Torven's Mark wasn't Green, as Nox had assumed. Instead, a Blue healer's sign stretched across his back, from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. From a distance, it looked like a full moon, a perfect circle. But Nox could see from this short distance that one edge seemed slightly blurred, as if Torven had already used part of his power.

Nox immediately understood why the slave masters had wanted control over someone like Torven. Over his mark. Of course, the size of the mark didn't always match the strength of the Marked, but often the bigger the sign, the greater the power.

Torven's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He was already standing outside the tub, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Are you going to stay in that water much longer? It's getting cold."

But Nox didn't feel cold at all. Quite the opposite. As if on cue, his arousal stirred again under the water. He shifted slightly, trying to hide it beneath the ripples. Gods, not now. Not with Torven so close, standing half-naked just meters away, towel draped around his hips, looking like some careless invitation.

"I'm coming out," he replied, slightly panicked, with a hoarse voice. "Could you hand me a towel?"

Nox decided it would be best to cover himself up quickly. Torven moved swiftly, circling the tub. As he leaned forward to pass the towel, his scent hit Nox like a blow. Their fingers brushed, and it was like a spark jumped between them.

Torven didn't completely pull away and instead stood close as if he waited for Nox to get out. 'That's not helping at all', Nox muttered under his breath.

He felt Torven's eyes on him, scanning his body, and his skin turned red again. Eventually, he convinced himself it was just his body's natural reaction and stood up. 'Let the earth swallow me whole.' He thought to himself.

As he stood up, he saw Torven's eyes drop, just for a second. Nox tightly shut his eyes.

A moment later, Nox felt his arms wrapping around his waist. Torven was helping him wrap the towel around his hips. "Are you waiting for me to dry you off, too?" Torven asked with a teasing smile.

"No, I just... got lightheaded from the heat," Nox lied, clumsily stepping out of the tub. He was mortified. He just wanted to hide, to vanish.

At the same time, deep inside, he felt a strange joy thinking back about Torven's Mark; he had found what he'd been looking for. It felt like a convenient moment to shift the conversation.

"Can I ask you something?", Nox asked.

Torven chuckled, glancing down at the towel around his waist. "While we're wrapped in damp cloths and dripping all over the floor? Bold choice. How about we continue this in the sitting room?"

Nox blushed again. Fair enough. Two grown men, barely covered in towels, talking about life in a bathroom wasn't the most fitting scene.

His head was spinning so much with thoughts, he didn't even remember how he'd dressed or when exactly they moved back to the sitting room.

Nox sat in the armchair while Torven stood beside the lit-up fireplace and decided to start again.

"Can I ask, was it you who healed me?"

Torven sighed, drawing a slow breath.

"Yes. I healed you. I couldn't leave you there."
He paused, then added, "At first, I was angry that you showed up in my life. I won't lie. I thought you had come with bad intentions. But the more I watched your determination, the more I saw how alike we are. Maybe too alike. I had doubts. I was cautious. But when you got yourself hurt... when you fell into that trap... my legs carried me to you on their own."

He fell silent again.

Nox had the distinct feeling that Torven wanted to say something more. But he didn't in the end.

Nox's heart pounded in his chest, he was confused, but somehow... Thrilled.
For some time, he was sitting quietly, thinking about Torven's words.

Suddenly, something else crossed his mind. A memory. As if he had seen Torven's Mark before. 'Could it mean we've met before?' No... it couldn't be. And yet...

As a child, he remembered seeing slave owners leading a chain of shackled prisoners. Behind them, a cart drawn by two horses was piled high with corpses. It was one of those scenes burned forever into his memory. Among the bodies, there had been a young boy, maybe thirteen, face down... with a Mark eerily similar to Torven's on his back.

He hesitated, unsure whether he should ask, but finally gave in:

"Can I ask... how did you escape the slave masters?"

Torven stood by the fireplace, he didn't speak right away. When he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"To answer your question, it wasn't anything heroic, we were just... desperate. One day, Velkan and I managed to hide among the corpses. The ones they periodically transported out of the mine. We laid down and held still. We didn't breathe too loudly. Just like that, beside the dead, waiting to be disposed of, like others. Like trash.
They threw us into a pit with the rest and drove off. We landed hard, and I cracked a couple of ribs. It hurt so much I had to bite down on my hand. We waited until dark. No stars, no moon, just the smell of rot, dried up blood and dirt in our mouths. When we climbed out, we didn't even know where we were. Just trees. We ran without direction, barefoot and half-starved, and stayed in the woods. It took a long time to recover from that place. We hunted, then worked for blacksmiths, sold chopped wood... Eventually, we started taking mercenary jobs. We'd built names for ourselves, not good ones, but enough to be left alone. That's how we ended up here in the North. This is our home now"

Nox was silent. 'It was him after all...' he thought to himself.

He didn't have any more questions. He just nodded. His head was spinning.

Torven walked to a small cabinet, pulled out a bottle of whisky and two glasses.

"Drink?" he asked.

Nox agreed, but as he took the glass from Torven, his hands started shaking. A memory flickered, the last time he drank. When he was too trusting and hadn't known the danger in letting his guard down. That night had carved something out of him, part of his soul. Now, just the scent of alcohol stirred unease in his gut, and the warmth of Torven's presence that a moment ago seemed comforting suddenly felt heavy.

Torven said nothing at first, simply watching him for a moment longer. Then, with a quiet ease that made it feel natural, he reached out, took the glass from Nox's hand, and set both drinks down on the table beside them. "Maybe later," he said with a warm tone and suggested a walk instead of a toast.

They stepped outside into the cool night. The air smelled of pine as a hint of smoke was drifting in from the mansion chimney. The gravel path crunched beneath their boots as they walked slowly, side by side.

Torven walked with his hands in his trousers pockets, head slightly bowed, as if he were deep in thought. Nox kept his arms crossed, still feeling the lingering warmth from the bath, now cooled by the night air. Their shoulders brushed once, unintentionally, but neither of them stepped away.

"Are you okay?" Torven finally asked, glancing sideways.

Nox nodded after a pause. "Yeah," he said, though it wasn't entirely true. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just full of something neither of them had figured out how to name yet.