III. Fire

The conversation between Senna and Darian meandered for a few more minutes, touching on light topics—Northgate's strange mix of progress and stagnation, the bustling market streets, and the oddities Darian had encountered in his travels as a Seeker. The man spoke with an easy charm, his words flowing effortlessly as he recounted humorous anecdotes and observations.

Senna listened more than he spoke, content to let Darian fill the silence. The water had done its job; his body felt lighter, freer, and though his mind still held its share of tension, the warmth of the bath offered some reprieve.

Eventually, the two rose from the pool, the steam swirling around them as they reached for their towels. Senna wrapped the coarse fabric around himself and made his way to the changing area, careful to avoid the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

As they left the bathhouse, Darian glanced over at Senna, his expression shifting to one of amusement. "You know, you're massive," he said with a chuckle. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone your size. Are all Moors like you?"

Senna paused for a moment, surprised by the question. Then, for the first time in what felt like days, he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that caught even him off guard. "No, I don't think so," he replied, shaking his head. "My father and mother were both of average height. I'm… the exception, I guess."

Darian raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Really? So, no towering uncles or aunts? No giants in the family tree?"

Senna shook his head again, a faint smile lingering on his lips. "Not that I know of. My father and mother both worked in the fields. They were strong, sure, but no taller than anyone else where I'm from"

Darian hummed thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on Senna for a moment longer. "Well, whatever the reason, it suits you. You'd make quite the impression walking into a room."

Senna shook his head, the faint smile fading as his thoughts shifted inward. He didn't reply, and Darian seemed to sense the change, letting the conversation drift into silence as they stepped out into the bustling streets.

The morning sun was bright, the heat pressing down despite the lingering chill in the air. Senna adjusted his hood and kept his head low, his senses on alert as the city came alive around them.

Darian himself wore the Seeker uniform. The black and yellow robes, tailored to fit his lean, athletic frame, lent him an air of regal authority. The golden sun emblem stitched across his chest shimmered faintly with every movement, a constant reminder of the Church of Light's influence.

Darian's sharp eyes flicked to Senna, his easygoing expression briefly giving way to something more thoughtful. The crowds parted around them, pedestrians hustling to their destinations, but Darian seemed unbothered by the chaos.

"You're from the countryside, aren't you?" Darian asked suddenly, his tone casual but carrying an undercurrent of curiosity.

Senna tensed slightly but kept his face neutral, adjusting the blanket that shielded him from the sunlight. "What makes you say that?"

Darian smirked faintly, his dark eyes studying Senna with quiet observation. "It's the way you talk—or don't talk, more like…is what I would like to say to look smart, but you said your parents worked in the fields and the clothes you're wearing are all tattered and dirty."

Senna didn't answer immediately, his gaze drifting to the cobblestones beneath his feet. He wanted to smack himself for not being careful with his words and revealing too much information. 

"Not a bad guess," Senna said finally, his tone even.

Darian's smirk widened, though his voice softened. "So, you're one of the refugees, then?" He gestured vaguely toward Senna's blanket and the way he carried himself. "The fires—those are why you're here."

Senna stopped walking, his broad shoulders stiffening as he turned to face Darian. For a moment, neither man spoke, the bustling city fading into the background.

"And if I am?" Senna asked, his voice low but steady.

Darian raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Relax," he said. "We are only here to help stop these fires. Unless you are the arsonist, you do not have to worry. However, I will need you to come with me to the Seeker camp. Any witnesses are valuable."

Senna's first instinct was to refuse. His jaw tightened as he considered the risks. The Seeker camp would be crawling with members of the Church of Light, people trained to investigate, to uncover secrets. It was the last place he wanted to be.

However, he would only draw more suspicion if he refused. They were only questioning civilians; there was no need to be afraid. 

After a long moment, Senna nodded slowly. "Alright," he said, keeping his voice calm. "I'll come. But I don't know how much help I'll be—I didn't see much before the fires spread."

Darian smiled faintly, a hint of relief crossing his face. "That's fine. Even the smallest details can make a difference. Let's go."

Senna followed Darian through the streets of Northgate, the two of them moving past throngs of bustling civilians. The crowds thinned as they approached the outskirts of the city, where rows of tents and hastily assembled wooden structures marked the Seeker camp. Smoke curled lazily from small cooking fires, and the air buzzed with quiet activity—Seekers moving between tents, scribes taking notes, and refugees sitting in clusters, waiting to be questioned.

The camp was organized chaos, a stark contrast to the rigid hierarchy Senna had always imagined the Church of Light maintained. Darian led him toward one of the larger tents near the center of the camp, nodding in greeting to a few of his colleagues as they passed.

Inside, the tent was sparse but functional. A wooden table stood in the center, piled with maps, papers, and charred fragments of wood that looked like they had been retrieved from burned-out buildings. Two other Seekers, both dressed in the same black and yellow robes as Darian, stood by the table, deep in discussion.

"This is Senna," Darian said as they entered, gesturing toward him. "He's from one of the villages hit by the fires. I thought he might have something to add."

One of the Seekers, an older woman with sharp eyes and graying hair, turned to study Senna. Her gaze was piercing, but not unkind. "Thank you for coming," she said. "Please, take a seat."

Senna nodded, lowering himself into the chair they offered. The wood creaked under his weight, but it held.

The questions began, simple at first—where he was from, what he remembered about the fires, how he had escaped. 

