#half-giants

The Wildes had changed over the years. On your walk, you noticed that borders are now off-limits and that portions of the land are scarred by war. Yet despite it all, it was still a place you roamed, its familiarity giving you confidence even as danger lingered in the scars of its past.

Travelling through the Wildes alone might seem unwise to some, but centuries of walking its paths — even during the war, when you slipped between territories to gather supplies — had taught you its patterns and hidden safe routes.

As you walked, the sun barely filtered through the thick canopy. The forest was very much alive, birds drifting through the air and echoing their songs to one another — a language you understood, each note marking the life blooming all around.

You often paused to rest or to gather herbs you discovered along the way, wrapping each one in wax paper to preserve them. When your journey brought you to a clearing adorned with wildflowers, you couldn’t help but scream with joy upon discovering an abundance of rare finds. 

The clearing was vast, yet the trees around it bent inward, forming a natural dome above, their branches weaving together to cradle the sky. In the very center, the faintest circle of sunlight spilled through, illuminating the wildflowers like a spotlight on a hidden stage, and in that spotlight lay a small patch of grass with a monument. 

As you approached, you saw two ancient texts engraved side by side into the stone. You didn’t know what they meant, but the way the light touched them filled you with reverence. You knelt in front of it, brushing a few patches of moss from the stone before conjuring a couple of lavender stalks and placing them gently at its base.

You uttered a small prayer, hoping the gods above would bless your journey before you resumed collecting.

—

In the midst of your gathering, you heard a rustling sound, accompanied by the wind echoing through a hollow structure, reminiscent of a whistle. It felt as though a cave was nearby, yet there were no hills or mountains in sight where an entrance could be. The rustling sounded too intentional to be merely the wind.

Your leaves bristled, and the vines on your limbs coiled tighter, a subtle warning from the earth itself. You stood still, scanning the clearing carefully, leaning close to the soil and listening to the faint pulse of life beneath your feet. The forest spoke to you, whispering caution, yet nothing revealed itself.

You stepped lightly, your vines brushing gently over flowers and ferns as you moved through the clearing. The usual sounds of birds and rustling leaves filled the air, and you paused every so often to breathe in the damp, earthy scent of the soil. 

Something about the ground beneath your feet felt…softer than usual, almost like it was shifting under your weight. You frowned and tested the earth carefully with your toes, finding it spongy in places, but there was no way to know how deep the softness went.

Cautiously, you moved toward a small patch of sun-dappled ground until the light caught a subtle glimmer tucked between two stones, half-hidden among ordinary plants. You crouched closer, examining the shape.

You have found the rarest flower, spoken of by the elders from the Dryadic Temple. A flower that blooms upon the death of a Lich, with its roots feeding on the bones of old. It had petals of deep crimson flecked with black and white, golden bulbs clustered in its center, and leaves a vivid emerald green. You let your fingers trace the edges of the petals, admiring their delicate shimmer. Carefully, you wrapped your vines around its stem, lifting it gently from the earth without disturbing the fragile roots.

Just as the flower was free, a faint groan rumbled beneath your foot. You froze, eyes widening as a patch of soil wobbled, shifted violently, then gave way. Instinctively, your Dryadic powers shot outward, clutching at roots, moss, and vines, trying to hold the earth together. But it was too late. The ground collapsed into darkness beneath you. You flailed, your powers barely slowing the fall, leaves and dirt scattering in every direction. You hit hard, pain lancing through your limbs, and the void swallowed you whole.

There was scuttling in the dark, a dragging noise that grew louder by the second until it stopped just above your head. Dizzy from the fall, you thought you were dreaming, until something lifted you from the ground, your vines dangling limply from your limbs.

You barely heard a murmur, unintelligible, sounding like two or three voices intermingled together. You ached everywhere, the pain making you black out again as you floated away, a weightless breath caught in your throat. 

—

The sound of a log clattering reverberated in the air, waking you up from your slumber. 

As your eyes adjusted, you noticed a bonfire blazing in the middle of the dark expanse. You tried to turn but felt a sharp pain course through your left leg. 

A voice rose, high yet hollow, and the language spoken was foreign to you, bouncing off the walls with a strange cadence that felt almost…unnatural. You sought the source, eyes scanning until you saw a dark mass sitting in the corner, away from the firelight, as if cowering from it.

“Where am I?” you asked, wincing as you tried to lift your upper body. Soft furs caressed your skin beneath you. The dark mass beside you shifted and moved to the side, and you followed its form.

You didn’t receive an answer; instead, the mass moved further into the cave.

“Wait!” you exclaimed unintentionally, panic blooming in your chest. It’s not like you were afraid of the dark, but you couldn’t deny that you felt uneasy.

A high-pitched whisper echoed around you. Were there others? Before you could ponder the thought, it disappeared, leaving you alone in the firelight.

