“You think this town’s weird, right?” Caelus finally broke the silence, his voice low but edged with unease.

As usual, he and Lorian shared a room. They stepped inside, greeted by the familiar modesty of their accommodations. The room was small but tidy, its wooden furniture bearing the soft scars of time—nicks on the edges of the nightstand, a slight wobble to the single chair by the window. Pale moonlight filtered through a thin curtain, casting faint patterns across the neatly made beds.

Caelus sat heavily on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floorboards. His thoughts churned with fragments of the day, from cryptic glances exchanged by townsfolk to the strange undercurrent of tension that seemed to linger in the air. Across the room, Lorian was unfastening the straps of his pack, casually pulling out a few essentials for the night—a worn journal, a waterskin, and Cheese, who plopped out like a squishy passenger.

Lorian turned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he settled cross-legged on his bed. “Yeah, it’s... a little strange,” he admitted after a moment. His golden eyes reflected the dim light, his usual playful demeanour replaced by a rare seriousness. “But what can we really do about it tonight? Let’s call it a day and keep a closer eye out tomorrow.”

Cheese wiggled in agreement, its body glowing faintly with contentment. It made its way to Lorian’s lap, snuggling into the folds of his robe.

Caelus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right,” he said reluctantly, leaning back on his hands. His gaze drifted to the window, where the faint outline of the town’s rooftops stood silhouetted against the darkening sky. “It’s been a long day, and my brain’s too fried to make sense of anything right now.”

Lorian flashed a reassuring smile, reaching over to ruffle Cheese’s gelatinous head. “Exactly. Sleep now, think later.”

The room fell quiet, the only sounds the soft creaks of the wooden building settling into the night and the distant hum of wind brushing against the walls. Caelus stretched out on the bed, letting his body relax against the thin but surprisingly comfortable mattress. For now, they’d let the mysteries of the strange town rest, but an unspoken understanding passed between them. Tomorrow would bring answers—or more questions.

The inn was steeped in silence, the kind that presses against the ears and amplifies every creak and rustle. Outside, a faint wind whispered through the cracks in the shutters, but within the small room, all was still. Lorian had drifted into a light sleep, curled on his side with Cheese nestled against his chest like a child clutching a favorite toy. The little slime glowed faintly, its soft luminescence a small comfort in the darkness. Across the room, Caelus lay sprawled on his bed, his breathing steady as sleep claimed him too.

Hours passed, the night deepening into a quiet void.

Lorian stirred first, mumbling incoherently as his body shifted under the covers. His eyes fluttered open, bleary with sleep, and he groaned softly. “Just the bathroom…” he muttered, his voice thick with grogginess. Careful not to wake Cheese, he set the slime gently onto the pillow and slipped his feet into the inn-provided slippers, their worn soles slapping softly against the wooden floor.

The dim room offered little light save for the faint glow from Cheese, but Lorian didn’t need much. He shuffled past Caelus’s bed, careful not to disturb his companion. The floorboards groaned under his weight, the sound unnervingly loud in the oppressive quiet.

The bathroom door creaked as he pushed it open, stepping into the small, windowless space. A faint, damp chill hung in the air, and the single lantern mounted on the wall flickered weakly. Lorian relieved himself quickly, eager to return to the relative warmth of his bed. Afterward, he approached the old porcelain basin, the faucet letting out a sputtering groan as he turned it on.

The water was cool against his hands, the sensation pulling him further from his sleepy haze. Cupping some water, he splashed his face, the droplets sliding down his skin in tiny rivulets. He sighed in mild relief, blinking at the mirror above the basin as he straightened.

And then he froze.

The reflection looking back at him wasn’t his own.

In the faint, flickering lantern light, the mirror showed a face—twisted and grotesque, with sunken, hollow eyes that burned with a faint red glow. The skin was pallid and stretched unnaturally over sharp bones, the mouth twisted into a chilling grin that revealed jagged, blackened teeth.

Lorian’s breath caught in his throat, his body locking in place. The face in the mirror leaned forward, its grin widening unnaturally as it tilted its head.

The room grew colder. The light of the lantern dimmed further, casting the bathroom into near darkness save for the faint crimson glint of the figure’s eyes in the glass.

“Not yours…” the figure hissed, its voice a broken whisper that echoed unnaturally in the small space.

Lorian stumbled back, his hip hitting the edge of the sink as he gasped for air. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a thunderous roar in his ears. Summoning what courage he could muster, he spun around, eyes darting frantically across the empty bathroom.

Nothing.

He turned back to the mirror, and his reflection was normal again—his own face, pale and wide-eyed, staring back at him.

He didn’t move, trembling as his gaze flicked to the corners of the bathroom, then back to the mirror. A bead of water dripped from the faucet, breaking the oppressive silence with a soft plink.

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“Just… a trick of the light,” Lorian whispered shakily to himself, though his voice lacked conviction. He gripped the edge of the basin, trying to steady his breathing.

But as he turned to leave, the faintest sound reached his ears—a raspy exhale, like a breath drawn from decayed lungs.

Behind him, in the rippling surface of the mirror, a figure emerged—a face he instantly recognized as the stablekeeper. But it wasn’t the man he had seen earlier that day. No, this version was grotesque, twisted. The stablekeeper’s mouth stretched into an unnatural, chilling grin, lips pulled taut to reveal blackened teeth. His sunken eyes gleamed with a wicked malevolence, the irises the sickly yellow that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.

A low, guttural sound rumbled from the reflection as the stablekeeper tilted his head unnaturally to the side, the movement accompanied by a sickening crack.

“Ah!” Lorian yelped, stumbling backward, his foot catching on the uneven wooden floor. His heart thundered as he spun around, his hands gripping the edge of the sink for balance.

