The room was small, a little cramped, but warm. After the kind of day we’d had, that was perfectly fine. We had four beds—one for each of us—but I already knew Edric was going to snore loud enough to make it feel like we were all sharing one.

The innkeeper had sent up food—not the worst meal I’d ever had, but definitely better than father’s food. Some kind of stew, bread, and a chuck of meat that I was better off not questioning. I’d eaten worse on the road these past few months.

I leaned back against the wall, picking at my bread while the others settled in. Sacer was on his bed, legs crossed, flipping through the journal again. Edric, as anyone would have guessed, was tearing through his food like he hadn’t eaten in days. Damian sat on the farthest bed, quiet as ever, eating slow, deliberate bites.

The silence stretched on until Edric finally broke it. “So, Luca,” he said, smirking at me between bites. “When you cutting your hair? Or are you just committing to the long-haired look?”

I groaned. “I can’t- not you too.”

Sacer hummed without looking up, turning a page in the journal. “I told you, Edric has a type.”

“Anything that moves?”

Edric grinned, tossing a bread crumb at me. “I’m just saying, I think it suits you. You could keep it long, maybe braid it—”

“I will set you on fire.”

Sacer rolled his eyes. “Can we go one night without Edric flirting with someone—”

“No.” Edric said immediately.

I sighed, shaking my head. “This is why no one takes you seriously.”

“Hey, I take me seriously.”

Sacer actually laughed at that—really laughed, not the dry, flat sound he usually made. Even Damian looked mildly amused, though… he didn’t say anything.

The banter carried us through dinner. Eventually, Edric flopped onto his back with a dramatic groan. “Alright. I’m done. Wake me up when the world stops being terrible.”

I nudged his mattress with my foot. “So never?”

“Exactly.”

Sacer closed his journal and set it aside. “We should actually get some sleep. We’ll figure out where to go next in the morning.”

No arguments there. One by one, we settled in, the room dimming into quiet. The distant noise from the tavern below faded into nothingness as I drifted off.

I woke up suddenly.

Not to noise, not to movement, but to something else. A feeling.

I blinked in the darkness, my brain still foggy with sleep, and turned my head—

Damian was standing beside Sacer’s bed.

Just standing there.

Watching him.

The room was still, the only light coming from the moon outside through the window, castling long shadows across the floor. Damian’s face was unreadable.

I sat up slowly, trying carefully not to startle him. “Damian?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t startle like someone who was just caught doing something they shouldn’t have. Instead he just turned his head to me, our red eyes meeting.

“...What are you doing?” I asked, keeping my tone light. Like I wasn’t completely weirded out.

He was quiet for what felt like forever, then he said, “Making sure he’s okay.”

“He’s… he’s fine. We all are. Get some sleep.”

Damian didn’t move. The way he was looking at me—it wasn’t threatening, but, it wasn’t normal either.

After another long pause, he gave a small nod and climbed back into his bed, pulled the blanket up, and shut his eyes like nothing had happened.

I stayed awake for a while, staring up at the ceiling. Eventually I forced myself to sleep again.

—

When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the silence. No bickering, no Edric cracking a joke, no Sacer sighing in exasperation. I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Their beds were empty, blankets crumpled on the floor. I hadn’t heard them leave. Maybe I was more tired than I thought.

For a couple minutes, I just sat there, letting myself appreciate the quiet. It was sorta nice, I guess, but also a bit off. But I wasn’t going to just sit here all morning.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed and stood, stretching out the stiffness from days of travel. Then, I got dressed—the same as always: matte black armor, its surface dull and worn from battles against bandits. A brown tunic underneath, comfortable but practical. Black pants tucked into my well-worn brown boots. And finally, brown gloves. I flexed my fingers against the worn leather.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Last, I pulled my cloak over my shoulders and tugged the hood up. With one last glance at the empty room, I stepped outside into the morning light.

The town was bursting at the seams with life. Merchants set up their stalls and people bustled past, already caught up in their routines.

I moved through the crown, scanning for any sign of my companions. It wasn’t surprising that they left early—Sacer was, quite frankly, a nerd and liked exploring new places. And Edric… Well, he was probably off doing whatever it is that Edric’s do.

“Mornin’, trav’ler,” an older man grunted, hauling a heavy wooden crate onto a cart.

“Good morning.”

He moved to grab another box, but his back stiffened, and he winced. Without thinking, I stepped forward, grabbing onto it. “Let me help.”

He blinked at me, startled, but stepped aside as I lifted the next crate, setting it down onto his cart. It wasn’t heavy in the slightest, but I could see why he was struggling—his hands with rough with age and calluses.

