Chapter 2 – Lost and Unwanted

The night stretched endlessly before him.

Adrian trudged forward, his body battered by exhaustion, his legs barely holding him upright. His once-pristine clothing, tailored to perfection in a life that now seemed like a distant dream, hung off his frame in ragged pieces. Dirt clung to his boots, his breath came out in ragged gasps, and his skin burned with fever.

But the worst part wasn’t the pain—it was the silence.

The absence of voices that once called his name with love. The emptiness left by the people who should have stood by him but instead turned their backs the moment his body changed.

He remembered the whispers that followed him through the grand halls of his estate, the way his father’s expression hardened when the first darkened veins appeared along his jaw.

"You have brought shame to this family, Adrian."

His mother had been no better. She wouldn’t even look at him.

But Seraphina—her betrayal cut the deepest.

The woman he had once loved, the one he had planned to build a future with, had been the first to recoil from him. He still remembered the way her lips curled in disgust, the hesitation in her touch when she last held his hand.

"I can't be with someone like you," she had said, her voice laced with cruel finality. "You're not the same anymore. You're... disgusting now."

Disgusting.

That word had followed him ever since.

Now, with nowhere left to go, Adrian wandered aimlessly, barely aware of the weight of his own body. His fever had worsened, blurring the edges of his vision. His limbs ached, hunger clawed at his stomach, and each step felt heavier than the last.

Then, he saw it.

In the distance, through the heavy mist rolling over the hills, a small village came into view. Smoke curled from chimneys, dim lanterns flickered in the night, and houses stood close together, their rustic charm untouched by the corruption of the outside world.

It wasn’t much.

But it was far enough from everything that had destroyed him.

With his last shred of strength, Adrian pushed forward, praying that maybe—just maybe—he could disappear here.

The moment he stepped into the village, he knew he wasn’t welcome.

It wasn’t just the stares—it was the way people moved away from him.

A woman walking with her child suddenly changed direction. A group of men near a tavern fell silent, their conversation halting as they watched him approach. Even the stray dogs that roamed the dirt paths hesitated, their ears flattening as if sensing something unnatural about him.

He tried not to react. He had seen this before.

Still, the sting of rejection never dulled.

Adrian made his way to the first place he saw—a small shop with sacks of grain and barrels of water stacked outside. An older man, with weathered skin and sharp eyes, stood behind the counter.

Adrian pulled his hood lower, stepping forward. “I just need some water.” His voice came out raspy, barely more than a whisper.

The shopkeeper’s gaze flicked to his face, his brows furrowing at the darkened veins along his jaw.

“We don’t have any,” the man said, his voice cold.

Adrian’s gaze darted to the barrels behind him, full of water.

“I’ll pay.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a gold coin—one of the last few he had.

The man’s lips curled in distaste. “We don’t take gold from people like you.”

A harsh silence settled between them. Adrian clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the coin.

He turned and walked away.

The rejection continued at every door he knocked on. The bakery refused to serve him. The innkeeper refused to rent him a room. Even the church, with its glowing lanterns and open doors, ignored him when he approached.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the village, he could barely stand.

His body collapsed against the frame of an abandoned barn, his breath ragged.

This was it.

There was nowhere left to go.

From the window of her cottage, she watched him.

She had seen the moment he arrived—the way people shunned him, their expressions shifting to suspicion and unease.

She knew that look.

It was the same look people had given her when she first came to this village years ago.

She had been alone for so long, left with nothing but memories of a family lost to tragedy.

She had been forced to survive, to create a life for herself in solitude. She had no neighbors, no friends. Only the animals she cared for—the injured fox she had nursed back to health, the old stray dog that followed her home one evening, the small birds that gathered near her window each morning.

She understood loneliness better than anyone.

So when she saw the stranger collapse by the barn, something inside her stirred.

Without hesitation, she grabbed a flask of water and a piece of bread before heading outside.

As she approached him, she hesitated.

He was beautiful—or at least, he had been once.

Beneath the dirt, the sickness, and the dark veins that marred his skin, there was a man who had once been extraordinary.

She knelt beside him, holding out the water.

"You need to drink," she said softly.

His eyes fluttered open—cold, guarded, full of pain.

And just as she expected, he pushed her away.

Adrian’s glare was sharp despite his weakness.

"I don’t need your pity," he rasped.

She didn’t move. She had expected this.

"It’s not pity," she said simply, placing the water beside him. "It’s just a choice. Take it or leave it."

He expected her to linger, to plead with him. But instead, she simply stood and walked away.

Adrian stared after her.

His pride screamed at him to ignore the food.

But his hunger won.

With trembling hands, he grabbed the bread.

And for the first time in days, he didn’t feel completely empty.

By morning, he was worse.

He barely noticed her return until he felt her hand on his forehead.

"You’re burning up," she murmured. "You won’t last like this."

A bitter laugh escaped him. "I’ve lasted this long."

"Not well."

He felt her shift, attempting to lift him. His body tensed.

"You don’t have to help me," he muttered.

"I know," she answered, voice steady. "But I will."

As she dragged him toward her cottage, he surrendered.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t alone.