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Prologue

A heavy hand landing on his shoulder startled him awake, and the sudden jostling that accompanied it shook him out of his tired stupor with the same efficiency as a bucket of ice water getting dumped over his head. He was already half-raised onto his elbow before his eyes even opened, his mouth shaping to form some semblance of a question. Before a sound could escape, though, he was being muffled with a cold palm.

"Quiet, child! They'll hear!" His mother hissed, her gaze frantic as she stared out the small window of the kitchen, though he couldn't imagine she was able to see anything from their position on the floor.

The boy froze, the dormant fear he always carried around with him bursting to the surface, causing his arm to quiver under his weight. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew that look on his mother's face. She was only afraid like that when there was good reason.

She continued to cling to him, seemingly torn between pulling him closer and keeping him perfectly still with her iron grip. He followed her gaze to the window. Torchlight licked at the sill, creeping steadily along the walls as whoever was outside approached their ramshackle hut. There was a faint clank of metal with each step, growing louder and more jarring by the second. There were voices as well, deep and authoritative, somewhere off in the distance, presumably at one of the other houses. He couldn't make out the words, but whoever was speaking certainly wasn't in a friendly mood.

A sharp knock on the door made both of them jump.

"Whoever's in there, open up!" The man was curt, with no trace of request in his tone.

The woman shot to her feet at that very instant, pulling her son up with her like a sack of potatoes. He clutched at her hands for balance and out of fear to be separated from her by even a sliver of air. His breaths came ragged, wild eyes flicking from his mother to the door and back again. She bent over so they were nearly eye level, her expression pale with fright but fierce all the same.

"I want you to run to the woods. Find the stream and a place near it to hide. You mustn't let anyone see you, understand?" Her hand slid from his shoulder to his neck. "Do not come out until I come to find you," she ordered swiftly, already pushing him toward the back exit as more rowdy banging echoed through the room.

"B-But what about you?" He stammered, tripping over his feet in their haste.

"It's not me they want. I'll be fine," she said dismissively, snatching an old cloak off a bench next to the doorway and wrapping it around him tightly. He let go of her to bury his hands in its folds, seeking warmth. It was a terribly cold night, and he was only wearing his sleeping tunic and trousers.

"If you don't open up, I'm going to have to kick down the door!" The stranger warned irritably.

"Mum—"

His mother whipped open the back door, practically shoving him outside. "Go now!" She whispered forcefully, gesturing toward the tree line. "Do not come out of hiding for anyone but me!" She reminded him, then promptly shut the door in his face.

Giving himself only a moment to panic about being left on his own, he quickly spun around and darted through the barren fields to the cover of the trees beyond, flinching at every flicker of light he noticed in his periphery. The dirt felt like solid stone beneath his feet, having frozen over completely sometime after sunset. He grimaced at the unpleasant sensation but let it spur him to move faster, cutting across the open space like a shadow in the night. The frayed edges of his blue cloak billowed behind him, and his feet brushed the rough fabric every time they left the ground.

Even when he reached the relative safety of the trees, he didn't stop. His clothes caught on branches and twigs dragged across his skin as he stumbled his way deeper into the brush, heading toward the creek he visited daily for washing. He slapped foliage out of his path as he ran, panting more from adrenaline than exertion.

It was only due to pure luck that he noticed the two men standing at the creek's edge before he continued right onto the bank. He staggered to a halt, reeling back against the nearest tree trunk and crouching behind it, praying that they hadn't heard him approaching over the sound of their chatting.

Both of them wore gleaming silver armor but no helmets, each with a sword sheathed on his hip. They stood a foot apart as they talked, freshly filled waterskins dangling between their fingers. Their horses were tied a little farther up the bank, heads lowered and tails flicking lazily while their eyes drooped with sleep. If the animals had noticed his arrival, they made no indication, likely well-trained to ignore the odd noise here and there.

The boy sank lower, his palm drifting over the bark as he peeked his head around just enough to watch the two men. He pulled his hood closed around the bottom half of his face, hiding the warm puffs of breath he released with each exhale into the frigid air. The dark color of his cloak aided him in his endeavor to blend into his surroundings. If anything were to give him away at this point, it would be his milky white skin.

He tuned into the conversation, hoping they'd finish up and move on sooner rather than later. The bigger man, heavily muscled and sporting a rather impressive beard of red, was waving his waterskin around in a gesture of annoyance.

"I just don't see why he had to send a whole contingent of knights to this nowhere village. Two or three would've sufficed, surely? Five days we've been on the road freezing our arses off! I say, we better get paid a bonus for this little excursion. I'll be lucky to return with my balls intact!" He complained, shifting his breeches with obvious discomfort as he took another swig of icy water.

His companion snorted and shook his head. "You're not the only one suffering, Gareth. Do you hear any of us complaining?"

Gareth scowled. "I think I have a right to complain to this nonsense! It's the middle of bloody winter for fuck's sake!"

The other man shrugged indifferently. "You know how the king gets when sorcery is involved. The sooner we find this guy, the sooner we get to go home to a warm meal."

The boy's eyes went wide, and he twisted so his back rested against the trunk, his fingers digging past the roots into the loose soil at the base. He stared forward, wishing there was some way he could make himself invisible. He was still hidden in shadow, but he'd never felt more exposed.

