> “Sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.” - Nord Morningstar

"What did I do?" Nord's voice trembled, feeling the tears of humiliation brimming at the edges of her eyes.

Sirona, stone-faced and stern, was unyielding. "Seriously? You have to ask?"

"I don't understand," Nord stammered.

"Inside that building, we have machinery that's powered by magic—light, water, gas—everything runs on it. I have two patients in there on life support, kept alive by iron lungs. Do you get what I'm saying?" Sirona's voice tightened, filled with a fierce urgency.

"I... I—"

"Stop," Sirona cut her off, rubbing her temples as if to stave off a headache. "You're so obviously out of your element it's painful. You march around in those clothes, ink all over your skin. You waltz into town, face off against the Sisterhood of Ravendrift, and suck away their magic. And then you think you can just come in here and mess with the Hallow? Are you mad?"

"I don't... I never said that," Nord was bewildered, lost in a labyrinth of misunderstandings.

"Look, if you need medical assistance, I can send someone. But I won't set foot in that house. You're crazier than Rosemary ever was, but at least she had the decency not to inflict herself on the whole town," Sirona hissed.

"Rosemary never left the manor?" Nord asked, a realization dawning on her, giving her a glimpse into the social chasm she had stepped into.

"Exactly. You're a parasite, feeding off our most vital resource. No one wants you here. And unless you get that, no one ever will. Now go. Send someone else to do your errands. I've got patients who need me." With that final statement, Sirona turned away, re-entering her community clinic, leaving Nord alone, wrestling with her thoughts on a lonely stretch of sidewalk.

At that moment, the walls of Nord's isolation closed in, the distance between her and the rest of the world stretching out like an endless chasm. It felt eerily familiar, a cold echo of her past. She wandered the streets, her gaze flitting over shop windows but never mustering the will to step inside. The weight of her defeat sank deeper into her with each step until it became too much to bear.

Unable to go on, she found refuge on a wooden bench tucked away between two buildings. With a heavy sigh, she folded her arms on her lap and buried her face in her hands, letting her tears fall freely. Each drop that hit the ground seemed to reverberate in her chest, a tiny drumbeat of surrender.

Just as she was about to succumb to complete despair, a shadow fell over her. Looking up, she saw Baal standing there, his face partially hidden by the wide brim of his peculiar hat.

"Bad day?" he asked, his voice tinged with a warmth that contradicted his gruff exterior.

Nord couldn't muster a reply; instead, she simply nodded and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

Without another word, Baal sat beside her. He leaned in slightly, his arm subtly resting around her shoulders. He didn't speak, but the scent of mint and damp earth that clung to him wafted into her senses. It was calming and grounding as if he carried a piece of the Earth with him wherever he went. He made her feel like she was back home.

"Are you... Are you following me?" she finally asked, looking up into his face, half-obscured as it was by that odd hat, but she could see his cheek still red.

Baal looked down and gently wiped away her remaining tears with his thumb. "In a small town like this, it feels like everyone is following everyone. You do stand out in a crowd," he said, pausing and clicking his tongue. "But yes, I was following you."

Nord sat up straighter, a small frown tugging at her lips. "You're a terrible liar."

Baal chuckled softly. "Demons don't lie."

Nord scoffed. "That can't be true."

"We can't lie," he clarified. "We can try, but it doesn't work that way."

Nord considered this for a moment, her eyes searching his. "So, everything you say is the truth?"

"I could just choose not to speak," he replied cryptically.

Nord chuckled. "Sometimes, silence says more than words ever could."

For a moment, they sat there, two souls bound by a moment of shared vulnerability. Then Baal spoke again.

"Why were you at the clinic? Are you sick?" he asked.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Nord shook her head, her tears now replaced by a newfound resolve. "No, I'm not sick. I want a chair. A special kind of chair."

"What did she tell you to make you cry?" he asked, steering the conversation back to her recent ordeal.

"Who?" she queried.

"That ugly sucked dry woman?"

"You mean Sirona?" She added a touch of irony as she corrected, "Doctor Sirona."

Baal chuckled, "I like the spirit."

"She basically said I'm a pariah. That I could steal their magic or something by standing there."

"Oh!" Baal suddenly sat up straighter, his hand moving to rub his forehead thoughtfully. "Well, she has a point."

The words stung, but Nord appreciated the honesty. She took a deep breath, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. If even a demon found reason in her banishment, then she really had to reevaluate her presence in this tight-knit community.

Tears continued to flow, each droplet a testament to Nord's inner tumult. Without a word, Baal's arms enveloped her in a comforting embrace, his body acting as a bulwark against the weight of this new world. "Come on, Nord, you're stronger than this. You've faced worse. You've got this. You know you do."

Breathing in the musk of his cardigan, Nord's muffled voice found its way out between sobs. "It's just... things don't change."

Baal's low voice reverberated through her as though his words were crafted just for her ears. "Well, it's their loss. They'll never find out how amazing you are."

