The room felt suffocatingly quiet, Laura’s breaths steadying as she tried to piece herself back together. The grip on her throat had left a phantom echo of pain, a reminder of how close she’d come. She shifted slightly, her head still heavy as she struggled to lift it from Chan’s chest. His arms, awkward but steady, wrapped around her, holding her like he wasn’t sure if she’d fall apart or bolt the second she moved.
Her throat burned as she coughed, breaking the silence with a raspy chuckle. “Damn,” she rasped, her voice rough but edged with grim humor. “This’ll definitely bruise tomorrow.”
Chan’s face remained etched with worry, his dark eyes darting over her, searching for answers she couldn’t yet give. “Laura... what—?”
She waved him off weakly, pulling herself to her feet with shaky determination. The room spun, and she braced herself against the wall, her head pounding. “Help me up,” she murmured.
Chan obeyed, still silent, as he steadied her, but the confusion and anger in his expression were impossible to ignore. Laura’s legs wobbled as she moved toward the bed, only to collapse onto its edge, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath.
Her fingers closed around the medallion still clutched in her hand. It felt heavier now, as though it carried all the weight of the chaos she’d just endured. Slowly, she slipped it into the makeshift pocket of her tank top, the faint curve of her body shielding its faint glow.
Chan sat beside her, his presence grounding but buzzing with tension. His gaze flicked between her and Elias’s unconscious form, sprawled on the floor like a discarded puppet. “What the hell just happened?” he demanded finally.
Laura didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reached for Chan’s knife, pulling it free from his belt with a deliberate motion. The blade gleamed faintly in the dim light as she nudged Elias over with her boot, crouching beside him with the weapon poised at his throat.
“Laura?” Chan’s voice sharpened, his confusion giving way to alarm. “What’s going on?”
Her laugh was bitter, almost hollow. “Wasn’t what you saw enough for you? Weren’t you the one suspicious of him all this time?”
“Well, yeah, but c’mon, the guy’s knocked out. It’s not like you’re... is it?”
Her fingers trembled slightly against the knife, her gaze locked on Elias’s face. “Screw you, Chan.” Her voice cracked, a jagged edge to her tone that made him flinch. She pressed the blade just close enough to draw a shallow line of blood across his skin.
And then she stopped.
Laura straightened, her hand lowering the knife with a trembling exhale. “I really wish Reed was here right now,” she muttered, her words tinged with frustration and something heavier. “He’d have no regrets or doubts about offing this bastard.”
She rose to her full height, towering over Elias’s still form. Her skirt—leather straps that swayed with each movement—hung just above him, the angle almost obscene. A flicker of a smile crossed her lips, bitter and fleeting. “Bet he’d love this view if he could see it now.”
Chan watched her warily, his jaw tightening as she glanced back at him. “Let’s tie him up,” she said briskly, holding out a hand for the rope still hanging from his belt.
Chan hesitated, his voice low but urgent. “Laura, wait a second. Just... c’mon. What’s going on? I’m so confused right now.”
As she tied Elias’s hands and feet with meticulous precision, gagging him for good measure, Laura finally began to explain. Her voice was steady, the tremor of her earlier fear buried under layers of practiced calm.
“Drennavar and I spotted this guy way back in Burgh,” she began, her words slow and deliberate. “A caravan leader who regularly comes and goes. And this medallion—” She pulled it out, holding it up for Chan to see. The glow caught the faintest light, casting eerie reflections across her dark skin. “—we’ve been clocking this thing for a while.”
She paused, her thumb brushing over the medallion’s etched surface. It was small enough to fit snugly in her palm, thin but deceptively sturdy, its material a striking blend of obsidian and bronze. Intricate patterns carved into its surface depicted a serpent swallowing its tail—an unmistakable nod to time, cycles, and the creeping influence it held. At its center, a black opal gleamed faintly, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat, hinting at the dormant energy within. “After Denzel left for his ‘mystic destiny quest’ or whatever, and we stumbled onto Elias’s caravan... it just clicked.”
