Chapter 4: Evening

As darkness stretched across my room I began to familiarize myself with my surroundings. Table in the center, bed to the left, fireplace and vanity to the right. I was quite surprised how spacious the room was and the amenities that came with it. It wasn't soon after the daylight began to fall when I realized that modern electricity wasn't a thing in Intercaeleus. Thankfully, our family camping trips weren't entirely a waste and my fire making capabilities weren't as rusty as I had remembered. I let out a yawn as I sit on the sofa in front of the fire place. Cynthia sits beside me, here irises look as though they are engulfed in flames as she stares into the firepit. The quiet crackling and sizzling fills the room with a smokey aroma. I get flashbacks of cooking hot dogs over a bonfire, my stomach rumbles.

"How many have you seen disappear?" I sigh, breaking the silence.

"I have heard of many, though I'm not sure if they're simply tall tales due to how long ago they were. Besides the late hero."

"No one has ever actually gotten close to killing the demon king before so we don't really know if it's impossible. Just incredibly risky." I add.

"You're right, It can't be claimed as impossible if no one's ever done it or come close to doing so." She nods, pushing her hair behind her ears which now appear to me to be pointed. She seems to take notice of my staring and turns away, red in the face.

"You aren't human?" my eyes widen as I lean towards her to clarify if my eyes are seeing correctly.

"N-No, Master Darwin I'm a high elf." She whimpers shyly.

"Have you attended to any heroes before me?"

Cynthia shakes her head, embarrassed.

"Each hero is only assigned one attendant, we elves are also semi immortal which leaves us as the perfect candidates to take care of you heroes throughout your time here in Intercaeleus."

"So, you wait by that spring for a century until someone arrives?"

"Oh, no... The hero usually arrives within the last ten years of the century." She giggles scooting closer to me. "Waiting a century would be so boring."

"But the other two heroes today, they didn't have an elf with them." I say, deep in thought.

"Uhm, well sometimes they pass away from physical injuries or get let go of by their hero for personal reasons." She glances over at me nervously. "One time I heard a story of a hero selling their attendant at the dark market as a slave and-" Cynthia stops herself mid sentence and shudders.

"Did they sell for a lot?" I joke. Cynthia shoots me a worrisome look.

"Please don't sell me Master Darwin..." She mopes, shrinking down. I laugh dryly and sit back against the sofa.

"Don't worry Cynthia, you wouldn't be worth that much anyway." I say sarcastically, closing my eyes.

"Master Darwin!" Cynthia whines, "Your jokes aren't funny."

"Who said I was joking." I mumble as I do everything in my power to hold in my laughter with my eyes still shut.

"You're despicable." She pouts, shifting herself to rest her chin on the other armrest like a pillow.

"This world seems just as fucked up as my own." I admit. "Don't worry Cynthie I'm not going to sell you."

I hear the sound of shuffling and a sigh. "Cynthie?" She murmurs under her breath. "I've never had a nickname before. It means a lot Master Darwin." She replies dotingly.

I want to respond but tiredness takes over me and I find myself lulled into a heavy slumber.

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I awaken back home. Marcia is in the kitchen and Emi is running around with a notepad in her hand. She begins listing the ingredients to make whatever Marcia is cooking. I can see her hands stirring a pot of something. It smells delicious, even just the scent of our house makes my knees want to crumble into the floor. Oh how I'd give anything to be back there with them. I try to walk towards them but my feet wont budge.

"Marcia! Emi!" I shout at the top of my lungs. Neither of them seem to notice. Emi suddenly stops listing the items and turns to Marcia with concern.

"When's daddy coming home?" She peeps, tapping Marcia's hip. Marcia's hand stops stirring.

"He's not coming back, Emi. He's gone."

"Gone? Gone where? Didn't he have an interview?"

Marcia turns to Emi, her eyes are blank and irritated as if she had been crying.

"He's dead, Emi. He had an accident and won't be back." Marcia explains, emotionlessly.

"I'm here Emi, Daddy's here. Don't worry Daddy's here-" I tears welling in my waterline as I continue to fight the unexplainable force chaining my body in place. My voice breaks as I shout along with the pain in my chest eating at my insides.

Emi's typical smile droops into a look of disbelief. Her hands begin to tremble. The notepad falls to the floor. Emi bursts into sobs, running past Marcia into the room over. Marcia watches her go, clutching the counter and sinking to her knees on the floor. I want to pick her up and hold her close but any effort to interact seems useless.

"Marcia!" I yell in fragments before the scene shifts before my eyes and dissipates into thin air.

•

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"Marcia-" I feel my weight return to my body, whipping myself upright, my hands feeling my surroundings. The couch, last night I fell asleep here. Where am I? This place called Intercaeleus I have little knowledge about. I lumber my heavy body up off the sofa, wiping my hands down my face, I can feel my stubble growing as it rubs against the soft skin of my palms. The pale morning light streaks through the window onto my face and illuminates the room in a gold tint. Over to my left, Cynthia is still asleep curled up against the other side of the couch. The fire from the previous night smolders its last bit of life into ashes. A searing ache pulses in my back. I really am getting old. Thinking back on it, that dream felt strikingly real. Though I'm not sure if even dreams work differently in this realm. I need to keep it together if I'm going to have any shot at getting back to my family.

I pace towards the vanity and find a cloak hanging on the wall beside it. I figure the morning has got to be chilly. Perhaps this is the perfect time to get away on my own and explore my new surroundings.