Pulling her face slightly away, Nord met his gaze. A mixture of confusion and exasperation swam in her eyes. "What are you talking about? You don't even know me!"

A deep chuckle erupted from Baal's chest, filling the tense air with a hint of warmth. "I always forget this part."

"Forget what part?" She used the back of her hand to wipe away lingering tears. Her eyes focused intently on his.

His expression softened, and he looked away for a moment, almost as if gathering his thoughts.

"Would you like me to take you back home in the slowest way possible, that you'll think damn I could have gone faster on foot back and forward," he joked, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Tears continued to dampen her cheeks, but his words offered some form of comfort. She managed to give a wistful smile. "So what's this 'unique experience' you're offering? A snail-drawn carriage?"

He grinned back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "No snails, but something equally slow and agonizingly tedious. Actually, now I'm thinking snails would be faster."

Nord stifled her sniffling and raised an eyebrow. "Are you making fun of me or something?"

"No, I'm offering a unique experience that you'll hate with a passion. But you'll hate it thinking of me, so it's a win-win situation," Baal replied, his hands mimicking a scale, tipping this way and that as if weighing the pros and cons.

"Are you always this insufferably charming, or is it just for my benefit?" Nord asked, her eyes still a little misty but more focused now.

"Oh, I'm an acquired taste," Baal said, grinning broadly. "Some find me delightful; others, not so much."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You know, I still don't even know your name."

His smile faded for just a moment, a shadow crossing his face. After a pause, he finally said, "Baal."

"Baal? Like the Duke of Hell?"

He chuckled softly, "No dukedom here. Just Baal."

"Baal. Sounds good. It's kinda of a badass name," she admitted, her eyes scanning their surroundings. "So, where is this slowest transportation ever made?"

"Follow me. I must present you, Mulan!"

Nord squinted into the horizon, where the fading orange glow met the dusky lavender of twilight. The old mule pulling their cart seemed to be taking its sweet time, barely moving at all. "Is she even walking?"

"I'm afraid so," Baal replied. He lay sprawled across the back of the cart, his gaze fixed on the evening sky's intricate tapestry of hues.

"So, are you from here?" Nord probed, rearranging herself to mirror Baal's position and sharing the view of the encroaching night.

"You mean Ravendrift?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the sky.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"I was born in the Nethersphere," Baal said, his voice even and distant.

Nord frowned. "I didn't see that on the map. Is it like on another planet?"

"Nah, it's on the map; nobody bothers to draw it. To be fair, it's ugly. Better as just a name."

"I see," Nord mused. "Back home, everything is regulated. Names, places, things. Even the things we don't see have names and images associated with them."

Baal shifted his gaze towards her, absorbing the contrast she painted between her world and his. He didn't reply immediately, letting the pause hover between them.

"Why did you go to the clinic if you aren't sick?" he finally ventured, breaking the comfortable silence.

Nord chuckled. "No, I want a chair, I told you."

"I know, but what chair?" Baal seemed genuinely puzzled.

"More like a dentist's chair, one with arm supports, a rotating base, and a back that can recline flat like a table," she elaborated.

Baal's expression grew serious. It was as if he had to pick the next words carefully, measuring them for weight and implication. "Why would you want something like that?"

The cart creaked along, each rotation of its wheels matching Nord's mental gears as she organized her thoughts. "I'm going to open a tattoo shop. I need to figure out who this Merlin guy is to help me so I can draw lucky charms... and other things with utility. I mean, if I'm in a world with magic, I might as well take advantage of it," she concluded, her voice tinged with wistful excitement.

"How are you going to tattoo? I haven't seen any tattoo machines around here," Baal inquired, his curiosity edging into his voice.

"Oh! I brought my own," Nord interrupted him eagerly, her eyes lighting up.

Baal's eyes widened, a mix of awe and horror overtaking him. "You brought... your own? Do you mean a machine? The tattoo... thingy that makes tattoos, you brought it here? It came with you? It's with you?" His words stumbled over themselves as he struggled to digest the information.

"Actually, it's not really mine. It's a brand-new wireless machine. It's still intact, so I guess I've never used it before. My memory's been like a sieve these last few days; I can't even remember buying it," Nord explained, her gaze a little distant as if trying to navigate the foggy corners of her mind.

Baal seemed to snap back into the moment. "But it won't work. It needs electricity."

"I've got that figured out," she assured him.

"How?" Baal couldn't keep the scepticism from lacing his tone.

Nord turned her head to lock eyes with him, her expression shifting into the most cunning smile he'd ever seen. "Solar panel. I got this."

For a second, Baal just stared at her as if recalculating his entire understanding of the woman beside him. Then, a slow, appreciative smile crept across his face. "You really are full of surprises, aren't you?"

Nord just winked, her confidence unabated. "You have no idea."

"Oh, I might have..."