of the forest. You—you know me, Y/n."

"Do I?" My voice was soft, trying so hard to cleave through the pain and organise my thoughts so that I could remember—remember anything apart from the dismal moments I had thought were to be my last.

The light in those Archon-blessed eyes guttered and the figure breathed, "Yes. Yes, you do." The figure's hand reached up to mine, covering it. Something like worry flashed in those forestry eyes. "You know me, Y/n... We... we..." The figure swallowed and I moved to twine my fingers in dark green hair, trying to get a feel of who this person was.

But I couldn't. I couldn't remember. The figure seemed to read that in my eyes and turned away, abject despair written all over that beautiful face. The figure slipped out of my touch and walked back to the table lining the other side of the room. I reached out with a small gasp. Don't leave me.

But back turned, the figure couldn't see me—wouldn't return to me. And so I sucked in a breath and steeled myself.

And stood.

My body barked in pain—so much pain. It flooded my body, the smooth wooden floor feeling like shards of broken glass on my bare feet. I suppressed the scream I knew was rising as I felt as if the tender skin beneath my foot was being cleaved apart fibre by fibre, shredding like ribbons in an ocean of crooked nails. But I staggered forwards toward the figure. Don't leave me. Let me see you. Let me remember you.

The figure quickly turned upon hearing my approach, taking a step to grab and steady me. "What are you—"

The figure was cut off as I tried again to remember. A soft determination was present in my eyes as my fingers moved up and up the side of the figure's head, before reaching the base of... ears. Tall ears that protruded from the figure's head.

And I stopped. Waited. Something tugged at me—another memory, perhaps—telling me that I should wait. That I shouldn't touch those delicate protrusions. The figure's breath hitched as my fingers landed next to the base of those ears, waiting. And I felt the figure lean into my touch. "You may..." the figure whispered, eyes closing.

My fingers slowly travelled up the length of the figure's ears, soft to the touch. I rubbed lightly against them in a particular spot that I somehow knew was a sweet spot—an area safe to touch. And the figure smiled.

"What... was I to you?" I finally asked, captivated by that soft smile.

"You were..." The figure's eyes opened and I was swept away by that gaze, sad and longing, as was that smile.

I met the figure's gaze. Don't feel sad...

Something flickered in the figure's forest-graced eyes. "You were... my beloved."

"Beloved?" I whispered.

"My one and only."

Silence, and then: "T...Tighnari..?"

The Forest Watcher's eyes brightened at the mention of his name. "You... you remember..."

My breath hitched as I realised that I had indeed remembered. "Tighnari..." I said again, as if savouring the name on my tongue. His name... his memory... our memories... They were sweeter than the medicine, sweeter than any berry I had ever tasted. And they became my tether to this world—my anchor so I would not be swept away by the ocean of pain I was once drowning in. "Tighnari."

"Yes?"

"I..." A breath shuddered from me. "I remember you. And I am your beloved—not were."

Silver lined his eyes and I reached up for him, arms closing around him in a hug. And I ignored the pain that wrenched through my body, no matter how agonising it was. Because he mattered more—he had always mattered more. And always would.

"Don't cry," I murmured onto his shoulder, containing my own tears as my muscles groaned in protest. But I would not retreat back into a fetal position. Not when he needed me. Not when I needed him. "Don't cry, Tighnari..."

I felt his hold around me tighten as he returned the hug. "I thought I would lose you..."

I gripped the back of his shirt. "Never... I'll always find my way back to you."

He nodded onto my shoulder. In reply, I pressed my lips against his neck, brushing aside his curtain of hair. And I found myself being swept into his arms—gently, carefully—as he carried me back to the bed. He lowered me gently on top of it, my head coming to rest on his lap as he continued to stroke my head.

"Are... Is your hand ok?" I asked, staring up at him.

He offered a soft smile and nodded. "It's fine. Just a few scratches. Collei will help me bandage it."

"I can do that for you."

He shook his head. "Just rest, my love. Rest your body."

I nodded, then said, "Thank you... for helping me."

Tighnari offered no reply, only leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on my forehead in answer. But the words were still there, hanging in the air between us, present in the lingering touch on my forehead. You're welcome, my love.

⁜※⁜

A/N: Hello, my friends! Chapter's out a bit later than usual. Apologies for that—but you didn't think I had forgotten, did you?

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Completed: 6-09-23
Published: 25-09-23
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Fanart credits: https://www.artstation.com/artwork/eJ8O4X