Little Pink Starfish

Where am I?

Breathing hard, Nyne looked around and realized that this place, surprisingly, felt familiar. Even in the thick darkness, he could clearly see the trickling stream and trees scattering moonlight. It was the forest clearing where they had eaten during the hunt earlier today.

“Why… why am I here…?”

Groaning as a splitting headache pierced him, Nyne pressed a hand to his forehead. The pain stung deeply. When he looked at his hands, they were covered in dirt, and dark red blood was oozing from open wounds. One fingernail was missing. Unbelievably, it seemed he had been desperately digging at the earth until his fingers were mangled and torn. Yet despite being the one who had done it, he remembered nothing and couldn’t understand what was going on.

He was sure he had been sleeping in his bed. It had just been a terrible nightmare. Absentmindedly, Nyne touched his chest. He had never been stabbed before, yet it felt so real—as though it had actually happened—that it gave him chills.

“Ugh…”

As he touched his body, an unexplainable wave of despair washed over him. He covered his face and began to sob. His body trembled as if from chills. Curled up tightly, he suddenly felt eyes watching him and lifted his head.

Between the dark trees, golden eyes stared at him.

Nyne froze as he remembered the same eyes, satisfied as they had watched him die. Was the nightmare happening again in reality? Staggering, he barely managed to get to his feet. Just then, the owner of the golden eyes stepped out, calling his name.

“Nyne.”

“Don’t come near me!”

Panicked, Nyne screamed and ran. He tripped, then quickly stood again, thinking someone had grabbed him from behind. He kept running, glancing back repeatedly, until he slammed hard into something solid. Thinking a priest was trying to seize him, he struggled violently—until a familiar voice soothed him.

“Sha Nyne, please calm down. It’s me—Iyu.”

“Uhh, hhh…”

Finally regaining some sense, Nyne looked up and recognized the person. Grasping tightly onto Iyu, who held him firmly, Nyne cried out.

“Iyu! There’s a monster! A monster trying to kill me!”

“L-Lord Nyne…”

Iyu’s voice trembled with confusion. Clearly not knowing what to do, he knelt down, startled to see Nyne’s hands covered in blood and dirt. He gently took Nyne’s arm.

“Sha Nyne, that person… is Sha Amon.”

“W-What…?”

Nyne shook his head, panting. He couldn’t believe it. Those were the eyes of a beast—how could that be Amon? Iyu softly explained again.

“Sha Amon came to look for you personally. It’s dark in the forest, that’s why you were mistaken. Please, look again carefully.”

Shaking with fear, Nyne turned around. The golden eyes that hadn’t blinked once still stared at him. Only after seeing the moonlight washing over the non-human face did he finally realize it really was Amon.

“L-Lord Amon…”

Nyne muttered the name, finally recognizing reality. But instead of feeling relieved, his fear only deepened. Amon silently scanned Nyne’s appearance—his disheveled state, wearing only a thin robe, scratched bare feet, and hands caked with blood and dirt, eyes full of fear.

Amon’s gaze dimmed—not in shock, but as though he were looking at something familiar. Then, in a cold voice, he gave an order.

“We’ve found Nyne. Let’s return.”

“Yes, Sha!”

Only then did Nyne realize there were other priests around. Their lanterns and torches lit up the forest that had seemed like a pit of hell. Finally, fully free from the nightmare, Nyne staggered. Amon stood still in place, watching as Nyne clung to Iyu.

“Sha Nyne, you look exhausted. If you will allow it, this servant wishes to carry you.”

Nyne’s legs ached as if he had been running without rest, and his throat was dry. He gave a faint nod. Iyu carefully lifted him in his arms. As Amon began to walk, Iyu and the warrior priests followed.

Exhausted, Nyne dozed in and out on the way back. Shadows of the forest flickered across his dim vision. When he came to, they had already reached the tent camp. In the open clearing, everyone who should’ve been asleep—Resha, the priests, and even the slaves—was awake, kneeling in silence with pale faces. Nyne’s sudden disappearance in the night had caused alarm.

“N-Ny—Nyne, sir…”

Tears streamed down Luga’s face as he crawled on his knees toward Nyne. At the sight of Nyne’s terrible condition—something he’d never seen before—he was too shocked to speak. Popo spoke up instead.

“Bring a healing priest. Quickly!”

The priests moved fast. A chair was brought, and Iyu gently set Nyne down. The healer knelt in front of him and carefully poured clean water over his wounds. Dirt washed away from his hands, feet, and knees. Under the torchlight, the wounds on his knees and feet weren’t so bad.

But his hands—especially the right ring finger—were another matter. The nail had been torn off completely, and the skin shredded as if he had clawed at the earth like mad. Blood oozed from the torn skin and fingertips. The priest carefully washed the wounds.

“H-Hrk… Lord Nyne, your hands, why are they…?”

Luga sobbed quietly, but fell silent when Popo gripped his shoulder, signaling him to stay quiet. Glancing fearfully to the side, Luga saw Amon watching the treatment expressionlessly. His eyes had not left Nyne’s hands, obsessively following every drop of blood.

The priests crushed sharp-smelling herbs and applied them to the wounds, then tightly wrapped his hands with bandages. They made sure not a bit of flesh was left exposed, even covering his palms. Lastly, they cast a spell Nyne couldn’t identify. They examined his feet, which needed little treatment compared to his hands.

When the treatment was done, a cold silence fell.

Nyne blankly stared at his bandaged hands. Then Iyu, who had been watching the wounds with concern, took a deep breath. He stepped forward and knelt before Amon. Behind him, Sainka Hoan and the other warrior priests also knelt. They were all responsible for Nyne’s protection.

“We failed to protect Sha Nyne properly. We are guilty unto death, Sha.”

Amon, who had been staring only at Nyne’s hands, finally turned his head slowly. In the torchlight, no anger or blame was visible on his face. He looked down at the kneeling humans.

“…Is that so? You claim this is your fault.”

Amon held out his hand, and a nearby warrior priest drew the sword from his waist and offered it. With a shrrk, the blade was drawn. The sound brought Nyne to full alert. A memory from the past flashed through his mind.

“Lord Amon!”

Just as Amon moved, Nyne threw himself forward to block him. A white flash swept past his face—Amon had stopped the sword’s tip right in front of his cheek. He merely pulled the sword back, showing no emotion.

Standing before Amon, Nyne’s thoughts were a mess. How did everything turn into this overnight? Yesterday everything had been so good.

…It had felt like everything was finally going well.

“Yes. I forgot about you for a moment.”

In this situation, Amon’s soft tone felt jarring. Behind him, Iyu whispered, “Lord Nyne…”—even now, worrying for him. Nyne looked up at Amon with trembling eyes.

“You don’t like seeing things like this. I forgot to consider that.”

As if talking about something as trivial as a disliked object, Amon gestured to the priests. Ossen Iyad, who had been watching calmly, spoke.

“Escort Sha Nyne back to his tent with care.”

The priests bowed deeply and approached Nyne. Still not fully over the nightmare, Nyne backed away with a hostile look. The priests hesitated, glancing at Amon for guidance. Then Amon gave Nyne a direct order.

“I’ll make sure there’s no noise. Go rest in your tent.”