The space behind him was empty.

Lorian’s breaths came quick and shallow, his chest heaving. He whipped back toward the mirror, but the face was gone. His own pale, terrified reflection stared back at him. The lantern above flickered violently, casting shifting shadows across the room.

The sound of rapid footsteps thundered outside, and the bathroom door burst open. Caelus stood in the doorway, sword drawn, the blade gleaming in the weak light. His stance was rigid, his eyes sharp as they scanned the room for any sign of danger.

“What happened?” Caelus demanded, his voice low and tense, his knuckles white on the hilt of his sword.

Lorian’s mouth opened, but words failed him for a moment. His throat felt dry, his hands trembling at his sides. He gestured weakly toward the mirror, his voice finally escaping in a hushed, shaky tone. “I-I saw… something. The stablekeeper… but it wasn’t him. He was… twisted. Watching me. Smiling…”

Caelus stepped further into the cramped space, his eyes narrowing as he turned his gaze toward the mirror. He angled his sword to catch the reflection, his every movement deliberate and precise. The room fell into an oppressive silence, save for the faint, unsteady drip of the faucet.

“Nothing’s here now,” Caelus murmured, his tone laced with suspicion. He sheathed his sword but kept his hand on the hilt as he turned back to Lorian. “Are you sure it wasn’t just… a trick of the light?”

Lorian shook his head vehemently, his eyes darting toward the mirror again. “It wasn’t the light, Caelus. I saw him. He was there, and he was… wrong. Like something out of a nightmare.”

Caelus studied him for a moment, his expression softening slightly as he recognized the genuine fear in Lorian’s eyes. He placed a reassuring hand on Lorian’s shoulder. “Alright. Let’s get back to the room. We’ll figure this out together.”

Lorian nodded, his legs still unsteady as he allowed Caelus to guide him out of the bathroom. He couldn’t help but glance back one last time, half-expecting to see that horrifying grin reappear in the glass. But the mirror reflected only emptiness, the flickering lantern light casting distorted shadows across the walls.

Lorian nodded shakily, his head bobbing in a silent agreement, though the fear etched in his wide, glassy eyes betrayed him. His breaths were shallow, and his hands trembled as he rubbed them against his thighs, desperate to shake the icy chill crawling up his spine.

Cheese wiggled up to Lorian’s side. Its normally bright glow dimmed to a deep, worried blue, and it pressed its soft, gelatinous body against him, offering what comfort it could. Lorian exhaled a shaky breath, his hand resting lightly atop Cheese’s small, quivering form.

Meanwhile, Caelus methodically searched the bathroom, his steps quiet but purposeful. He checked every corner, even tapping on the walls for hidden compartments or hollow spaces. His sword remained unsheathed, glinting faintly under the flickering lantern light. But no matter how thoroughly he inspected, there was no sign of the twisted figure Lorian had described. Just the ordinary creak of the old floorboards and the faint, unsettling drip of the faucet.

Still, the tension in the air was thick, clinging to the room like a damp fog.

Caelus returned, his sword still in hand, and his expression softened as he looked at Lorian. “There’s nothing there now,” he said quietly, though his furrowed brow revealed his own unease. He crouched slightly, bringing himself level with Lorian. “Let’s get you back to bed. You need to rest.”

Lorian nodded again, swallowing hard, and stood unsteadily. He shuffled toward the bed, clutching Cheese like a lifeline as he slid beneath the covers. His movements were slow, almost reluctant, as though he feared closing his eyes would summon the monstrous visage again. Cheese snuggled against his chest, its comforting warmth and soft glow providing some small solace.

Caelus settled at the edge of the bed, his sword resting across his lap, the blade within easy reach. His posture was alert, his shoulders squared, and his gaze sharp as it darted between the door, the window, and the dim corners of the room.

“I’ll keep watch,” Caelus said firmly, his voice steady. He gave Lorian a reassuring nod. “Nothing will get to us. Not tonight.”

Caelus remained awake through the night, his eyes never straying from the door or the shadows in the corners of the room. He remained vigilant, acutely aware of the silence that pressed in around him, the weight of it thick and suffocating. The darkness seemed to hide something—some creeping menace ready to lunge from the depths of the room or peer through the window’s thick curtains. His muscles were tense, but he couldn’t afford to relax, not with Lorian still vulnerable and lost in the trauma of his strange encounter.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the cracks in the curtains, Caelus felt a small sense of relief, the cold grip of fear loosening just a fraction. In his old life, staying up all night had always been met with a growing sense of dread, like the weight of the world would crash down the moment the morning light hit. But this time, after the tension of the night, he was thankful for the sun's rise. It felt like a promise that the worst was over, at least for now.

Beside Lorian, Cheese had settled into a quiet blue hue, its eyes squinting shut as if to mimic sleep. The little slime had stayed still and calm, no longer its usual playful self, perhaps sensing the unease in the room.

Caelus sighed softly, not wanting to disturb Lorian's fragile peace. He glanced over at the younger man, still curled tightly under the covers, his chest rising and falling steadily in sleep. Lorian had been through enough, and Caelus wasn’t about to force him out of his slumber after such a night.

With careful steps, Caelus rose from the bed, his joints stiff from hours of stillness. He cast one last look toward Lorian before slipping out of the room. His eyes flicked toward the bathroom door, a moment’s hesitation passing through him as he made sure the hallway was still quiet. Moving with practised caution, he stepped inside, relieved to find the space empty.

The morning rituals felt mundane compared to the haunting events of the previous night, but the small sense of normalcy they provided was a welcome relief. He washed his face with cold water, splashing away the lingering grogginess, but when he glanced up at the mirror, it reflected only his tired expression—nothing else out of the ordinary. There was peace, however fleeting.