CHAPTER 397: LOST ESSENCE

Vincent/Vaelthor~

I woke up to a world that felt like a dream woven from wood and whispers. My eyelids fluttered open, heavy as if weighted with stones, and the first thing that hit me was the scent—sweet, like sun-warmed honey mixed with fresh rain on pine needles. It wrapped around me, comforting yet unfamiliar, pulling me from the depths of whatever void I’d been lost in. My body ached, a dull throb echoing through every muscle, but it was nothing compared to the fog in my mind. Who was I? What had happened? The questions swirled like smoke, elusive and choking.

Who am I?

The room—no, the house—surrounded me like a living entity. It seemed carved from the heart of a massive tree, the walls curving organically, etched with intricate patterns that mimicked vines and leaves frozen in eternal growth. Sunlight filtered through high, arched windows made of some translucent bark, creating golden dapples across the wooden floorboards that gleamed with a natural polish. The bed I lay on was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its frame twisted from branches that still bore faint knots and whorls, draped in soft linens that smelled of lavender and earth. Everything here breathed life—wooden shelves lined with carved bowls, a hearth built from stacked logs that crackled softly with a low fire, even the ceiling arching like a canopy of intertwined roots. It was breathtaking, a sanctuary hidden in nature’s embrace, yet it stirred no recognition in me. I felt like an intruder in this beauty, lost and adrift.

And then there was him. A tall figure stood across the room, his back to me as he stirred something in a wooden pot over the fire. He was handsome in a way that defied description—strong jawline, broad shoulders that spoke of unyielding power, hair the color of burnished gold falling in waves to his collar. He moved with a grace that was both predatory and gentle, like a lion tending to its cub. His presence radiated mystery, an aura of secrets veiled in kindness, and when he turned, his eyes caught the light—warm amber, glowing like bottled sunlight, drawing me in despite my confusion. He looked young, perhaps thirty, but there was an ageless quality to him, as if time itself bowed in his presence.

He noticed me stirring and approached the bed with deliberate steps, his boots silent on the wooden floor. Up close, that sweet scent intensified, soothing the raw edges of my weakness. He knelt beside me, his large hand reaching out with surprising tenderness. His fingers brushed my forehead, cool and steady, checking my temperature like a parent would a feverish child. The touch sent a shiver through me—not from fear, but from an inexplicable sense of safety.

"You’re awake," he said, his voice deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder wrapped in velvet. A small smile tugged at his lips, revealing perfect teeth that gleamed. "That’s good. You’ve been out for days. How do you feel?"

I blinked up at him, my throat dry and scratchy. My mind raced, grasping for fragments of memory, but they slipped away like shadows at dawn. "I... I don’t know. Confused. Weak. Who... who are you?"

He straightened slightly, his amber eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart stutter. There was that mysterious vibe again—kind, yes, but layered with depths I couldn’t fathom, like sunlight piercing through storm clouds. "My name is Rayma. And you, young one? What’s yours?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came. No name, no past, just a void where identity should be. Panic clawed at my chest, sharp and unrelenting. "I... I can’t remember. How do I know you? What happened to me?"

Rayma’s expression softened, a flicker of sympathy crossing his features. He sat on the edge of the bed, the wood creaking faintly under his weight, and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Easy now. I don’t know you—not personally, at least. I was out on a walk through the woods, the kind where the trees whisper secrets and the wind carries warnings. That’s when I found you. You’d been poisoned by hunters—ruthless ones, from the look of it. They left you for dead in the underbrush, convulsing and fading. I couldn’t just leave you there. Brought you here, to my home."

"Poisoned?" The word tasted bitter on my tongue, stirring a phantom burn in my veins. I glanced down at myself, seeing bandages wrapped around my arms, faint stains of what might have been blood or herbs seeping through. But no memories surfaced—just the weakness, the ache. "Hunters... why? What did I do?"

He shook his head, his golden hair catching the light like a halo. "I don’t know your story, but the world is full of cruelties aimed at those who are... different. You don’t have to remember everything right now. All you need to do is rest and recuperate. Your body’s been through hell, the poison did a lot of damage, but it’ll heal."

I nodded slowly, though confusion gnawed at me. "What do you mean, different? And the poison... what did it do to me?"

