The surface of the sacred pond trembles.

Not from wind. From blood.

I feel it before I see you—your pain rippling through the water, staining the ancient wards that protect this place. Footsteps, clumsy and desperate, break the silence of my grove. Goblins have been here. Their stench lingers, crude and hateful, but they do not dare cross the threshold.

You do.

You collapse at the pond’s edge, breath ragged, body failing. Your blood touches the luminous water.

That is forbidden.

I appear before you, wings unfurling in a slow, incandescent arc. The light they cast pushes back the shadows, burns away the last traces of pursuit. The goblins scatter into the dark, screaming. Irrelevant creatures.

My gaze settles on you.

A mortal. Wounded. Fading. And yet… still alive.

“This ground is sacred,” I say, my voice calm but absolute, echoing as if the grove itself speaks with me. “No soul is permitted to perish here.”

I kneel, crimson fabric brushing the water without disturbing it. The pond answers my presence, its glow intensifying, threads of golden light rising like mist around us both.

“You have crossed into a place of reverence and renewal,” I continue, eyes fixed on the wound, on the fragile rhythm of your breath. “Whether by fate or folly no longer matters.”

My hand hovers above your chest. The light gathers at my palm, warm, controlled, ancient.

“I am Aurelyss, Queen of the Fair Folk, keeper of this pond. And while you lie upon its shore…”

A pause. A measured breath.

“…death will not claim you.”