Chan’s expression was a mix of awe and disbelief, his mind racing to catch up. “And who else knew about this? Was all this just to steal this thing?”
Laura tucked the medallion back into its hiding place, her gaze softening slightly as she looked at him. “No one knew,” she admitted. “There was no grand plan, Chan. Just instinct.” She paused, her voice quieter. “Thanks for staying with me. You didn’t have to, but you did.”
Her hand brushed his cheek briefly—a fleeting, intimate gesture—before a noise outside broke the moment. Both of them tensed, their attention snapping to the door as the muffled sounds of confusion drifted in from the town square.
When they stepped outside, the scene that greeted them was chaos.
Caravan workers stumbled through the streets, their expressions dazed and lost. Guards argued with locals, trying to make sense of the sudden amnesia that seemed to grip everyone. Vendors stared at their wares, blinking as though unsure how they’d ended up behind their stalls. Every story, every fragment, boiled down to one common thread: Elias. And the medallion.
Laura and Chan looked at each other. Chan’s voice was low, quiet. “So I WAS right? He did control you?”
Laura’s gaze hardened as she reached behind her belt and pulled out a small vial of viscous, almost oily violet liquid. “I’m not some dumb bimbo, Chan,” she replied, her voice equally low. As if the vial itself were the answer, she slipped it back behind her belt without further explanation.
They turned their attention back to the chaos unfolding before them, watching the confused caravan workers shuffle and murmur. Laura’s expression shifted, a quiet determination settling over her features. She gestured toward the building they’d just left.
“They want answers? Let’s give them answers. I bet the bastard is awake now.”
Chan nodded reluctantly and disappeared back inside. Laura, meanwhile, moved purposefully toward the central square. Along the way, she grabbed a pipe from one of the abandoned stalls, its weight satisfying in her grip.
Once at the center of the square, she slammed the pipe against a metal pole several times. The loud, clanging noise cut through the din, drawing the attention she needed. People turned toward her, their expressions a mix of confusion, fear, and curiosity.
“Folk,” Laura began, her voice carrying over the quiet. “All of you now are wondering: the hell am I doing here? What happened? What am I selling and why?” She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. “And all of you remember one man, the man responsible for everything, including your missing time.”
As if on cue, Chan emerged from the building, dragging Elias behind him. The man’s hands and feet were still bound, and Chan unceremoniously leaned him against a nearby stall. Elias’s eyes burned with fury, and though his mouth was gagged, muffled curses and unintelligible sounds spilled out.
Laura jabbed the pipe in his direction. “This man!” she exclaimed. “Used...” She hesitated briefly, debating whether to reveal the medallion’s true nature. “...an unknown power to control all of you. He did the same with me, and only a... miraculous set of circumstances helped me to see the truth.”
As she spoke, the crowd closed in around her, forming a loose circle. Parents clutched their children tightly, their faces etched with anger and uncertainty. Some muttered under their breath, while others glared at Elias, their rage simmering just below the surface. Nearby, members of the local ex-raider militia leaned against walls or watched from doorways, their expressions a mixture of amazement and curiosity. It wasn’t often that anything this dramatic happened in their quiet town.
Elias squirmed, his muffled protests growing more frantic as the crowd’s attention turned fully toward him. Laura met their gazes steadily, her grip tightening on the pipe.
“So,” she said, her voice sharp and clear. “What do you want to do with him?” She gestured toward Elias with the pipe, her words cutting through the charged silence like a blade.
Chan moved to Elias and ungagged him, stepping back cautiously as Elias’s eyes darted around, taking in the faces of those who had only recently been under his control. His lips curled into a sneer, and he raised his voice, filled with defiance.
