A gust of wind tore through a trio of travelers. Lightning bolted down onto the mere cottages next to them.

The house trembled.

Struggling against the onslaught of the roaring wind, the two adults held their cloaks ahead.

Except for one.

One stood out. Something on the back of the tall, averagely-built man. A child clung to him, tugging at his shoulders. Probably no older than the age of ten?

The distant features were hard to make out due to the warm flame posed beside the window. But the lightning that struck ever so often helped to reveal tiny portions.

The boy was a concerning matter…

He wore baggy clothes and a hood that blew in the wind, revealing a frail frame. Another flash blurred through the skies giving enough clarity to see his face.

Her eyes widened with a stifled gasp. Fiery eyes, a pale complexion, white hair dripping black goo from orange tufts...

'Is it one? Maybe?'

“Mother! Look, isn’t that one of those-” she whispered excitedly before being cut off by a much older, calm tone.

“No darling, they wouldn’t bother with anyone like us. Put that out, and get away from the window…”

****************

Dye seeped from Aurin’s hair as his hood blew in the wind. The streets were painted with splinters, random patches of red, and riddled with the stench of rotting flesh. The buildings facing them; two rows down, were crushed flat by blistering white spears.

The cottages in the “village” were far more luxurious than the ones in the outskirts. Each one had smooth stone walls at their foundations. They even had second floors! Built with long wooden beams, and off-white walls with tiny bumps going along them.

They'd been looking for any shelter really. Unfortunately, most places were destroyed or their doors were barricaded. Which is where they were at... In front of a one-story hut with a poorly secured door… Garrick held Aurin on his back, looking through the bog of rain. And Elia? She was busy attempting to pry a wooden plank from a sealed doorway…

“Aye, look!” Garrick shouted, his voice blurring in the wind. He was glancing towards a structure to their left. It was another two-story cottage, with four cloudy windows overlooking the road. One of which had a faint orange glow emitting from it.

Elia shrugged while she tucked the dagger back into her belt, not even bothering to holster it. “Just a fire from a strike…” She screamed back.

Going backward, she suddenly burst forward to kick the waterlogged plank. Both her boot and leg shed blue particles of Ather as it landed. But... not even a crack formed on the wood...

Usually infused strikes could break something so simple. But whoever barricaded these places had put a great deal of effort into making sure no one got in...

Letting out a frustrated groan, Elia leaned on the building to gather her breath. As she did, the light inside the distant house dimmed into the night.

They didn't see it, but Aurin did.

He outstretched his finger to point at the same place while he looked down at Elia. "Look..." He said weakly, his voice barely making it through the noise.

She didn't hear it, but Garrick slightly turned his head to what Aurin said, and he yelled, "Aye, look!"

Stolen novel; please report.

Almost instantly, Elia jolted off the building before properly sheathing her dagger.

"Not a fire then..." She sighed.

While they moved closer to the house, Aurin’s ride had become rather rough. Which shouldn’t have bothered him, but the feeling of being watched never subsided. Before the storm reached them, he had told them, but they shrugged it off without explanation—something about the Ather density from all the townspeople.

Once they reached it, they paused at the front door, if you could call it that. It was more like a thick slab of wood, reinforced with metal plates going crossways, and brackets strapped to the corners. Closer to the top though, laid a handle strung by chains; a knocker.

Unsurprisingly Garrick slammed it as hard as he could. On the fifth hit, he stopped. A subtle sound of light footsteps crept under the door. Somehow without any sound, the door flew open. They were met with a dim, nearly pitch-black corridor. Inside looked to be an average middle-aged woman, and behind her, the silhouette of a child.

Garrick flinched his hand down to the hilt of his sword. Elia was about to move too, but the woman gasped, holding out a flat palm. She clicked her tongue, and ushered under a quiet breath, “Stop making so much noise! Please, just uh—just get in…”

Elia spared a glance toward Garrick, but they didn’t ask any questions. Before not they entered, and the door slightly squeaked behind them.

As soon as they entered, Aurin noticed the feeling of being stalked instantly dissipated. Instead, it was replaced with an overbearing pressure, and it was steadily increasing. Ever-so-slight, but it felt like someone was forcing a palm, or fist onto his chest and back.

There were no windows on the bottom floor, so there wasn’t any way someone could be watching them. There wasn’t even a bit of light...

The other thing he noticed was the nice hallway. The floor was freshly cleaned, and the walls were somehow painted bone-white. Warm, dry, quiet, and dark. Everything Aurin had wished for since they traveled out from the mudflats.

While he took in the interior, the woman snuck over to the staircase at the far end of the hallway. She lifted a pair of drapes piled on the floor, and raised them high, knitting them to crude knives stuck into the ceiling. Aurin glanced over Garrick’s shoulder, and there were only two doorways other than the entrance. One on the far right, and one on the close left.

Garrick’s back jittered, and as it did, he slowly lowered Aurin to the ground. Aurin stumbled for a moment trying to adjust. His legs still felt weak, and wobbly, but he could stand again! Well sort of, the wall kept him propped up.

The other child stood close to the woman, nearly hugging her leg while she finished laying the covers.

She didn’t say anything but instead, she walked through the doorway on the right. Both Garrick and Elia didn’t say or move at all either. Not before long, the woman came back out with a lit candle on a bronze holder. Even though it was a tiny little thing, through the darkness, it was like a beacon making everything seem a little bit brighter.

While Garrick and Elia were focused on that, Aurin noticed the kid had secretly moved behind them, laying another cover around the door. Then she packed the space at the bottom with an old dirty towel.

He observed closely before the woman whispered to Garrick and Elia, “Come, I suppose you two just arrived, I suppose I’ll explain…”

Aurin limped across the wall following Garrick and Elia, but the woman held her hand out and said, “Best not for little ones to hear what soon has to be said.”

They both went first through the left doorway without hesitation, but the woman paused for a moment. She looked back over to Aurin and the other kid, pointed towards them, and said, “But don’t go upstairs, and no more lights…”

Gracefully moving through the doorway, she slid shut a thin shaky panel behind her.

‘No lights?’ he pondered.

Stood there in the dark bland halls, he rubbed his eye, and let out a long sigh.

‘Finally…’

Right as he was about to lay back on the floor, he felt a faint tap on his right shoulder. A light young voice whispered eagerly, “Hey, what’s it like being in one of those big houses?”

A subtle chill rippled down his spine, and he flipped around as soon as it happened. So much so, that he nearly tripped!

‘Xyph!’

“What?” he said, his throat felt rough, and it stung to even say that…

“Y’know, your home? You’re from a rich home aren’t you?” while saying this, she laid down flat on the floor with her palm beneath her chin.

Aurin, in turn, shook his head and blinked in confusion, he didn’t even know if she could see that. So he said in an awkward questioning tone, “No?”

“So you’re not an aristocrat?” she tilted her head.

‘Again?’

“Aristocrat?” he murmured.

“Mhm. Wait—wha-”

“Everyone knows who they are. How do you not? They all have these weird kids with fancy hair and eyes, just like you.” she sighed. “Way to give up my hopes, huh.”

‘What? I’ve never even met her before, how can I give her hopes up?’

Deadpan, staring down at her; he was about to speak but instead clenched his throat. ‘Is it bad to ask for something to drink?’

He didn’t have to say anything though. She nodded and said, “Water?”

She shuffled softly to the back to where the right doorway was, and he thought, ‘Can she hear my thoughts?’

Soon after that, she came back out with an old clay cup held between her hands. Holding it out hesitantly, she whispered, “Drink it slowly, or you’ll be puking on our floor…”

End of Chapter 3