THE SMELL OF burning flesh and cigarette smoke permeated the air. Robin bit back a whimper as his skin seared and the pain grew, the heat unbearable. Though not so much as being forced to sit quietly and watch as Danny put out a cigarette out on the flesh of his arm.

“Maybe next time you’ll listen,” Danny said. He tried to act like what he was doing was necessary, merely the just punishment of an unruly child… but Robin knew better. The gleam in Danny’s eye as each ‘punishment’ grew successively worse was unmistakable; he was enjoying himself.

And yet even this was nothing compared to the pain Robin’s mother caused each time she turned a blind eye. She used to stand nearby while Danny played, a facade of concern from a woman who’d long ago given up trying to be a mother, but lately even that seemed too much effort.

That it still hurt after all this time was Robin’s own failing, and he wished for nothing more than to carve that expectation from his heart.

“Had enough yet, son?” Danny asked, flicking the cigarette out the open window. Where Danny had held the cigarette was now a patch of red skin that blistered and bubbled, and there was a cruel look in those blue chips of ice he called eyes that told Robin he was looking for a reason to keep going.

Anger swelled in Robin’s chest. He was only twelve, and though he’d recently learned how good it felt to use violence to solve his problems, Robin knew he didn’t stance a chance against an adult’s strength. The smart thing to do was lower his head. Submit. Beg for mercy. Danny would find other reasons to hurt him in the future, but he’d be safe for now.

And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. After all… pain was fleeting, but shame would stick in his chest worse than any knife.

Besides, he never claimed to be smart.

“Done already?” Robin scoffed. “What kinda pussy smokes one cigarette?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and in seconds he held another lit cigarette in his hands.

As the smoldering tip pressed to his skin, Robin forced himself to smile. “That’s more like it.”

Robin awoke to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling, the pain from the dream not only lingering, but intensifying with consciousness. His clothes stuck to him with sweat, the heat in the room almost overwhelming. The smell of cooked meat mixed with something sharp and sour on the stale air, along with a minty aroma his mind instantly associated with medicine.

Was he still dreaming? No—the sensations were too real. And Medea was there, hovering over him with concern and relief intermingling on her face. He didn’t miss the way she kept glancing at his side, and some distant part of his mind tried desperately to prevent him from looking. It was futile—he had to know.

Robin had no words for the pure dread he felt the moment he took in his wounds, the skin from his shoulder down to his chest as well as most of his arm burnt beyond recognition. There was a sick sense of familiarity as his mind registered the ruined flesh as part of himself.

He tried to move his arm, and regretted it immediately as a fresh wave of agony shot through him. But it had twitched, which hopefully meant he hadn’t lost motor function.

“Robin…” Medea said his name barely above a whisper. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

He looked at her like she’d grown two heads. “Huh…?”

She hesitantly motioned toward his wound. “I… I… attempted to clean it, but I do not think it helped much. It was only by Sesara’s quick action you kept your arm. I was entirely useless… and for that I am sorry.”

Robin ground his teeth together. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone had been so concerned over his wellbeing, and she was apologizing to him?

“Don’t,” Robin bit out. “We’re not gonna play pass the pity on this one. We both know I earned this. Hell, I deserve it.”

Medea shook her head, eyes still hidden behind the hood of her cloak. “You’re mistaken… You stood up and fought when others hid. Without you, I would not have had the courage to fight… and we would be dead.

Robin almost laughed. The girl was some kind of saint, honestly. Whether her words were true or not, they didn’t change the facts. He hadn’t meant to inspire anyone—he’d just charged in like an idiot. He was lucky to be alive.

Medea described to him battling the creature alone while Gedd and his family hid away in this very room, as well as the killing blow she’d managed to land on the thing’s exposed heart. In other words, she’d survived with quick wit and a healthy dose of luck.

He almost jumped out of the bed and wrung Gedd’s neck for leaving her to die, but he knew his rage was misdirected. Robin had known from the start Gedd would prioritize his family—expecting anything else was his own problem. And while Gedd would certainly make a convenient target for his anger, the truth was he’d fucked over Medea harder than anyone when he’d not only forced her into a fight, but had slept through the damn thing while she’d held on for dear life.

He shook his head in disgust, angry with everyone and everything. Medea for trying to shoulder the blame, Gedd for being an ill-prepared coward, Sesara for not letting him die… and most of all himself for completely failing to do even a single thing right. Apparently, some things never changed… no matter what fucking planet he was on.

The door opened, admitting Sesara into the room.

“You’re awake,” she said, eyes wide. She hurried to the bedside and pressed a hand to his forehead. “I heard you scream, but… well, you’ve been doing a lot of that since last night. How are you feeling?”

Robin shrugged, the movement causing him to wince in pain. “Been worse.” His response had been automatic, and at any other point in the past ten years it would’ve also been true.

Sesara shot him a skeptical look, but said nothing. She began unwrapping his bandages, revealing the source of the mint he’d been smelling as several large leaves pressed to his inflamed flesh.

“You’re healing well, which means the herbs are working. You’re fortunate my husband is a Forager—this is the closest to a healer’s medicine you’ll find in Lowrest.” Sesara peeled the leaves from his skin and began replacing them with fresh ones. “You likely won’t have to fear infection, but I must apologize now for the pain you will feel when the numbness wears off; the herb loses effectiveness as it is absorbed by the body. Warn me if you begin to feel lightheaded. Too much can pollute the blood.”

