Nox furrowed his brows, eyes narrowing as he stared at Torven. The air between them felt heavy, like a storm building in silence.
"Explain this to me," he said, his voice low but edged with steel.
It came out harder than he intended. Torven noticed. He didn't flinch, but there was a subtle tension in the way his shoulders straightened. When he met Nox's eyes, there was no hesitation, only a flicker of something bitter just beneath the surface.
"It was like being yanked forward by a chain I didn't know I was wearing," he said in a low voice. "As if someone with a Green Mark summoned me. Not with words. Nothing I could understand. Just... a force. A pull that I had no control over. Something or someone compelled me to ride toward you."
Nox's brow furrowed deeper, as if he had more questions, but he didn't interrupt. Torven took a breath, voice tightening slightly.
"Was I angry? Yes. I won't pretend I wasn't. I was furious. I thought you were manipulating me. That it was all done on purpose. That somehow you were dragging me into something against my will. I blamed you and hated the feeling of being moved like a puppet.
He paused for a beat, swallowing the frustration before it came out too loud. Nox could hear the bitterness wrapped around every syllable.
"But later," Torven continued, more controlled now, "I began to understand. You weren't doing it deliberately. You didn't even know. You weren't trying to pull me in on purpose. And somehow, I was the one meant to help you."
He looked away for a second, then back again. His voice dropped, rougher.
"I didn't get why your Mark wasn't green. Not at first."
His expression tightened with something more than anger.
"I still regret the way I treated you back then," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. "Too harsh. So cold. I thought I was protecting myself. It took time to admit you didn't deserve it."
Nox's gaze softened, but he didn't speak immediately, studying the man in front of him. Then, after a moment had passed, he asked:
"Did I also tell you to save me in the forest?"
Torven went still. Then he shook his head once.
"No. That was on me. I found you half-dead, bleeding into the dirt. Could've turned around. I didn't. I didn't even know why. Just knew I couldn't leave you there. Perhaps I needed to make things right."
He paused, carefully choosing his words,
"It's not like I didn't hesitate," he said. "I did. Everything in me was screaming not to go after you. To let you go. That it wasn't my place. But before I could even finish my thought, I was already on my horse, already riding through the trees to find you."
"And then?" Nox prompted.
Torven let out a faint scoff, almost at himself.
"Then I told myself I just wanted you to heal. That once you could walk on your own again, I'd send you off. Help you stand, then send you away. Quickly and cleanly."
But his voice cracked just a little, and he stopped.
Nox noticed. He said nothing, simply waited.
Finally, Torven let out a long breath and said firmly:
"No that was bullshit. I never intended to let you go."
Torven looked Nox straight in the eyes, who immediately thought there was something raw in his eyes now. Vulnerable.
The words hung in the air like a confession.
Nox blinked. His breath caught for a second, barely perceptible. But instead of reacting with anger or suspicion, he asked, simply:
"Why?"
Torven didn't answer right away. He rubbed the back of his neck, then finally spoke.
"I don't know. Maybe I felt like some invisible hand, fate, or whatever it is that ties us to things, was keeping me near you. But also I just... felt needed."
He took a step back, not from fear, but distance. Like he was retreating into memory.
"You know, Nox... I've never been needed by anyone before. Not really. My parents didn't want me. I was just an item to them. The slave owners treated me like I was worthless. A property. An extra mouth. A body to sell, maybe. Nothing more, not without my power."
Torven's jaw clenched. His voice grew even quieter.
"Even Velkan didn't need me. I needed him. I hung onto him like a rope in the storm. I pulled him out of the mess once in the battle, but I'm sure he could've done fine without me. He thinks I saved his skin, and now, he acts like he owes me something."
He looked at Nox again, and this time his expression was unguarded, filled with something that teetered between fear and hope.
"But when it came to you... It felt different. For once, I wasn't chasing someone. I was standing where I was meant to be. And it mattered."
He looked down.
"I know that sounds pathetic. Maybe it is. But it's the truth. I just want you to know this: I'm here. If you want me to be."
He didn't look back at Nox as he said it. He didn't need to. He wasn't begging. He was offering.
Nox didn't speak right away. His silence wasn't rejection, it was contemplation. Finally, he nodded slowly.
"I understand," he said.
It was a simple response, but it carried weight. Torven's shoulders relaxed a little.
A quiet breeze rustled the leaves above them. Somewhere in the distance, a bird called. The world went on, unconcerned with their revelations.
Then Nox asked, almost as an afterthought:
"Do you know why my mark is fading?"
Torven didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on Nox's arm, a few seconds too long. Then he shook his head.
"I've noticed it changing. Sometimes thinning, other times growing. I'm not sure what it means.". Nox immediately felt Torven was hiding something, his answer seemed too controlled.
But before he could speak, Torven added quickly:
"I have a theory about the colour. Why it's brown, not just green."
Nox raised an eyebrow.
Torven smiled faintly, though it was more a smile of thought than amusement.
"What colors do you think make brown?"
Nox thought for a moment, frowning.
"Red and green," he said slowly.
Torven nodded.
"Exactly."
He held Nox's gaze a second longer than necessary. Long enough for something unspoken to pass between them, undeniable, but unsaid.
And Nox, slowly, began to understand.