You didn’t know how long it had been gone, but you must have fallen back asleep, exhausted from your journey and the injury on your leg.

When you came to once again, it was from the sound of footfalls, and it took a moment for your vision to clear. 

A figure stood before you, its long arms marked with intriguing mottling and its back slightly hunched over. A dark, burlap sack covered its face. When it turned to look at you, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of its piercing blue eyes glowing through two holes in the burlap. Surprisingly gentle, the eyes held a hint of humanity, and its expression conveyed an emotion that could only be described as fear.

You found his fear curious, almost endearing. Yet there was something more — a subtle flicker of magic you couldn’t name. Not entirely mortal, but something older, stranger. It felt as though he held secrets that even the cave itself had never revealed.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the steady crackle of the fire and the faint hum of the cave breathing around you. You stayed still, studying the figure as he lingered just beyond the light’s reach. He made no move to harm you, only shifting his weight from one leg to the other, as if uncertain whether to stay or flee. When he finally stepped closer, his movements were careful, almost hesitant — and only then did you truly notice how massive he was, towering over the firelight, broad-shouldered and hulking, scars adorning his torso. Yet despite his size, every motion he made was careful, almost meek, a stark contrast to the strength his body possessed.

You watched as he set two stone slabs at the edges of the bonfire, then lifted a wide, flat slab to rest across them. A moment later, he laid a large chunk of meat on the heated surface, and it began to sizzle. The cave quickly filled with a nutty, savoury aroma, one that would have made your stomach growl, if it could. Your lineage wasn’t of the Carnivorous Dryads of Shadoweald; you survived on berries gathered from the wilds or through sunbasking, a communal feast similar to the ones the humans host in Farrhaven, feeding thousands.

But in a dark cave, it poses risks, especially if you stay longer, and with your current condition, you're worried about your well-being. 

You tried to sit up but failed, and the figure turned and noticed you struggling. He grew a little wary, his body language portraying his discomfort, or pity, as he whispered words you didn’t understand. You also realized his voice was rather high-pitched than you expected, a sound that you expected to come from a man your size, not a Half-Giant. 

When you tried sitting up again, he closed the distance in a matter of seconds, but not intruding, his blue eyes carefully studying your leg. 

He spoke again, but you only shook your head as his words were only gibberish to your hearing. “I’m hurt…need a splint,” you say, but it was fruitless as both of you couldn’t understand each other. You needed something to straighten your leg in order for your magic to heal the damage. The twigs and sticks you’re able to conjure up were unfortunately too flimsy to carry your weight, not unless you exerted more energy. 

You didn’t want to risk it, afraid it would drain your life force, given your current state. Instead, you gestured for a piece of wood, your fingers forming a hook as you traced its imaginary outline, then pointed to your injured leg. You repeated this once or twice, saying, “Splint…wood,” before the figure seemed to understand and went to the neatly stacked firewood.

When he got back, he had found a perfectly thin yet sturdy piece and carefully slid the splint beside your injured leg. You used your vines to secure it in place, sweat beading down your forehead. You caught sight of his reaction, intrigued by your power. 

Once you were finished, you lay back against the furs, panting and exhausted. He didn’t move away as he studied you, but when you looked back at him, he recoiled slightly, his eyes wide as if he had somehow offended you. You found this reaction comical, but you buried your laughter deep within, not wanting to be cruel. 

—

The sizzling of the meat and the crackling of the fire were the only sounds reverberating through the air. 

When the meat was ready, he offered you a small piece. However, you shook your head in refusal.

“I don’t eat meat,” you said simply. His eyes went wide and got a little glassy at your tone, and you almost laughed — not because you thought it hilarious, but because the reaction caught you off guard.

You pointed toward the ceiling. “Sun.” Then, folding your fingers as if plucking food from the air, you brought them to your mouth. “Eat.” You hoped the gesture would convey that you fed on solar nourishment. He watched carefully, head tilted as the wheels turned in his head.

You sighed and decided to show him a symbol on the ground using a conjured-up stick. You drew him a visual of a plant and the sun. You pointed at the plant, then to yourself. He nodded, letting you go on, and you did as you suggested at the sun, and then gestured the movement for ‘eating’ again. Immediately, his eyes lit up, and he understood. 

“Need sunlight, or I’ll die,” you said, groaning, but it was more of an exaggeration; you wouldn’t perish immediately, but the slow process would’ve been devastating and could damage your life force. Oh, to be a Mushroom Dryad, where you thrive at any time of day, more so in a cave, but alas, you were but a mere Plant Dryad reliant on sunlight.

