Chapter 1
The sea should have killed her.
Bri knew that much.
It had swallowed the ship whole—snapped its spine like dry wood, dragged screaming bodies into the dark, and chewed through everything that had ever felt solid in her life. The storm hadn’t just been loud. It had been hungry.
And yet—
She was breathing.
Barely.
Sand scratched her cheek as the tide dragged itself away, as if reconsidering whether it wanted her back.
Bri didn’t move at first. Moving meant feeling. Feeling meant remembering.
And remembering meant—
No.
She inhaled sharply. Salt burned her throat.
Alive.
That was… new.
⸻
When she finally rolled onto her back, the sky above her was a pale, unfamiliar blue. No smoke. No shouting. No footsteps outside a locked door.
Just sky.
Her fingers twitched, searching instinctively for something to hold onto—rope, wood, anything—but found only damp sand and scattered shells.
Everything was gone.
Except—
Her hand tightened around it.
The bow.
Still slung across her back. The string was wet, but intact. A small quiver of arrows clung stubbornly to her side.
Bri let out a weak, disbelieving laugh.
“Of course,” she muttered. “Of all things.”
The one thing she’d been told she wasn’t allowed to use unless ordered.
The one thing she’d practiced in secret.
The one thing that had made her feel—
Not helpless.
⸻
She pushed herself upright.
The beach stretched wide and empty, framed by jagged cliffs and a dense wall of forest behind her. No wreckage. No bodies.
No witnesses.
A strange, quiet thought slipped into her mind.
No one is coming to find you.
Her chest tightened.
Then something else followed.
No one is coming to take you back, either.
That feeling was harder to name.
Relief… tangled with fear.
Freedom, she realized, wasn’t soft. It was sharp. It cut just as easily as anything else.
⸻
By the time the sun dipped lower, Bri had dragged herself to the edge of the forest.
Every step felt like a decision she didn’t know how to make.
Stay on the beach—risk exposure.
Go into the forest—risk everything else.
She stared at the tree line. The shadows between the trunks looked like they were waiting.
“Pick one,” she told herself quietly.
Her voice sounded strange. Unused.
“…Pick one, Bri.”
No one answered.
So she did.
⸻
The forest swallowed her.
Not violently. Not quickly.
Just enough to make the world behind her disappear.
The air changed first—cooler, thicker. The scent of salt gave way to damp earth and something faintly sweet, like crushed leaves.
Bri moved slowly, every muscle tense. Her ears strained for anything—footsteps, voices, danger.
Nothing.
Only the occasional rustle of branches and the distant call of something she couldn’t name.
Good.
Unknown was better than familiar.
⸻
She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she saw the deer.
It stood between two trees, head lowered, completely unaware of her.
Bri froze.
Her fingers moved automatically—pulling an arrow, nocking it, drawing the bowstring back.
Her arms trembled.
Not from weakness.
From memory.
Don’t miss.
The voice wasn’t here.
But it was still loud.
She shut her eyes for half a second.
Then opened them.
The world narrowed.
The deer.
The distance.
The breath in her chest.
She released.
⸻
The arrow struck clean.
The deer collapsed almost instantly.
For a moment, Bri just stood there, staring.
Then—
A shaky, disbelieving smile spread across her face.
“I did that.”
No one corrected her.
No one told her it wasn’t good enough.
No one told her to do it again.
⸻
Night came faster than she expected.
By the time she’d managed to drag the deer to a small clearing and clumsily prepare a fire, the forest had turned into something else entirely.
Every shadow moved.
Every sound meant something.
Her hands shook as she worked, but she forced herself to keep going.
Fire. Food. Shelter.
Simple.
Manageable.
Possible.
⸻
But sleep—
Sleep was different.
Bri sat with her back against a tree, bow clutched tightly in her hands.
Her eyes refused to close.
Every time they did, she saw water.
Or worse.
Doors.
Hands.
Voices that didn’t belong in this quiet place.
“You’re fine,” she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
“Bri, you’re fine. You’re fine. You’re—”
A twig snapped somewhere in the darkness.
She went completely still.
Heart hammering.
Listening.
Nothing followed.
No footsteps. No breathing.
Still—
She didn’t sleep.
Not even for a second.
⸻
When morning came, it felt like something she had earned.
Bri stood slowly, her body aching but functional.
“I survived,” she said aloud.
It sounded more real this time.
Her bow rested against her back, heavier than it should have been—and still the only thing that felt certain.
She looked deeper into the forest.
And for the first time—
She chose to keep going.
⸻
She hadn’t been walking long when she saw him.
An old man.
Just… standing there.
As if he had always been there.
As if the forest had grown him.
Bri stopped instantly, arrow drawn before she even realized she’d moved.
The man didn’t react.
Didn’t flinch.
Didn’t even seem surprised.
Instead, he smiled.
Not wide. Not sharp.
Just… calm.
“Tranquilla,” he said, voice warm and steady, “that’s one way to say hello.”
Bri didn’t lower the bow.
“Don’t come closer.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he replied easily.
A pause.
Then—
“You look like you’ve had a rough morning.”
Bri blinked.
Morning?
It felt like she’d lived a lifetime already.
“…Who are you?” she asked.
The man tilted his head slightly.
“Name’s Pablo.”
He gestured vaguely behind him.
“I’ve got a few friends nearby. We try not to let people wander around here alone. It tends to end badly.”
Bri tightened her grip on the bow.
“I’m fine.”
Pablo nodded.
“Clearly. You’re pointing a weapon at an old man. That’s usually a good sign.”
That… wasn’t the response she expected.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
“I don’t need help.”
“Didn’t say you did.”
Another pause.
Then, gently—
“But you might want company.”
⸻
The word hit harder than it should have.
Company.
Bri swallowed.
Her arms began to ache from holding the bow drawn.
“…Why would you help me?”
Pablo’s smile softened.
“Same reason I help anyone.”
He shrugged lightly.
“Because someone should.”
⸻
Silence stretched between them.
Bri searched his face for something—anything—dangerous.
But there was no edge. No demand.
Just patience.
It unsettled her more than anything else.
“…Who are your friends?” she asked slowly.
Pablo chuckled.
“A chaotic bunch. You’ll like them.”
“I won’t.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “They’ll like you, then.”
⸻
Bri hesitated.
Then—
Slowly—
She lowered the bow.
Not completely.
Just enough.
“…I’ll meet them,” she said. “But if this is a mistake—”
Pablo raised his hands slightly.
“Then you can shoot me. Seems fair.”
A beat.
“…You’re very trusting,” Bri muttered.
“No,” Pablo said lightly.
“I’m just old enough to know when someone’s more scared than dangerous.”
⸻
Bri stiffened.
“I’m not scared.”
“Of course not.”
He turned, gesturing for her to follow.
“Come on, Bri.”
She froze.
“…I didn’t tell you my name.”
Pablo glanced back, a small, knowing smile on his face.
“You didn’t have to.”
⸻
For a moment, Bri considered running.
Disappearing back into the forest.
Staying alone.
Safe.
Free.
⸻
Instead—
She followed him.
And didn’t look back.