The men continued to talk, but he could no longer see them.

"It's been five years since he was last seen! This is a fool's errand," Gareth stated derisively.

"According to the rumors—"

"I don't give a flying fuck about the rumors, Damien! You know how suspicious the peasant folk are. They're always seeing magic where there is none. Besides, this isn't even our kingdom! Why should we care what happens over the border?"

"This isn't just some random sorcerer and you know it," Damien countered hotly, clearly fed up with his friend's ranting. Silence enveloped the night for a few moments before he continued in a calmer voice. "As long as he's still alive, there's danger for the rest of us. I think ensuring Camelot's safety is worth following a few rumors."

Gareth blew out a long breath. "You always did take your oaths too seriously," he muttered, though there was an amused edge to it.

"Yeah, well, some of us enjoy our jobs. Now come on, the others are probably wondering where we are by now. We should head back." Mud squelched under their boots as they began to move up the bank, Gareth lagging behind. The boy watched them as they walked into sight, their forms difficult to make out past the shrubbery.

He sighed quietly in relief, taking hold of a thin branch above his head to pull himself up. He had just made it to his feet when the wood gave an ominous crack under his minuscule weight, and he barely managed to dodge as the entire limb broke off the tree, crashing to the ground with a volume that seemed to ring loud enough to wake a neighboring kingdom.

He froze, his heart plunging somewhere around his stomach. The two men had paused immediately and turned toward the sound, staring in his direction through narrowed eyes, though he was sure they couldn't actually see him in the pitch darkness from that distance.

"You hear that?" Gareth whispered.

Damien's hand swept to his sword hilt. "Who goes there?" He called sharply. "Show yourself!"

The boy did the only thing he could: turn tail and run for his life. He didn't slow to visually mark his path so he'd be able to make his way back later, nor did he spare a glance over his shoulder. He could hear them blundering through the forest after him and could easily gauge their distance on sound alone. They had the advantage in numbers and size, but their armor weighed them down and made them less maneuverable.

He hurtled over roots and zigzagged around trees, the only thoughts in his mind being run faster faster faster and I don't wanna die! The deeper into the forest he went, the more their footsteps faded. He could hear them arguing to each other as they chased him, asking if the other had seen where he'd gone or if either had gotten a good look at him.

He was so blind with fear that he didn't see the drop in front of him. A silent gasp escaped his lips as his foot came down on empty air, the rest of his body following it down. For a few moments he was completely weightless, then he felt the first impact with a jutting rock. It knocked the breath out of him, but he still managed to curl into a tight ball as he continued down the steep hill, minimizing damage as he crashed through bushes and bramble patches. His body skipped over the ground like a pebble over a flat lake, collecting bruises and scratches all over and leaving a trail of crushed twigs and scattered leaves in its wake. It felt like forever before he finally landed at the bottom of the ravine on his back, his limbs flailing out with the force of it.

Time seemed to stretch on interminably as he lay there staring up at the canopy through fuzzy vision. He could still feel his fingers and toes, which was a good sign, but he wouldn't have been able to move a muscle if he'd tried. If he needed to defend himself, he was out of luck.

He blinked slowly, forcing himself not to pass out as he listened for the two knights that had been after him. He couldn't hear their voices anymore, so he could only assume he'd managed to lose them before his fall. Hopefully they'd wandered off in the wrong direction, or better yet, given up altogether. He might've broken a few bones, but he'd much rather suffer a couple injuries than be dragged back to their king to be burned. His mother had warned him what happened to people like him. He didn't want to feel his skin melt and blister like a pig on a roast. He'd had nightmares about it since he could remember, and it was the only thing he truly feared.

Lying there with only his thoughts as company, he could do nothing as tears welled up in his eyes. He sniffed and his lip wobbled in warning just before the first muffled sob broke past his defenses.

He wanted his mum. He didn't want to be here, freezing on the hard-packed earth in the middle of the night, terrified that a horde of knights would happen upon him at any moment. He didn't understand why he had to hide, why everyone seemed to want him dead. He'd done nothing wrong. He always did what his mum told him, and he was friendly to his neighbors even when they didn't return the favor. His mum told him all the time that he was a good boy with a good heart, so why did he have to live like this?

"I-It's not f-fair," he stuttered aloud, his teeth chattering with cold. Tears ran over his flushed cheeks, tracks of warmth that immediately turned icy and uncomfortable. "Just leave me alone," he whispered brokenly, slowly turning onto his side with a wince and pulling his knees to his chest in an effort to fight off the elements. His feet were numb and the cloak was doing little for the rest of him, but he clung to it like a safety blanket, squeezing his eyes shut.

Silence was his only companion, and his thoughts grew more hazy as the cold settled into his very bones. The only image in his head was of his mother. He wondered if she was alright, if the man who'd been knocking was hurting her or simply talking to her. He hoped she came to find him soon, so she could give him one of her soothing hugs. They always cheered him up, especially when the other kids were being mean to him.

He kept her command at the forefront of his mind.

Do not come out until I come to find you.

He bit his lip harshly to prevent another sob, aching all over.

Please come soon, mum, he begged, and it was his last thought before he finally drifted away to somewhere safer and warmer and much more peaceful.

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