Chapter 7 Fleeting connection

Two days had passed since Zazriel had started taking care of the injured young man. Finally, on a quiet afternoon, his eyelids fluttered open. He blinked against the light filtering through the window, his surroundings slowly coming into focus.

A woman stood by the window, waving down to the street below. Confused, he turned his head to take in the small room, the cot he was lying on, and the faded walls adorned with cheerful drawings.

"Excuse me," he croaked, his voice raspy from disuse. "Who are you? Where am I?"

Zazriel turned around, startled but quickly gathering her composure. Her heart raced as she met his piercing blue eyes, so striking against his pale skin and tousled black hair. "I'm Zazriel," she said, stepping closer to the bed. "You're at St. Haven's Orphanage. We found you injured in the alley five days ago."

He furrowed his brow, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. "St. Haven's? I don't... I don't remember. How did I get here?"

"You were hurt," she explained gently. "Alden and I found you and brought you here. We were worried you might not wake up."

"Who is Alden?" he asked, still trying to shake the fog from his mind.

Just then, the door swung open, and Alden burst into the room, his face beaming with excitement. "He's awake! He's finally awake!" he announced, practically bouncing on his heels.

He paused, noticing the intensity of the moment between Zazriel and the young man. "Oh, um... hi! I'm Alden. I'll go get Sister Margarete and the priest!"

Before Zazriel could respond, Alden dashed out of the room, leaving her alone with the young man.

"So... your name is Zazriel," Troi said, his gaze lingering on her. "What a unique name."

"Thank you," she replied, feeling a shy smile tug at her lips. "What about you? What's your name?"

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the importance of the name he was about to reveal. "Troi. My name is Troi."

"Troi," she repeated, letting the name settle in her mind. "It's nice to meet you. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

Troi's expression darkened slightly as he searched for his memories. "I was... with my fellow knights. We were on a mission. There was an ambush. I don't know what happened after that. I must have been separated from them."

Zazriel nodded, her curiosity piqued. "You're a knight?"

"Yes, or at least I was," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "I need to find my comrades. They might be in trouble."

"Maybe they're looking for you too," she said, her brow furrowed in concern. "But for now, you need to rest and recover. You were hurt badly."

Troi looked at her intently, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and worry. "You... you stayed by my side?"

She felt her cheeks warm. "Yes, I wanted to make sure you were okay. You've been unconscious for a while. Alden and I took turns looking after you."

His blue eyes softened as he studied her brown ones, searching for sincerity. "Thank you, Zazriel. I owe you my life."

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. "You would have done the same for someone else, right?"

He nodded, but there was a hint of seriousness in his expression. "I would have. But it's not often someone risks their safety for a stranger. Not in my world."

Just then, Alden returned, closely followed by Sister Margarete and the priest, their faces alight with concern and relief.

"There you are!" Sister Margarete exclaimed, rushing to Troi's side. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm... alright," Troi replied, though he could feel the weight of their stares. "Just a bit confused."

"Understandably so," the priest said kindly. "You've been through quite an ordeal. Let's give you some time to recover, and then we'll see how we can help you further."

As they began to check on him, Zazriel stole a glance at Troi, whose blue eyes were now clouded with thought, his mind racing with unanswered questions. She sensed his worry about his fellow knights, but she also felt a strange connection between them, one that hinted at the adventures that lay ahead.

.

.

Two days passed quietly at the orphanage, and in that time, Troi found himself growing familiar with its residents. The children were as curious as they were kind, filling the orphanage with laughter and questions, especially about him.

One afternoon, Troi sat on a bench near the small garden, watching a group of little ones play. Zazriel sat nearby, catching her breath after a round of chasing the younger kids.

"Troi," she said, glancing over at him. "The children really seem to like you. You're a bit of a mystery to them."

Troi raised an eyebrow, managing a faint smile. "It's not hard to be mysterious when you don't say much."

Alden, who had been helping Sofia and Clay repair a loose fence nearby, chimed in. "You don't talk much, but... you're definitely not from around here, are you?" His voice was curious, not prying.

Troi gave a small nod. "No, I'm not. I come from... well, let's just say somewhere a bit more crowded."

