Nox felt stronger than usual, as if he had gone back in time by at least six months. He looked at his mark again; the moon appeared fuller. 'I must be going crazy... Or maybe this is all a dream? I have to wake up,' he thought.
The narrow crescent seemed slightly thicker than before. He lightly pinched his own cheek.
He had no idea how it was possible or what had happened, but one thing was certain: this wasn't his end yet. Somehow, in a magical way, he managed to extend his life... or someone else had done it for him. The latter felt more likely, but that only raised more questions.
Nox racked his brain trying to make sense of everything that happened, his uncertainty overshadowed by joy, relief, and hope. His thoughts turned to his brother, Abram, and his father. He should write them a letter, or better yet, visit them in person as soon as possible.
At last. He knew there is a cure. He didn't know what it was. A medicine? or something else entirely? All he knew was that it was working. For now. The mark on his hand was healing, and that gave him some hope. But hope wasn't enough. He needed to understand what was happening. What exactly was keeping him alive? Was this a permanent fix or just a temporary delay? What would he have to do to keep living? Finding out what this cure was would be his next challenge.
He also wondered if he was in trouble again. Would Torven punish him? Would he be angry? The thought made his chest tighten. Nox wasn't sure how Torven would react to his escape attempt, especially now that he was back and healing.
His mind flicked to the door. Was it still locked? Was Velkan standing on the other side? For a moment, he hesitated, unsure if he should test the limits. He decided he will try it in a moment.
Nox sat on the bed, trying to make sense of the escape and everything that had happened afterward. Then he looked at his mark again and came to the conclusion it had really happened. His replenishing Mark was proof.
He glanced down at his leg. He began to move his toes without any issue. Then he carefully moved his foot in a round motion. There was some resistance, but no pain. His skin looked normal. He couldn't see any scars or signs that his bones had ever been shattered. Nox sat for a long while, deep in thought.
He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard the door handle turn. The door creaked open slowly, the familiar sound breaking the silence. He seemed a bit awkward, maybe uncertain.
Torven stepped inside but didn't come any closer. From a short distance, he asked:
"Good morning Nox, Feeling any better?"
"Yes, thank you," Nox replied. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Torven cleared his throat.
"I found you in the forest. I couldn't leave you there."
He paused briefly, then added,
"I'm sorry for keeping you locked up. You're free to move around the entire estate - except for that one outbuilding next to the stables. I understand if you want to write a letter to your family. I'll help you send it. But I ask that you stay here a little longer, at least until you start feeling better."
Nox furrowed his brow slightly and asked, "Hang on, how do you know my name?" He looked at Torven with suspicion.
"I read your farewell letter, remember? You signed it with your name." Torven sighed.
Nox nodded. "Ok," Then, as if suddenly remembering, he asked the question that had been weighing on him:
"Did you call a healer? Someone with blue Mark?"
Torven studied him for a moment before answering,
"Yes. Something like that. I hope your leg heals properly. I'll let you rest now".
Torven sighed, then offered a faint, almost apologetic smile turning toward the door.
As he reached for the handle, he paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"If you need anything, just ask. Someone will be nearby."
Then he opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him with a quiet click. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, but not unwelcome. Nox remained seated on the bed, staring at the closed door, taking note of Torven not having locked it after his exit.
On the same day, later in the evening, the first thing Nox did when he felt just a little bit better was to run to the stables.
"Run" was perhaps too strong a word. Although his ankle looked fine, after just a few steps he could feel the joint stiffening. He knew it would take weeks before he could walk without limping again - if that was even possible. He followed the familiar, weed-covered path toward his friend.
Just as Torven had promised, the stable was unlocked. He almost cried when he saw Gerhart. This time, he could freely step inside and gently stroke the horse's neck. Gerhart rubbed against Nox in joy and softly snorted.
"Sorry I left you behind. I'll make it up to you once I'm better," Nox whispered, kissing his stallion's nose.
As he was leaving the stable, he encountered Velkan. He nodded in a friendly manner toward him, and Velkan returned the gesture. No words were needed - they shared an unspoken understanding.
Nox took a deep breath and allowed himself a moment of calm. Despite the pain and uncertainty, seeing Gerhart and Velkan reminded him that he wasn't alone. He didn't even know when he started considering Velkan as his friend.
Strength, he realized, would come not just from healing his body, but also from the support of those who stood by him.
Little did he know that in one of the mansion's rooms, a large warrior was sitting by the fire, holding a glass of whiskey. He was wearing just a plain shirt rolled up at the sleeves and worn trousers. His sword was still within reach on the table. Just in case.
The whiskey was strong, but it did its job. He took another sip, staring into the fire with a blank expression. His calloused hand was getting cold as almost only ice remaned in the glass.
His mind wasn't focusing on the drink, though but instead on Nox, the young warrior in the other room.
He'd seen the mark on his hand. 'That damned Mark. It had changed, without a doubt.'