Rayma’s gaze grew more serious, his voice lowering as if sharing a grave secret. He leaned in closer, that sweet scent enveloping me like a protective cloak. "The venom they used—it was crafted for demons, or something like them. Nasty stuff, brewed from holy herbs and divine essences that eat away at the core of what you are. I managed to draw most of it out of your system with some old remedies—potions from roots and moonlight-infused waters. But it did damage. A lot of it. Your natural essence... it’s been scarred. Erased, in a way. Your scent is gone completely—no trace of whatever species you were. And with it, the traits of your heritage. Strength, powers, whatever gifts you carried—they’re suppressed, maybe lost for good. It’s hard for anyone, even me, to tell what you are now. You’re like a blank slate, hidden from the world’s prying eyes."

His words hung in the air, heavy and incomprehensible. Species? Essence? It sounded like something from a forgotten tale, yet a deep sadness welled up inside me, unbidden. Not from the loss he described—I couldn’t grasp what I’d lost if I didn’t remember it—but from a hollow ache in my soul. "I... I don’t understand. Why does that sound so... sad?"

Before I could process it, Rayma pulled me into a hug. His arms were strong, enveloping me like a shield against the world, warm and steady. The contact was calming, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that coaxed my racing heart to slow. "Shh, it’s alright," he murmured into my hair, his voice a soothing balm. "I’ll protect you. You’re safe here with me. No hunters, no poisons, no judgments. Just rest. Stop crying now."

Crying? I hadn’t realized until he said it. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, soaking into his shirt. But they weren’t from the erased essence or the forgotten past. No, this pain was deeper, a wrenching agony in my heart that I couldn’t name. It felt like I’d lost something precious—a connection, a love, perhaps—torn away and leaving a gaping wound. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, sobs wracking my frail body. "It hurts... so much. What did I lose? Why does it feel like my heart’s breaking?"

Rayma held me tighter, one hand gently stroking my back in slow circles. "The body remembers what the mind forgets. Pain like that... it comes from the soul. Maybe a strong bond severed, or a heart betrayed. But you don’t have to face it alone. Let it out, then let it go for now. We’ll figure it out together."

I cried harder, the tears a torrent that seemed endless, each one carrying fragments of that inexplicable grief. The wooden house around us felt like a cocoon, the fire’s crackle a distant lullaby. Finally, the sobs ebbed, leaving me exhausted but strangely cleansed. Rayma pulled back slightly, his amber eyes searching mine with that bottled-sun warmth. He reached up, his thumb wiping away the lingering tears with a tenderness that made my chest tighten anew.

"There now," he said softly, a hint of a smile returning. "Better? You need a name, something to hold onto while the memories hide. How about... Star? Like the lights that pierce the darkest nights. It suits you—bright, even in this confusion."

"Star," I repeated, testing the word. It felt foreign, yet right, a spark in the void. A small, watery laugh escaped me—funny how a stranger could gift something so personal. "Star. Okay... I like it. Thank you, Rayma."

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, lightening the heavy air. "Good. Now, Star, you’ve been sleeping too long. Come, join me by the fire. I’ve got stew simmering—venison with wild herbs and roots from the forest. It’ll build your strength back up. Can you stand?"

I nodded, though my legs wobbled like a newborn fawn’s as he helped me to my feet. The wooden floor was smooth under my bare soles, cool and grounding. As we moved toward the hearth, the house’s beauty enveloped me again—the way the light danced on the carved walls, the faint scent of sap mingling with the stew’s savory aroma. Rayma guided me to a low wooden table, settling me on a cushioned bench before ladling out two bowls.

"Eat slow," he advised, sitting across from me with his own bowl. "Your body’s still mending. Tell me, Star—any flashes? Images, feelings?"

I took a spoonful, the flavors exploding on my tongue—rich, earthy, with a hint of that sweet scent that seemed to emanate from him. "Nothing clear. Just... this pain. Like I left someone behind. Or hurt them."

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes reflecting the fire’s glow. "Time will tell. For now, you’re here, safe. That’s what matters."

We ate in companionable silence after that, the mystery of Rayma hanging between us like a promise. Who was he, really? And what had I truly lost? The questions lingered, but for the first time since waking, a flicker of hope stirred—like a star emerging in the night sky.