“I made you all!” he shouted, his tone venomous. “You were NOTHING before me! Farmers, scavengers, hunters?” He spat at the ground, barely keeping his balance as he swayed on unsteady legs. “None of that would amount to anything. I gave you all PURPOSE!”
His words hung in the air, but none of them landed. The crowd’s reaction wasn’t the awe or loyalty he was used to. Instead, it was fury. A hulking man from the crowd stepped forward and delivered a brutal punch to Elias’s jaw, sending him staggering.
“You made me leave my family!” the man bellowed. “How many years ago?!”
Another voice joined, sharp with anger. “My life is gone. Who cares about your fucking purpose?”
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The floodgates opened. One by one, people began shouting their grievances, their voices rising in a chaotic chorus of betrayal and pain. Laura stood back, watching with a faint smirk as she gently massaged her bruised throat, her fingers brushing over the sore skin. She couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Elias getting knocked around, his arrogance stripped away with every blow.
But then the tide shifted. The anger turned darker, more violent. A man pulled an axe from his belt, stepping forward with dangerous intent. Laura and Chan exchanged a glance, both reading the same thing in each other’s eyes. With a weary sigh, Laura stepped forward, raising her free hand.
“Guys. Guys!” she called out, her voice firm but tired. The crowd hesitated, the tension in the air holding taut as she continued. “I have a better idea. Let him go...” A murmur rippled through the crowd, some looking ready to protest. Laura cut them off before they could.
“I don’t mean forgive him,” she added sharply. “Let him go. Exile him into the wastes. He’s nothing without his gimmick. People like him never are.”
The man with the axe stared at her, his grip still tight on Elias’s collar. Slowly, he released it, letting Elias fall to the ground with a heavy thud. The fight seemed to drain from the air, replaced by murmurs of reluctant agreement. Chan stepped forward and, with deliberate motions, cut the ropes binding Elias’s hands and feet.
Elias sat on the ground, looking around like a caged predator searching for an escape. His eyes darted wildly, but no option presented itself. He slumped, his shoulders sagging in defeat. A fighter he was not.
The resolution came quickly. Two members of the local ex-raider militia approached with casual authority. One spoke, his voice rough but resolute.
“You are no longer welcome in Glasspine.”
They hauled Elias to his feet and began dragging him toward the makeshift gates. His once-pristine silk shirt was filthy, his pants torn, his entire demeanor a far cry from the powerful figure he once projected. At the gate, one of the guards shoved him outside, watching as he stumbled into the dusty wasteland.
Before the gates closed, one of the guards tossed him a flask of water. “That should last you a week,” the guard muttered, almost to himself. “It did for me once.”
Elias stood outside the gates, watching them close with a defeated glare. The sound of the wooden bars locking into place echoed faintly, sealing his fate. Laura and Chan, standing near the square, exchanged glances, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily between them.
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With one problem out of the way, the silence of uncertainty hung around the town square. What now? Some people had been under Elias’s control for years. They didn’t know where their homes were anymore or what to do with their lives now that the veil had been lifted.
An older woman stepped forward, her movements slow but deliberate. She approached Laura, who now sat on the edge of a well—or at least what looked like one. No one had dared to test the murky liquid it held. Laura’s head hung low, her fingers absentmindedly massaging her still-aching throat.
“Honey, what should we do now?” the woman asked, her voice soft but carrying the weight of everyone’s uncertainty.
Laura blinked, lifting her gaze to meet the woman’s. She hesitated, clearly caught off guard.
“Uh, whatever you want,” she said, glancing around at the expectant faces now locked on her. A sliver of realization began to creep into her mind. “You’re all free to do whatever you want to do.”
The woman shook her head, her lined face shadowed with concern. “Honey, most of us have nowhere to return to anymore. After so many years, all we remember is how to work here.” She gestured toward the people behind her, some nodding in agreement. “This is all we have.”
Laura let out a long, frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, so what are you saying? What are you suggesting?”
