Chapter 1
Someone Found in the Grass

"Aaravos!" Tienk calls, grasping at the clothes around Aaravos' legs, tugging gently.

"Yes, Tienk?" He replied, collected and calm, as always.

"There's a Ninnither outside!"

The statement almost made Aaravos drop the potted plant he was holding. Ninnithers aren't supposed to be anywhere near here. "What?" He asks, a certain bite to his tone.

"Outside! Its hurt, but I don't know how bad!"

Aaravos drops on his haunches to meet Tienik's eyes. "Is it unconscious, Tienik?"

"Yes."

"Take me to it."

After gathering a light jacket and a few supplies, Aaravos is out the door. He ties up his hair as he walks to keep it out of his face, shrugging on the jacket. Tienk takes off after Aaravos, he being abnormally large, and she being abnormally small, their strides are widely different. She runs ahead, the little trinkets that decorate her outfit jingling softly with every swift step. The bright colors help her stand out against the shrubbery, and Aaravos has never been more appreciative of her impractical outfit.

It takes them all but ten minutes of hurrying to reach the fallen Ninnither, just past the border of the cloaking spell Aaravos set years ago. Normally he'd be questioning Tienk on what she was doing so close to the border, but he had other matters to deal with. He dropped to his knees next to the Ninnither to truly assess the damage. Its body is littered with scars; all varying in size, length, and depth. Aaravos can only assume that this is a more... violent member of the species, judging by the number of fights it seems to get into and walk away from. Its back is also covered in fresh wounds, the dark blood only now crusting over the slashes in the Ninnither's back, any cloth that may have been there now gone.

"I want you to stay back, Tienk, it may be dangerous," Aarvos warns, putting his hand out to stop the ever-approaching goblin. She grumbles but hangs back anyway.

A dim, white glow covers the inside of Aaravos' hand. He hovers his hands against the back of the Ninnither, closing his eyes and clearing his mind.

"What are you doing?" Tienk asks, peering around Aaravos' back.

Aaravos huffs. "I'm looking," he replies, eyes still closed.

"Looking for what?"

"A soul, now be quiet. I need to focus, and you're ruining it."

Aaravos takes a deep breath. He reaches deep within himself until he feels as if he's floating; until the darkness behind his eyelids consumes him whole. He focuses on himself, his own being. He focuses on the soul inside him, the magic that runs through his and every other creature's veins. He focuses on the soul in the creature lying just below his hands. Then, he opens his eyes.

It's dark. The pitch-black feels inky and unfamiliar. Aaravos's body feels heavy and light at the same time like he's floating aimlessly in oil. Aaravos feels his soul search for the one he so wishes to be there with him. He pulses light, hoping to receive a pulse back. He does it again and again, praying for a response. For a long time, there is none.

Then, in the distance, the faintest pulse Aaravos has ever seen in his many years alive, replies. A tiny spark barely holding on. Aaravos hurries to reach it, keeping up his rhythmic pulsing to encourage it to continue doing the same. When his soul meets the other he can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of sorrow.

Aaravos wraps himself around the tiny spark. He burns bright to pass some of his light over to the soul of the Ninnither. Keep fighting, he thinks. Keep fighting. He keeps it up until the Ninnither burns a little brighter, then lets himself fall back into his own body.

When his eyes open, he feels tears running down his cheek. Odd, he thinks.

"Aaravos?" Tienk asks, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt a little tighter, her voice unusually quiet.

"We must move fast," Aaravos decides. He runs a hand down the Ninnither's cheek, the same faint white covering his palm. The Ninnither stirs, and Aaravos yanks his hand back and pushes Tienk behind him. He curses when the Ninnither's ears perk at the sound of her jingling.

Its eyes shoot open, pupils as thin as a needle. It growls, lunging forward, dragging its claws across Aaravos' face in an upward stroke. Instead of the blood it expected, splinters flew off of Aaravos' face, and four deep gashes remained in his cheek. Aaravos grimaces, the wounds already filling back in as his hand glows before it slammed into the Ninnither's head. It goes limp immediately, hand falling from behind him and gripping something tightly.

"What did you do!?" Tienk cried, jumping out from behind Aaravos.

"Sleeping charm. I didn't harm it," Aaravos almost growled. Then, he grabs the Ninither's arm and hauls it up, kicking away an oversized syringe, and carrying its weight along with him.

Despite his displeasure with the Ninnither, it has been a long time since Aaravos had moved with such urgency in his steps.