The morning light seeped through the thin curtains of Myuk’s room, casting pale rays across his face. He stirred from sleep, the weight of his dreams still clinging to him like a shroud. His body ached with exhaustion, not just from the previous day’s events but from the relentless turmoil in his mind. Myuk’s thoughts circled endlessly, wrestling with the conflict of whether to continue his journey alone or to accept Zyrith’s assistance.
Trust was a fragile thing—one that had shattered too many times in his life. Every betrayal, every bruise, every mocking word had taught him that relying on others was a risk he couldn’t afford to take. He had survived by building walls, by being neutral but people still hurt him anyway. But now, those walls were cracking, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to rebuild them.
Rising from the bed, Myuk strapped his sword to his side, the cold steel of the blade pressing reassuringly against his hip. He grabbed the coin pouch he had taken from the Crimson Claw party, feeling the weight of it in his hand. It was a small fortune—enough to buy better gear, perhaps even a map to navigate this unfamiliar land. But first, he needed food.
Descending the creaking wooden stairs to the inn’s main floor, Nyx entered the bustling common room. The air was thick with the scent of fresh bread and sizzling meat, the morning crowd already gathered at various tables. Nyx chose a secluded spot near the corner, away from the prying eyes that seemed to follow him everywhere. He could feel the stares, hear the murmurs of the townsfolk, their words slipping through the air like venom.
“That’s him… the one who—”
“I heard he was a monster…”
“Did you see what he did to those adventurers?”
The whispers grew louder in his mind, each one a reminder that he was different, that he didn’t belong. Nyx clenched his fists under the table, his knuckles white with tension. He had been called many things in his life—useless, a freak, a weirdo. Each label had been a chain, binding him to a life of pain and isolation. But he had broken free of those chains, hadn’t he? He would not let their words control him. Not anymore.
The innkeeper, a kindly woman with a warm smile, approached him. “What can I get you, lad?” she asked, her voice gentle, as if she sensed the storm brewing inside him.
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“Breakfast,” Nyx replied curtly, keeping his voice low. He didn’t want to engage with anyone more than necessary.
As he waited for his meal, Nyx tried to focus on the present, on the here and now. He shut his eyes, retreating into the silence of his own thoughts. The world around him faded, the whispers becoming a distant hum. He thought of his journey, of the path he had chosen. He had always walked alone—he knew no other way. But now, with Zyrith by his side, he felt the weight of that solitude pressing down on him. Could he really do this on his own? Did he even want to?
When the innkeeper returned, placing a plate of food before him, Nyx opened his eyes and began to eat slowly. The warmth of the meal grounded him, anchoring him in the present. He focused on each bite, letting the simple act of eating calm his racing thoughts.
He was halfway through his meal when he heard soft footsteps approaching. Glancing up, he saw Zyrith descending the stairs, her movements hesitant, as if she feared disturbing him. Nyx noticed the dark circles under her eyes, a mirror of his own restless night. She took a seat at the table beside his, her shoulders slumped in defeat, her violet eyes dull with fatigue.
Zyrith slumped forward, her head resting on the table as if the weight of the world was pressing down on her. Nyx could sense her distress, but he remained silent, focusing on his meal. He could feel her presence, a subtle reminder that he wasn’t as alone as he wanted to be. She had lost everything—her home, her people—and now, the one person she had hoped to rely on had pushed her away. And yet, she was still here, still trying.
After a long silence, Nyx finally spoke, his voice calm and even. “I need a guide,” he said, not looking up from his plate. “Someone who can show me around, help with deals and bargains as I go gear shopping.”
Zyrith’s ears perked up at his words, and she lifted her head slightly, surprise and hope flickering in her eyes. For a moment, she looked almost like a child who had been offered a gift they never expected. Nyx kept his expression neutral, but he couldn’t ignore the small twinge of satisfaction that came from seeing her reaction. Perhaps, just for a little while, he could allow someone to stand by his side.
Without another word, Zyrith moved from her table to his, her excitement visible despite her weariness. She sat across from him, her posture more upright, her eyes brighter than they had been moments before. Nyx allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. He wouldn’t admit it, but her eagerness brought a flicker of warmth to the cold resolve that had settled in his heart.
As they sat together in quiet companionship, Nyx knew that, for now, he would allow Zyrith to stay by his side. Perhaps, just for a little while longer, he could afford to let someone in. The walls he had built around himself were still there, but maybe—just maybe—they didn’t have to be as high.