The woman’s lips curled into a small, hopeful smile. “We followed Elias unknowingly. Now we’ll follow you on our own will.”
Laura’s eyes widened, the full weight of what the woman was implying hitting her. “Oh, me? Oh, no. No! I have a life, other... engagements.”
The older woman remained undeterred, stepping closer with a knowing look. “I bet those engagements would benefit greatly from having a bunch of hard-working people around.”
Before Laura could respond, the tension in the square broke slightly with Chan’s chuckle. He leaned casually against a post, arms crossed, and grinned.
“Laura? In charge? That’ll be a sight to see,” he said, his tone light as he winked at her.
She shot him an unamused glare, but his comment tipped the balance. It was as though the challenge in his voice sparked something in her.
“Fine,” she said with a heavy sigh, standing to her feet and brushing herself off. “But let’s deal with the details tomorrow. I really need a break from all of this for a while.”
A wave of murmurs spread through the crowd, some voices carrying relief while others nodded in tentative agreement. The older woman’s smile widened, and she stepped back into the group, her expression one of satisfaction. Laura exchanged a glance with Chan, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, You’re going to be great at this.
She wasn’t so sure. But for now, she’d bought herself time.
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As the crowd slowly dispersed toward their resting places—rooms, makeshift shelters, or wherever they could find peace—Chan lingered near Laura. She had already retreated to Elias’s old room, now hers by default. He followed her silently, watching as she moved with deliberate focus, picking up the shattered pieces of the pot they had used earlier. Her motions were steady, purposeful, and he hesitated at the door, unsure if he should speak.
Something about the way she worked made him pause. It wasn’t just the exhaustion they all felt; it was the calm determination she radiated. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again, turning instead to head toward his own room in another structure.
He’d only taken a few steps when her voice called out behind him.
“Hon, where are you going?”
He turned back to see her leaning out into the corridor, just her head visible. Her wide eyes and slightly tilted head made her look unexpectedly… cute. Almost disarmingly so. He hesitated, reading the spark of amusement in her expression. Was she teasing him? Or something more?
“Uhm,” he began, gesturing vaguely toward his building, “going to my room.”
“Hon, we’re here together, aren’t we?” she said, the faintest sparkle of laughter in her eyes making her tone impossible to pin down. She was definitely teasing now.
Chan blinked, caught off guard but unable to suppress a small smile. With a slight shake of his head, he turned back and stepped into her room. She closed the door behind him, her hand resting on his chest as she moved close.
Her voice softened, the teasing edge gone. “You might think I didn’t notice or forgot,” she said quietly, her eyes searching his. “But with all my careful planning, you ended up saving my life.”
Chan’s hands instinctively came to rest on her shoulders. The warmth of her skin beneath his fingers sent an unintended flash of memory through his mind: her punching Denzel for touching her shoulder all those years ago. He almost laughed at the thought but kept it to himself.
“Of course,” he said, his voice light, “what are friends for?” He looked into her eyes, letting the playful tone linger just enough to see if she’d catch it.
Oh, she caught it. Laura gasped theatrically, one hand flying to her chest in mock shock. Then, with a gentle but deliberate motion, she punched his chest. Not hard, but enough to draw a grin from both of them.
They moved into an embrace, the teasing moment melting into something simpler. Their arms wrapped around each other in a warm, exhausted hug. Neither of them cared to label whatever it was between them. For now, it was enough just to share the quiet comfort of the moment, letting the weight of the day slip away. Whatever it was—whatever it might become—was a matter for another day.
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It was much later at night. The quiet stillness of the room was broken only by the soft rhythm of Chan’s calm, even breaths as he slept. Laura stirred beside him, her movements deliberate and careful not to wake him. She slipped out of the bed, her bare form illuminated by the pale rays of moon and starlight streaming through the window. The light cast her silhouette in stark relief, accentuating her lean, scarred frame.