Robin nodded along, not truly listening to her words. It didn’t seem all that strange they’d have herbal remedies here, though there was no way to know if these were the homeopathic kind of leaves or the magical kind. He hoped it was the latter, because his wounds looked bad enough he didn’t see how a few leaves could possibly help. It was definitely the kind of thing he’d need surgery to repair on Earth.

“I figure I already know the answer… but what are the odds these leaves will, y’know… fix this?” Robin nodded toward his burns while staring at the good hand in his lap, not really wanting to see them again.

Sesara’s hesitation spoke of how likely that particular avenue of wish fulfillment was to appear.

“I… cannot say it is impossible… but if anyone were capable of such, it would be the Aetherlords within the barriers.”

In other words, not happening. Robin didn’t know what an Aetherlord was, but it wasn’t hard to guess; the rich, the powerful, the elite—whoever the plebes of Lowrest considered the height of power and prestige. The divide between classes throughout history on Earth had been bad, so it was difficult to imagine how magic would somehow improve matters. He couldn’t wait to see how narcissism manifested in people with the ability to alter reality on a whim.

Sure, maybe he was overestimating the influence magic had on society—he had yet to see any truly fantastical displays of magical prowess, after all—but it was magic. How could it exist and not be significant?

A familiar face poked through the door wearing a grim expression. “My love, we must—” Upon seeing Robin awake and aware, his eyes widened. “You’re awake… good. We didn’t know how to tell your companion we were leaving.”

“You are?” Robin was confused; he hadn’t realized they had anywhere to go. “Where?”

He shook his head. “Plainskeep, perhaps—if they don’t turn us away at the gates. We were lucky this time, but…” He trailed off, wincing as he glanced at Robin’s wounds. “More will come.”

Anywhere was better than here, then. Great. He wanted to ask if they’d have left them if Robin hadn’t awoken in time, but he already knew the kind of man Gedd was. It pissed him off, but only in a distant fuck this situation kind of way.

And maybe… some small part of him was envious. If Robin hadn’t already known what kind of man his father had been—the kind that walked away—maybe it would’ve been nice if he were a man like Gedd; one that put family first.

Still… that didn’t mean he had to like the prick.

Robin made to stand, gritting his teeth through the sudden intense pain in his side. The world began to spin, and Robin fell back onto the bed, startled by how uncooperative his body was being. Moving seemed to make things much worse.

Sesara watched him with a keen eye, checking his temperature once more. “You are feeling dizzy?”

Robin nodded, the motion making things feel wobbly and forcing him to swallow back the bile threatening to erupt. Medea watched in concern, but likely thought she’d only get in the way and remained standing quietly to the side.

With deft hands, Sesara began unraveling his bandages once more, peeling some of the leaves from his wound. “The herb—you’ve had too much. The dizziness will probably wear off in several hours… the numbness much sooner than that.”

Robin nodded, grimacing. That sounded… pleasant. It was clear he was in no fit state to travel, and he doubted Gedd had any desire to wait around for him to feel better.

As if sensing his thoughts, the man’s face grew severe. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Robin waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Just go.”

Gedd’s eyes widened as he studied Robin’s face, eventually giving a grave nod. “There… is a ruin in the trees beyond the village to the south. Our people don’t go inside, as it’s said to be guarded by a fierce beast.” He shook his head. “But that story has been told since my father was young. Truthfully, we don’t know the way in. But there are stories of men venturing inside, disappearing for weeks or months at a time. They say each returned changed somehow—more or less than what they once were.” Gedd sighed, turning away. “I’ll pray for your safety. Ouranos guide you, Traveler.”

Sesara watched the exchange between them, but had little to say until Gedd was gone. “Keep those on until nightfall, then replace them,” she handed him a small pack she’d filled with bandages and more herbs. “Do that every morning and evening until the wound is no longer inflamed. There should be enough here to get you through the worst of it, but the herb is common enough—should you need more, simply search the woods and match the leaves with what you already have.”

Robin gave a tired nod. “Thanks, but there’s something else I need.” His eyes flicked toward Medea, still watching curiously from the corner. “Take her with you.”

Sesara glanced between them. “You… are certain?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course… she is welcome to journey with us,” Sesara agreed, softly. The woman moved to the door, glancing back one final time… and then she was gone.

Robin appreciated her professionalism.

“They’ve been rushing around all day,” Medea began, sensing her moment to finally demand answers. “They’re leaving, aren’t they? Without us.”

“No. Without me.”

Medea’s brow furrowed as she puzzled over his meaning, and she went still. “No.”

Well, he hadn’t expected it to go easy.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Robin said, intentionally being harsher than necessary. “There’s some kind of zombie swarm headed our way, and I’m so hopped up on leaf juice I can’t move. You’ve already almost died because of me—don’t make the same mistake twice.”

Medea scowled beneath her hood. “I told you already that isn’t true. I know myself—without you, I would have trusted Gedd blindly and hidden away with his family. That monster would have eaten us all!”

“Maybe you’re right,” Robin said. “But that doesn’t change the current situation. More of those monsters are coming. I’m crippled and possibly high. You already saved my ass—now save your own.”

She stomped a foot and her hood fell away, revealing amethyst eyes brimming with unshed tears. “And if the situation were reversed? If I were lying on that bed instead of you? Would you leave me here to die?”

Robin didn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes.”

Medea reeled back, the anger bleeding from her features. “I… I don’t believe you.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” Robin laid back, staring up at the ceiling. “Remember what I told you, Medea. Everyone has to look out for themselves.”

The room was thrust into silence as Robin pointedly stared at the ceiling, refusing to tear his gaze away from it. In time, the door creaked open once more—Sesara coming to inform them her family was leaving.

When it closed next, Robin was alone.