Sofia, a girl with sharp eyes and a quick smile, gave him an appraising look. "Your clothes gave that away. They're fine-finer than most anyone here owns."

Troi shifted slightly, as if uncomfortable. "I'm a knight," he replied simply. "That's all."

Zazriel tilted her head, watching him with quiet interest. "Just a knight? I don't know many knights who end up here in Ellsmere, alone and injured."

Troi met her gaze, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something more serious in his blue eyes. "It's... a long story. Maybe one day I'll tell it. For now, it's probably best if you don't ask too many questions."

Alden shrugged, sensing the weight in Troi's voice. "Fair enough. Anyway, the younger kids keep asking if you're here to protect us." He grinned. "Said you look like you could be a prince."

Troi let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I'm no prince, that's for sure. Just someone passing through. Besides," he added, glancing back at the bustling orphanage, "it looks like you've all done a fine job protecting yourselves here."

Zazriel smiled softly. "We do what we can. This is home, after all."

,,,,

Troi sat alone in a quiet corner of the orphanage, a faded map spread out before him on the table. His eyes traced the familiar routes, though he knew each turn by heart. He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Zazriel approach until she spoke.

"Studying the map again, Troi?" she asked softly, peering over his shoulder.

He looked up, his expression guarded. "Yes. I need to be sure of the roads... I'll need to leave soon."

Zazriel nodded, her gaze lingering on his face. "Are you going back to... wherever it is you came from?"

"Yes," he said, a bit too quickly, then hesitated. "It's... complicated. There are people waiting for me. I can't stay here much longer."

She studied him, curiosity flickering in her brown eyes. "But where is it you're going, really? I mean, you never talk about your life outside of here."

Troi's jaw tightened as he carefully folded the map. "Let's just say... I have responsibilities I can't ignore. People depending on me."

She watched him, sensing his reluctance to reveal more. "You know, everyone here-Alden, the kids-they're all curious about you. And... so am I. But I guess you're not ready to tell us who you really are?"

A flicker of a smile crossed his face, but his eyes remained unreadable. "Troi is enough for now. It's safer that way." He glanced at the map once more. "I should be back with my-friends. I never meant to end up here in Ellsmere."

Zazriel's voice softened. "I hope you find what you're looking for, then. And that... maybe you'll remember us when you do."

Troi nodded, his gaze serious. "I won't forget," he promised, though something in his expression made her wonder if he was saying goodbye already.

,,,

On the third night, the orphanage lay in peaceful silence, the soft breathing of children filling the rooms. Troi moved quietly down the dim hallway, his pack slung over one shoulder. He didn't look back, though he could feel the weight of the place tugging at him more than he'd expected.

As he approached the main door, he nearly ran into the priest, who stood just outside his chamber, candle in hand.

"Troi," the priest said softly, as if he'd been waiting. "It's time, isn't it?"

Troi nodded, his gaze steady. "I have to go, Father. I've already stayed longer than I should have."

The priest sighed, not with disappointment but understanding. "I expected as much. There's a village up the road where you'll find a stable. The blacksmith there is trustworthy-he'll help you buy a horse."

Troi reached into his cloak, pulling out a small, heavy pouch and placing it in the priest's hands. "Here. Ten gold coins. It should be enough to help cover what the children need... for a while, at least."

The priest's eyes widened as he felt the weight of the coins. "Troi, this is... generous. You have done more for us than you realize." He looked at Troi, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you."

Troi only nodded, unable to put words to the strange mix of relief and sadness welling inside him. "They helped me, Father. It's the least I can do."

The priest placed a gentle hand on Troi's shoulder, his voice low. "You have a duty waiting for you, I can see that. But know that you'll always have a place here. And there's one person, especially, who'll miss you."

Troi glanced down the hall toward the small rooms where the children and older orphans slept, and he allowed himself a fleeting thought of Zazriel-her kind brown eyes, the way she watched him with curiosity and warmth. But he pushed it aside, giving the priest a solemn nod. "Thank you. For everything."

Without another word, he turned and stepped into the cool night air, walking away from the orphanage with measured steps.