—

He carried you carefully, and at first, you thought he was taking you outside. But as you went deeper into the cave, patches of light began seeping through. He avoided them, maneuvering his body this way and that, and you didn’t understand why until he reached a vast chamber. A skylight stretched above, and soil, grass, and flowers carpeted the middle of the floor. This was where you must have fallen through, and you couldn’t help but whistle at how far up it was.

Judging by the sunlight’s angle, it was just past midday. He stepped further into the chamber but stopped just before the sun could touch him.

Gently, he set you down and helped you to your feet. You stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

He gestured the Commonfolk word “eat,” and you used your vines to guide yourself forward, limping into the sunlight with shaky breath.

When you almost tripped, he lunged forward. The sunlight hit his arm, instantly steaming his skin and reddening it, and he recoiled with a hiss.

It dawned on you — he wasn’t a sun-born like you. He was an offspring of darkness, a creature moulded by shadows rather than light. The thought intrigued you, and you found yourself studying him more closely. He was clearly a Half-Giant, but something in his blood hinted at a different kind of magic, something you barely understood.

You shifted slightly, allowing the sun to warm your skin. The leaves in your hair and the vines coiling around your limbs seemed to absorb the light, rejuvenating you. Even as your body soaked in the nourishment, your mind kept drifting back to him and the strong yet oddly vulnerable presence he radiated.

He watched you feed, and you could hear his stomach growl. A pang of guilt seared through you, but he remained patient, waiting as you finished.

The wind whistled somewhere in the distance, and you hummed absentmindedly, lost in thought.

Finally, you broke the silence. “What’s your name?” you asked, curiosity spilling out a little too fast. He stared at you blankly, not understanding.

You pressed a hand to your chest and spoke your name slowly, introducing yourself.

His eyes lit up, and he repeated your name, letting it roll off his tongue with excitement.

You smiled and waited for him to respond.

Again, you asked, “What’s your name?” pointing toward him. He mirrored your gesture, pressing a hand to his broad chest, “König,” he said softly, his voice shy.

“König,” you echoed, curiosity tugging at you over the meaning of his name.

“Thank you, König,” you added with a smile. You noticed his eyes crinkling, as if he were smiling behind the burlap.

You could tell it was morning again when König gently nudged you awake, his touch light and warm. When you glanced at him, he was motioning for the word “eat,” though he stumbled over it in his attempts to speak Commonfolk.

“Eht,” he said, the sound muffled beneath the burlap.

A giggle slipped out before you could stop it. “It’s eat, but that’s close enough!” you replied with a playful grin.

He carried you back to the chamber but settled you near the entrance, where the morning light stretched in at a low, golden angle, preventing him from going any further. There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes for how far you had to limp, but you reassured him you were fine, using your vines to slowly propel yourself forward.

This time, he had brought food, and the two of you ate in silence, facing each other like old friends sharing a cozy meal.

You noticed that instead of removing the burlap, he merely pulled the bottom part a bit forward, shovelling little pieces into his mouth in a curious manner. It was an odd gesture, but one you chose not to question. If he preferred to keep his face a secret, it was not your place to pry. Still, a part of you was intrigued, wondering what lay beneath that fabric.

When it was time for you to return, the sun had danced a few feet higher in the sky, and he was able to escort you out of the chamber.

As he carried you, you couldn’t help but gaze at the burlap, which had frayed at the edges, adorned with a small tear at one corner. There were also strange red ochre marks where the eyeholes were, and you found yourself wondering if it was a stylistic choice or if he had cried blood at one point. The latter thought felt too morbid, and you quickly decided against dwelling on it.

—

It had become routine for König to carry you back to the chamber whenever it was time for you to feed. The space had begun to feel almost familiar. He always set you down near the light, careful not to jostle your injured leg, and waited until you were settled before stepping back into the shadows.

As night fell — or at least you assumed it was night, judging by the way König’s movements had slowed and his posture had begun to sag — he eventually drifted into a deep, heavy sleep. The fire crackled softly, throwing faint light over the stone walls. You busied yourself with readjusting the splint and tightening the vines, wincing each time your fingers slipped or brushed against tender skin.

A low grunt escaped you without meaning to. König stirred almost immediately, his head lifting from where he’d been resting against the wall. His eyes glowed faintly in the dimness as he blinked at you, then shifted closer. With a careful hand, he assisted, his large fingers guiding the splint upward while you secured it tight.

Afterwards, you thanked him, but he only let out a soft hum, his gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. 

—

In the days that followed, besides König assisting with your recovery, you tried to teach him how to speak Commonfolk.

You had taught him words like sun, eat, splint, take, sleep, and berries. Every time he tried to repeat your words, he stumbled or mispronounced them entirely, but you still praised his efforts, the corners of your lips curling in amusement and warmth. Each attempt seemed to make him shine a little brighter in your eyes, and you couldn’t help but lean closer when he hesitated over a sound, wanting to offer him encouragement.

