Nyx received her meal shortly after ordering, the warm scent of roasted meat and fresh bread making her stomach tighten with hunger. She ate slowly, letting the flavors settle, but her ears remained sharp, picking up the conversations around her.

“Another dungeon appeared near the capital—mid-tier, but worth the risk if you can claim it.”

“Tch, as if. The nobles already snatched the rights. You think they’ll let common hunters get a piece of that?”

“Draconia’s been buying up dungeons before we even hear about them. No wonder they’re the most powerful kingdom right now.”

Nyx kept her expression neutral, though her fingers tightened slightly around the edge of her plate. She wasn’t interested in kingdom politics—at least, not yet. Owning a dungeon sounded like more trouble than it was worth. Still, she tucked the information away.

As she finished her meal, brushing the crumbs from her fingers, Uriel’s voice murmured in her mind.

“Check your pocket, Nyx. I placed some coins in there.”

Her fingers brushed against the cool metal. Thanks, Uriel. She placed the coins on the counter and nodded in thanks to the elven woman behind it.

“I’m looking for a place to stay the night. Any recommendations?”

The woman smiled warmly. “There’s a good inn two buildings up—The Starlit Hearth. Clean, quiet, and safe.”

“Thank you.”

Stepping outside, Nyx was met with the crisp night air, thick with the scent of lantern oil and distant flowers. The streets of Alinthor still buzzed with activity—merchants packing away their wares, travelers chatting beneath glowing lanterns, elven children darting between stalls. Their laughter was soft, almost musical, blending with the distant hum of lutes being played by street performers.

She followed the woman’s directions, passing dimly lit stalls that displayed enchanted trinkets, delicate silver jewelry, and tiny vials of glowing blue liquid. A nearby vendor grilled skewered meat over an open flame, the scent rich with spices she didn’t recognize. The cobblestone beneath her feet was smooth—too smooth compared to the rough dirt roads of her old village.

For a moment, she thought about Till. He would have loved this place. He would have asked questions about the runes etched into the lanterns, about how elven steel compared to human craftsmanship.

Her chest tightened, but she pushed the thought away.

The Starlit Hearth stood as a cozy, two-story building with ivy creeping up its stone walls. A wooden sign swayed gently above the door, its elegant silver lettering glowing faintly in the moonlight.

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Inside, the warmth of a fire welcomed her. The inn smelled of lavender and aged wood, the soft crackle of flames the only sound breaking the quiet atmosphere. Unlike the tavern, which was lively and full of chatter, the Starlit Hearth was peaceful. A few guests sat in the far corner, engaged in quiet conversation over cups of warm cider.

The innkeeper, a middle-aged elf with sharp emerald eyes and long silver hair braided over one shoulder, glanced up as she approached the counter.

“Looking for a room?”

Nyx nodded. “Just for the night.”

The elf slid a brass key across the counter. “Second floor, third door on the left. Breakfast is at dawn.”

With a simple nod, she took the key and made her way upstairs.

The room was small but comfortable, with a neatly made bed, a simple wooden dresser, and a window that overlooked the quiet streets below. She removed her cloak and stretched, her muscles aching from the constant travel.

Uriel’s voice drifted through her mind.

“Draconia is making moves. You may want to keep an eye on that.”

Nyx stared at the ceiling. She had no plans for Draconia.

Not yet.

But the world around her was shifting.

And she needed to be ready.

Later That Night

Nyx sat in silence, arms wrapped around her knees as she leaned against the wall. The room was dark except for the soft glow of moonlight spilling through the window.

She couldn’t sleep.

Her thoughts were tangled, like a string of fate she couldn’t untie. Was Draconia really the best choice?

Her stomach twisted. She felt too drained to even think about it.

“I don’t think I want to go to Draconia,” she admitted to Uriel.

“Why not, Nyx?” Uriel’s voice was calm, steady.

She hesitated before whispering, “Because… I don’t think it’s for me. Everywhere I go, there’s nothing but destruction. I can never be happy. And I’m always going to be alone.”

“That’s not true, Nyx,” Uriel countered gently. “You were happy once. It’s just the circumstances that changed—not you. And you’re not alone. You have me. You have the Shadow Army.”

At those words, she felt a shift in the shadows around her, their silent presence curling protectively at her feet. They didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound, but she could feel them.

They were waiting. Watching.

A small chuckle escaped her, barely more than a breath.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“And besides,” Uriel continued, “didn’t you want to become a constellation? To help those who can’t help themselves?”

Her fingers tightened against the fabric of her cloak. That dream… It hadn’t faded.

“Yeah… you’re right.”

“I know.”

She exhaled slowly. “But what am I supposed to do now?”

“First, we find a guild,” Uriel suggested. “We need to earn some money. What we have won’t last forever.”

Nyx sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. “Then that’s what we’ll do tomorrow.”

The decision felt small, but at least it was a start.

As she closed her eyes, exhaustion finally pulling at her, a memory surfaced—one she hadn’t thought about in weeks.

She saw Till, sitting across from her at the old wooden table back in the village tavern, grinning as he held up a steaming loaf of bread.

“I swear, Nyx, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

She had rolled her eyes then, stealing a piece from his plate.

“You say that every time we eat, Till.”

“Because it’s true!” he laughed, leaning back in his chair.

The memory felt so real that she could almost hear the crackling of the tavern fire, smell the scent of warm soup and freshly baked bread.

But when she reached across the table—Till wasn’t there.

The tavern vanished, and she was back in her dimly lit inn room. Alone.

Nyx curled into herself, gripping the sheets tightly.

She hated this. The loneliness. The guilt.

“You’re thinking about them again, aren’t you?” Uriel’s voice was softer this time, almost hesitant.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered, turning on her side.

“You’ll have to, eventually.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep before the pain could swallow her whole.