“‘Preciate it,” he said, rolling his shoulders with a wince. “Damn back ain’t wha it used to be.”

I placed another crate down for him. “You selling something?”

“Apples,” he said, lifting a lid on one of the crates. “Best ‘round.”

I picked one up, rolling it between my palms. “You ever met a farmer who didn’t think their apples are the best?”

He let out a wheezy chuckle. “Awrigh’, fair point.”

I dig a few coins from my pocket and hand them over. “I’ll take one.”

He gave me a toothy grin and closed my fingers on the coins. “Consider it thanks for tha ‘elp.”

I didn’t argue, just nodded and took a bite as I walked. Wow—he might actually be right. It was probably the most crisp apple I’d ever tasted.

Further down the road, a group of kids ran past, nearly colliding with my legs. One of them stopped short, staring up at me.

“Whoa.” The boy squinted. “You’re scary looking.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe you’re just judging,”

The other kids giggled, and the boy frowned. “Nuh-uh! Who wears all black?!”

I crouched, a slight smirk forming. “People who know it looks cool.”

Before they could say more, a woman called out, “Get over here before you cause trouble!”

The kids groaned but scampered off, waving behind them. “Bye, weird guy!”

I sighed. “Weird guy?”

A merchant woman nearby smiled as she arranged flowers in baskets. “Not many travelers take the time to talk to the little ones.”

I shrugged. “Don’t see the harm.”

“Good heart,” she mused. I wasn’t sure about that, but I just nodded before continuing on.

I found them near a small bookstore wedged between a tailor’s stall and a street vendor selling roasted chestnuts. It shouldn’t be hard to guess where Sacer would be—he stood in front of a wooden display, holding two books, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Edric, predictably, was making it worse. “Just pick one already,” he groaned, leaning lazily against the bookshelf. “Or, just hear me out, you get both and spare us the agony.”

Sacer didn’t spare him any mind.

“What are they about?” I asked, coming up beside them.

Sacer sighed like I’d just made his decision harder. “One’s a historical account of early magic usage,” he muttered, flipping through the thicker book. “The other is a collection of war tactics from Camelot’s late imperial era—which is a rare find in Valtara.”

Edric made a face. “Oh, so they’re both boring.”

Sacer shot him a glare. “Not all of us choose books based on how ridiculous the title is.”

“How dare you. Ezer’s Lustful Adventures is a work of art.

I snorted. “You’ve got problems.”

Before Edric had a chance to defend his taste in literature, something pricked at the back of my neck. As if Damon was saying pay attention. I scanned the street until my eyes landed on Damian.

He stood off to the side near a vendor selling old trinkets and antiques. At first, he looked normal—quiet, and hands stuffed in his pockets. But then I saw the way his shoulders had gone rigid.

Then I saw why.

The same kids from before surrounded him, pointing at his face with open curiosity.

“Your eyes are weird,” one of them said bluntly.

Another boy squinted at him. “Are you sick or something?”

A girl tilted her head. “They kinda look like fire. Are you a magician?”

Damian didn’t answer. He barely moved, but his silence was loud.

Merchants and villagers had started to turn their heads, their conversations trailing off. The air shifted, thickening with something cold. I recognized that look—the unease, the hesitation, the fear.

It was the capital all over again.

“Hey,” one of the older kids said, stepping forward. “Are you stupid or something? We’re talking to you.”

Damian’s jaw clenched but he didn’t say anything.

The kid smirked like he’d won something. “What, are you too good to talk to us?”

Another snickered. “Maybe he doesn’t know how to talk.”

The girl giggled. “Maybe he’s a freak.”

I took a step forward, but before I could reach him, the older kid shoved Daian. He stumbled back, barely catching himself.

The kids laughed, encouraged by his silence.

“Freak,” one of them repeated, shoving him again.

Damian’s breath came fast, shallow and uneven. His fists trembled.

The third shove knocked him to the ground.

I moved to intervene-

-but then the ground trembled.

Damian’s small frame shook. His fingers twitched violently. His breathing turned ragged. Then, a low guttural growl rumbled from his chest.

The laughter stopped.

The kids stepped back, eyes wide.

Damian's body twisted. His limbs jerked unnaturally, like something was fighting to break free from his skin. Black veins spiderwebbed across his arms. His fingers curled, claws erupting from his hands, pieces of skin fluttering to the ground.

I barely heard the gasps and murmurs from the gathered villagers because all I could focus on was him. His small frame distorted, dark scales creeping up his arms, his neck, his face. His eyes burned brighter, shifting and slitting into something inhuman.

Self-realization hit like a club to the head.

The dragon—that intelligent dragon from the village.

It’s Damian.

I opened my mouth, but the words never made it out. Everything went black.