Moving silently, she reached for her belongings and drew out Elias’s medallion. Its faint glow pulsed weakly in her palm, far dimmer than it had been when it hung around Elias’s neck. She studied it intently, turning it over in her fingers, her eyes narrowing with focused curiosity. The etchings and gemstone seemed almost inert now, but she could feel it—something lingered beneath the surface.
Laura slipped back into bed, the medallion still clutched in her hand. She lay on her side, staring at the artifact as though willing it to reveal its secrets.
“Well,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Will you tell me your story?”
The medallion, of course, did not answer. Its glow remained faint and steady, offering no revelations. But Laura knew, deep down, that this was no ordinary trinket. What had started as a calculated theft had turned into something far more significant. The medallion had become a puzzle, a mystery that now burned in her mind as much as it glowed in her hand.
She held it close, letting the faint warmth of the metal seep into her skin. Whatever its secrets were, whatever power it held, she knew one thing with certainty: she had no intention of parting with it.
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The early morning light filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting a soft glow over the room. Laura stirred awake, her body heavy with the exhaustion of the previous day. She lingered for a moment, her gaze shifting to Chan, still fast asleep beside her. His face, relaxed and unguarded in sleep, carried a quiet strength. The lines of his sharp cheekbones and the faint shadow of stubble gave him an almost statuesque quality, but there was an unexpected softness there, too—a stark contrast to the wiry energy he carried while awake.
Her throat throbbed as she swallowed, the bruising from Elias’s grip now dark and vivid against her skin. She winced slightly, then carefully slipped out of bed, her movements slow to avoid waking him. Her bare feet padded against the cool floor, and as she stretched, the moonlight from the previous night gave way to the gentle warmth of dawn, highlighting her deep brown skin. The soft light seemed to accentuate the curves of her form, her strength balanced with grace.
Chan stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked groggily and turned his head to watch her, his gaze lingering for a moment.
“Do we have to?” he asked, his voice raspy with sleep, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Laura glanced at him over her shoulder, already reaching for her clothes. She began dressing, pulling on her well-worn leather tank top and fastening the belt around her skirt of leather straps.
“Yes, lover boy, we have to,” she replied, her tone teasing but firm. “Thanks to you, we now have a whole caravan of confused and lost people to manage.”
Chan grinned and sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me? What did I do?”
Fully dressed now, Laura picked up a strip of cloth from her belongings and wrapped it around her throat, her fingers deft as she secured it in place. She paused, giving him a pointed look.
“Oh, if not for your remark, I would never have agreed to this,” she said, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
She leaned down, pressing a quick, warm kiss to his cheek. “Get up, get up, get up. We have yet another ‘perfect’ day in this ‘perfect’ world to live through.” With a swift motion, she snatched the blanket off him in one pull, laughing softly at his groan of protest.
Moments later, they stepped out into the brisk morning air. The town square was already stirring with activity. Laura’s gaze swept over the scene: families packing their belongings, preparing to leave; vendors setting up their stalls as though the previous day’s chaos had been nothing more than a passing storm. Amid it all, the older woman from the day before waved at Laura, a warm smile on her face.
Laura and Chan made their way to the square, stopping to speak with the woman. Several hours of discussions followed as the caravan members gathered to decide their next steps. For some, the choice was clear: they would leave, seeking out whatever remnants of their old lives they could find. But for many, the decision was harder. Years under Elias’s control had left them with nowhere to go, no homes to return to, and no sense of purpose beyond the caravan.
In the end, a plan was formed. The caravan would retrace Elias’s route through the wastes, visiting the places people still remembered from before they were taken. For those with homes to return to, the caravan would provide safe passage. For those who chose to stay, the caravan would become a new community, one built on mutual support and survival. Whatever trade opportunities arose along the way would be an added bonus.
As the meeting drew to a close, Laura stood at the center of the square, the weight of leadership settling on her shoulders. She glanced at Chan, who offered her a reassuring smile. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, they had a direction. And that was enough.