Chapter 5 Irina

As the horse moved forward with a gentle jolt, she shifted slightly, clearly unused to the closeness between them.

"Thank you… mister?" she asked quietly, tilting her head as though trying to decipher him by sound alone. "I… I don't believe I caught your name."

He hesitated, a slight smile crossing his lips at her formal tone. "You can call me…" he paused, "Vyke."

"Vyke," she repeated, letting the name settle. "It's a strong name."

As they began, Irina clung to him, feeling a mixture of gratitude and unease.

After a while, they rode through a dark path, when a low rumble reached their ears.

A huge troll appeared from behind a crumbling wall, its heavy footsteps shaking the ground. Its wild eyes locked onto them, and it let out a loud roar, raising a jagged club.

He tightened his grip on the reins, whispering, "Hold on, Irina." He urged the horse into a gallop, trying to steer them through a thicket, hoping to lose the troll in the thick bushes.

But the troll followed, its heavy steps shaking the ground as it swung its club wildly. The path ahead narrowed, and despite his efforts, the horse stumbled over a large stone. He was thrown off balance, slamming his side into a sharp tree stump.

They managed to escape, but the pain in his side was sharp and growing. Slowing the horse to a stop, he took a shaky breath.

Irina gripped his arm. "Are you alright? You're hurt because of me," she said, her voice full of guilt. "You could've left me—"

He ignored her words, guiding the horse toward a nearby shack.

Once they reached it, he dismounted first, helping Irina down, hiding the pain in his side.

he leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Irina stood still, wringing her hands together, a sense of helplessness. "You didn't have to do this for me," she said quietly. "I'm nothing but trouble. If you hadn't stopped to help, you wouldn't be hurt."

He waved her off with a small smile. "It's nothing. I've been through worse."

Irina's expression wavered, and she lowered her head, avoiding his gaze.

"Still, I don't get it. You don't even know me, but you're willing to risk yourself for me," she said, her voice shaking.

"I don't deserve that kind of kindness."

He didn't respond right away. Instead, he slowly stood up and walked inside the shack, moving carefully. After a moment, he turned back to her, holding out his hand.

"Come inside," he said, his voice calm. He helped her into the shack, leading her gently to a bed. "Sit here."

Irina hesitated but then sat on the edge of the bed. She didn't speak, just sat quietly, unsure of what to say next. He stood there for a moment, watching her with a neutral expression.

Her fingers twisted the edges of her blindfold as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"I'm sorry you're hurt because of me," she said quietly, her voice thick with guilt. "You didn't have to help me."

He stood nearby, his presence just close enough that she could sense him, but she couldn't bring herself to look towards him—couldn't even if she wanted to.

He exhaled, a soft sound, then spoke. "It's not your fault. I did what I had to do."

She shifted, feeling a strange discomfort settling in her chest. There was something about him that she couldn't quite place.

Maybe it was his calm demeanor, the way he acted so assured even though she knew he was injured. "I don't want to be a burden," she added, her voice barely a whisper.

"You're not," he replied, his tone unwavering. "No one's a burden when they need help. That's just part of it."

Irina didn't respond right away. She wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure how to express what was swirling inside her. She didn't know him—didn't know why he cared enough to help her—but there was something in his presence that made her feel… safe, in a way she hadn't in a long time.

"I don't understand," she muttered, the words escaping before she could stop them. "Why go through all this for me?"

"Maybe because you don't have to be alone. Maybe because sometimes people need someone, even if they don't ask."

"I don't know how to repay you," she said softly. "You don't know me… and yet, you're here."

He placed a hand gently on the edge of the bed, close enough that she could feel. "You don't need to repay me," he said simply. "I'm here because I want to be."

Irina hesitated, unsure of what to make of his words. He made it sound so simple, but everything felt complicated inside her. "I…" She paused, feeling something she hadn't expected. "I don't want to be alone either."

She couldn't see his expression, but she could hear the faint shift in his breath, as though he was considering her words carefully. "Then don't be.."

A silence followed.

Irina's hand rested in her lap, her fingers still twitching nervously. "You're not like others…" she said, almost as an afterthought.

He chuckled softly. "No. I'm not."

And in that moment, Irina wasn't sure if it was the words or the way he said them, but she felt something shift—a realization, small but undeniable. Maybe, just maybe, she needed him more than she realized.

But for now, she didn't say anything more. Instead, she settled back onto the bed, silently accepting his presence, unsure where things were headed but finding, for the first time in a while, that she didn't mind

She shifted on the bed, her hands twisting nervously in her lap. He made it sound so easy, but Irina could feel something rising in her—a need she hadn't acknowledged before. The thought slipped out before she could stop it.

"Would you…" She stopped, swallowed, and tried again. "Would you want to be… with me?" Her voice was soft, almost unsure. "Not just now, but… later? Like… a man, a husband, someone who'll be there?"

Irina immediately regretted it, but she couldn't take it back now. Her fingers tightened in her lap as she waited, unsure if she'd just said too much.

He didn't speak at first, and the silence stretched long between them. Irina held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. When he finally spoke, it was quiet, but his voice was firm.

"But you can't even see how I look," he said.

Irina paused, her breath catching for a moment. She had expected something like that—something practical, maybe even dismissive. But the truth was, she wasn't concerned with what he looked like.

She already felt the warmth of his presence, the steadiness in his voice. She could feel him in the space between them.

"I don't need to see you," she replied softly, almost as if she were reassuring herself. "I can feel you. And I can feel that you're different. I… I need someone to rely on, and if only you're willing to be with a blind girl like me, then that's enough."

he slowly moved closer, sitting beside her on the bed. His hand gently rested on her waist, and the other lifted to her chin, guiding her face toward him. Irina's breath hitched, but she didn't pull away.

Irina felt the warmth of his hand on her waist, and the steady pressure of his other hand against her lower back. The touch was gentle, yet something in the way he held her made her heart race, unsure of what it all meant. She felt his breath near her ear, a soft exhale.

His fingers lightly traced the edge of her blindfold, as if contemplating something. She shifted slightly, her fingers curling tighter in her lap, feeling her cheeks flush despite herself.

His hand slid a little lower, and she tensed, not quite understanding what was happening. But there was no resistance in her body, only a quiet curiosity, an innocence that made her unaware of the full implications of his touch.

She felt his hand resting near her hip, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of her clothing.

"Is this alright?" he asked, his voice softer now, barely a whisper.

Irina swallowed, her mind a blur as she tried to make sense of his words, but all she could focus on was the way his touch made her feel—safe, yet undeniably exposed.

She wasn't sure what was happening, but her body seemed to respond in ways she didn't fully understand.

"I… I don't know," she murmured, her voice barely audible, but her body instinctively leaning toward him, as if drawn by some unseen force.

He slowly tilted her chin up, and before she could gather her thoughts, his lips brushed against hers.

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Melina, Malenia, and Marika are inevitable; the rest is up to you all to decide.

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