One night, you found a small bundle of berries beside the furs. You had wondered where he had gone, only to realize he had ventured outside to hunt and gather food. The thought that he had cared enough to risk the outdoors for you stirred something unexpected in your chest — a flutter of appreciation, tinged with a sweetness that made your heart beat a little faster.

There were times you caught him watching you sleep, his gaze gentle, almost reverent. And you noticed the occasional dreamy sigh that slipped from him, quiet but unmistakable, as though your presence alone brought him comfort. It made you feel...seen, in a way that went beyond the ordinary.

You couldn’t deny that his eyes were captivating, how they softened when you spoke, how his hands lingered just a moment longer than necessary. His attention was constant, subtle, yet entirely consuming.

You weren’t blind, nor were you foolish. Although you didn’t have an inflated ego, you couldn’t ignore the truth: König might be infatuated with you. Just as undeniable was the way your heart warmed whenever he was near, the faint electricity that tingled along your fingertips whenever they brushed against his. Every gesture, every glance, seemed to etch itself into your memory, leaving you with a sense of anticipation that made the thought of leaving the cave increasingly unbearable.

He was beginning to leave his mark on you as well, and with each passing day, each shared meal, each gentle touch, the bond between you grew stronger, fragile yet undeniably real.

—

König grows quieter and more withdrawn as he senses your time together is coming to an end.

You were able to walk now, although with a limp, but you chose to spend another night to be with him. You convinced yourself it was because you weren’t ready for the long journey back to the village, but deep down, you knew it was really because you weren’t prepared to leave just yet.

You caught him looking again, although this time, his eyes showed a bit of sadness, aware that you were leaving sooner than he wanted.

You sat him down by the fire, caressing his hands, and there was a slight tremor when you touched them.

“König,” you began, removing your hands briefly on top of his as you conjured up a circlet made of vines. You offered it to him and wrapped it around his left wrist.

“Thank you,” you said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. Before you could pull away, he slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you flush against him. It caught you by surprise, but you let him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His form was solid against you, radiating a warmth that seeped through your skin. You hadn’t realized until that moment just how safe he made you feel.

You heard him whisper in his language, an unearthly undertone barely audible, but it was there, trembling as he held you close.

“I…I can’t stay,” you admitted, wishing you didn’t have to leave. He held you tighter, as if the word itself had anchored him to you. “Can’t stay,” he echoed softly, the syllables heavy with understanding. You felt the weight of his need, and your chest ached at the thought of leaving him alone. When he pulled away slightly, his eyes searched yours, full of longing, and you wondered if this cavern — this fragile warmth of firelight — was all he had.

When he placed you back down, you lingered in his arms a little longer, studying his eyes. You felt the pulse of connection between you, something that tethered you to him. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t want it to fade.

Morning came, and there was a hint of sunlight at the end of the tunnel, glaring like white light. The sound of nature echoed into the cave, with birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees. You could almost feel the sun on your skin, drawing you out, not because you were eager to leave, but because your body had been craving proper sunlight for a week, and your leg needed tending to.

You looked behind you, to König, and saw him hesitate. You could hear the wind blow outside as the gusts carried the clouds above, and soon the chamber in the cave was filled with specks of light from the cavern openings above. One lit König on the shoulder, and his skin immediately steamed; he jerked away from the light as if burned. You could see red marks on his skin, and you understood that he wouldn’t be seeing you off at the end of the tunnel. 

You walked back to where he was, his frame towering over yours easily. You held out your hand for him to take, and he stared at your open palm before he looked at your face, searching your eyes. 

“Can’t stay?” he echoed softly, the words fragile on his tongue. You smiled faintly and shook your head, reaching for his hand. Despite his palms dwarfing yours, his grasp was gentle, as if he feared that letting go would make you disappear.

“I’ll make sure to return, alright?” You said, tracing a lazy circle into his palm. You could see him tremble, like he didn’t want you to leave, but you’ve been deprived of sunlight, and you needed sustenance and aid.

"I'll be back, I promise," you reassure him again, but he won't let go of your hand. He hunched over and carefully pulled you in for a hug, his body shaking. You felt something warm and wet trail down your back, and you realized he was crying.

“König…I’ll come back, I promise I will,” you say, patting his shoulder. When he finally let you go, you could see the burlap soaked through; his blue eyes held a wistfulness to them.

You gesture for him to lean down, and when he did, you gave him a quick kiss on his covered cheek.

When you pulled away, you held his hand for a moment longer before you slowly limped back outside. 

He couldn’t follow; the sunlight would destroy him. Yet you heard the faint whispers he uttered behind you. The words were foreign to your ears, but their meaning reached you all the same — a quiet sorrow, a plea carried on the tremor of his voice.