Ep. 67 Departure

The journey back to our newly acquired inn was quiet, each of us lost in our own thoughts. None of us had mentioned dinner, and I didn't bring it up. Some hungers went deeper than food could satisfy.

"I think I'll just turn in," Maya said as we reached the creaking wooden steps. Her voice was hollow, exhaustion evident in the slight slump of her shoulders.

Rowan nodded in silent agreement. "Same."

Our room was small but functional, with two beds pushed against the right hand wall and a single window overlooking the town's main road. We entered and began unpacking. I took off my new sword along with smith's sword first realizing I still haven't given it back to him I sighed a made a mental note to do it tomorrow, I set them within arm's reach of the bed. Next came my new chest plate, setting it down next to the swords.

Across the room, Maya methodically removed her newly purchased gear as well and setting them on the small bedside table. Rowan did the same on the opposite night stand.

With our equipment stowed and armor removed, the exhaustion hit all at once. Maya claimed the bed on the left without hesitation, collapsing onto the thin mattress. Rowan and I squeezed into the other bed.

"Try not to snore tonight," I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Me? You're the one who sounds like a dying bear," Rowan retorted.

Maya reached over and extinguished the last candle. "Goodnight. Both of you shut up and sleep."

The darkness settled around us. I listened to my companions' breathing, noting how Rowan tossed and turned before finding comfort. Maya was more subtle, but sleep didn't come easily for her either.

For me, sleep remained elusive. Each time I closed my eyes, fragments of memory flashed behind my eyelids. Eventually, though, exhaustion won out over anxiety, and darkness claimed me.

But darkness was never just darkness for me.

The dream began through a veil of shadow and mist. Armies stretched across endless plains, their banners unfamiliar yet somehow significant. The soldiers moved with mechanical precision, their armor black as midnight, faces hidden behind demonic masks.

Then they came—beings that appeared human but were not. They soared above the armies on wings of twisted shadow, feathers that seemed to absorb light. With each beat of their dark wings, the sky grew dimmer, as if they were extinguishing the stars themselves.

Cities fell before this advance—walls crumbling, towers collapsing, streets running red with blood. I watched entire civilizations erased in moments, reduced to ash and memory. And through it all, I felt nothing—no horror, no remorse, only a cold satisfaction.

Then, amid the destruction, a pinpoint of light appeared. It grew from a mere spark to a beacon, and finally to a pillar of radiance that tore through the heavens themselves.

The light spread across the land like liquid gold, washing over the darkness, cleansing it. Wherever it touched, life returned—flowers bloomed in scorched earth, trees straightened their broken trunks, and the very air seemed to sing with renewal.

And I—the one whose eyes I saw through—hated it.

Rage surged through me, primal and all-consuming. It clawed at my chest from the inside, burning my veins like molten metal. The light was wrong. The light was destroying everything that should be.

My fury built until it threatened to consume me entirely—

And then I woke.

The room was still dark. No cries had escaped me this time. My companions slept on, undisturbed. My hands throbbed with a dull pain, and when I raised them, the faint moonlight revealed tiny crescent wounds across both palms—places where my nails had dug deep enough to break skin during my dream-rage.

I stared at the blood, black in the darkness. These dreams weren't normal nightmares. They carried a weight, a reality that ordinary dreams lacked. I'd never seen armies like those before, never witnessed flying men with shadow wings. Yet the images felt like memories rather than imagination.

And the hatred I'd felt toward the light troubled me most of all. It wasn't rational—it was instinctual, visceral, as if the light itself was anathema to my very being.

Sleep was impossible now. I spent the remaining hours watching the slow progress of moonlight across the floorboards, trying to make sense of the visions.

Eventually, dawn crept through the window. Rowan stirred first, stretching his lanky frame.

"Morning already?" he grumbled. "Feels like I just closed my eyes."

Maya rose more gracefully, her keen eyes scanning the room before landing on me.

"You look like hell," she observed bluntly.

I forced a smile. "Thanks. You're radiant as ever."

She snorted, but her gaze lingered a moment too long. Maya missed nothing. But I had no intention of sharing my dreams with either of them. They carried enough burdens without adding my inexplicable visions.

"Hey, what do you say we go get some breakfast?" I suggested, deliberately changing the subject.

Rowan looked up with a genuine grin. "Yet another great idea from Kai. Let's do it."

Maya decided to let it go. "Yeah, I'm starving."

We made our way downstairs, taking seats at the bar and ordering the cheapest option—a thick stew of questionable contents. The first part of our meal passed in companionable silence.

But practicality couldn't be ignored forever. I set down my spoon and cleared my throat.

"With the money that Earlston let us keep, we have enough to leave right away if we stay frugal," I said. "I think we should spend today gathering supplies and saying our goodbyes. We should head for the next town first thing tomorrow."

Rowan nodded without hesitation. "Makes sense. We've pushed our welcome here to its limit anyway."

Maya's expression was more reluctant. Her eyes drifted toward the door, and I knew she was thinking of Lilia and the others—connections she'd begun to form that would now be severed like all the rest.

"I understand," she said simply, offering no argument.

We finished our meals in contemplative silence. As we stood to leave, I caught my reflection in a polished brass platter. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, and something haunted lingered in my gaze—something that hadn't been there before.

I looked away quickly. We had supplies to gather and a journey to prepare for. Whatever my dreams might mean, they would have to wait.

"Shopping district first?" Rowan suggested as we stepped into the morning sunlight.

I nodded, pushing thoughts of darkness and light and ancient hatred to the back of my mind.

"Let's go."