"It happened a few days ago, me and the other slaves. Ah, I used to work as a slave for Master Tabor…"

The words hung in the air for a moment, and the Seekers exchanged quick, subtle glances. Their faces betrayed little-pity.

The older Seeker leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the table. "Go on," she said, her tone measured.

Senna nodded, continuing carefully. "The sun had just gone down,it was the night of the broken moon. My master was superstitious, he believed the broken moon brought about devils so he made all of us get off work early and retreat to our quarters."

The older Seeker nodded, her expression unreadable.

"At first, I thought it was just another one of his ridiculous fears," Senna continued, his gaze distant. "But maybe he was right to be afraid. Because that night... something happened."

He hesitated, making sure to choose his word very carefully for the next parts of the story.

"I woke up to the smell of burning wood and sulfur," he said, his voice rough. "It was thick, choking. At first, I thought I was dreaming. But then I heard the screams." He glanced up, meeting the older Seeker's gaze briefly. "The other slaves were panicking, trying to leave the quarters. But it was all covered in fire—everything was burning. The walls, the floors, even the air felt like it was burning."

The younger Seeker scribbled furiously, the sound of his quill the only noise in the room.

"I was in the top bunk," Senna continued, his voice growing hoarser. "I tried to climb down, to escape, but... I didn't make it." His hand twitched slightly, his body tense. "A piece of burning plywood fell from the ceiling and hit me. I went down hard, and before I could move... everything went black."

The older Seeker's expression softened slightly, though her eyes remained sharp. "You thought you died," she said, not as a question but a statement.

Senna nodded, his jaw tight. "I should have died," he said. "But... a few hours later, I woke up."

The room seemed to grow quieter, the air heavier, as Senna's words sank in.

"It was midnight," he said. "The air was cold, colder than it had any right to be after a fire like that. When I came to, everything around me was... gone. Burned to a crisp. The quarters, the fields, the house—all of it reduced to ash. And the others..." His voice faltered for a moment. "They didn't make it. I saw their bodies. Burned. Twisted. I was the only one left."

The older Seeker leaned back slightly, her expression grave. "And the fire? Was it still burning?"

"No," Senna said, shaking his head. "It was gone. It was like it had never been there, except for the ash and the bodies. Everything was... silent."

The younger Seeker paused in his writing, glancing at Senna with wide eyes.

"The moon was still in the sky," Senna continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The broken moon. It hung there, shattered and crimson, casting everything in this... deathly scarlet glow. The whole place looked like something out of a nightmare. And I just stood there, staring at it. I didn't know why I was alive or how I'd survived when everyone else hadn't."

He stopped, his hands tightening into fists on the table. "I still don't."

In truth, that night when he woke up he had been changed into a monster, but he opted to omit that.

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Senna's story pressing down on everyone present. The older Seeker finally spoke, her tone measured but laced with curiosity.

"Did you feel anything strange when you woke up? Anything... unusual about yourself or the area around you?"

Senna's heart skipped a beat, but his expression didn't waver. "No," he said firmly. "Just cold and alone. That's all."

The older Seeker studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you, Senna," she said, her voice quiet but sincere. "You've given us much to think about."

Darian, who had remained silent during the recounting, placed a hand on Senna's shoulder as they exited the tent. "That couldn't have been easy to share," he said softly. "You've been through hell."

Senna gave a slight nod, his face unreadable. Inside, his thoughts churned. He had told them enough to satisfy their questions, but he had kept the most dangerous truths hidden.

the older Seeker turned to the younger scribe, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly in an unspoken question. The younger man, still holding his quill mid-air, met her gaze and gave a small, confident nod.

"He's telling the truth," the scribe said plainly, his voice steady.

Senna's brow furrowed, the statement catching him off guard. He turned to the scribe, his voice low and cautious. "How would you know that?"

The younger man glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "It's part of what we do," he said simply, as if that explained everything. "A Seeker's tools aren't just guns and questions. We have ways of knowing."

Before Senna could press further, Darian stepped in, his hand lightly gripping Senna's shoulder. "That's enough for now," he said smoothly, his tone warm but firm. "No need to get into the finer points. Let's not keep you here any longer than necessary."

The older Seeker gave Senna a polite nod, her expression still thoughtful. "Thank you again for your cooperation," she said. "Your account may be more valuable than you realize."

Senna inclined his head but said nothing, his mind racing with questions as Darian led him out of the tent and into the bustling camp.

"Don't mind them," Darian said casually as they wove through the crowds. "Seekers have their little mysteries. We like to keep things vague—it's part of the charm." He shot Senna a grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Senna wasn't convinced, but he let it go, knowing he wouldn't get any answers by pushing. Instead, he focused on blending into the camp, his hood low, his steps steady.

As they reached the edge of the tents, Darian released his shoulder, his demeanor relaxing. "Well, Senna," he said, "you've done your part. Hopefully, the Church can use what you've told us to make some progress."

As they walked away from the Seeker camp, Darian seemed to relax, his easy demeanor returning. But the conversation turned toward something else entirely as he glanced sideways at Senna, his expression more serious.

"You know," Darian said, his voice thoughtful, "slavery should have been abolished throughout Tarsyn long ago, like it was in the South, near the capital. It's a barbaric practice, one that drags the entire country backward. It's a stain on the land, and I can't imagine how anyone still allows it to happen."

Senna felt the weight of Darian's words settle on him, but he shrugged his shoulders in response. "I don't know. My parents were slaves before me. I was born into it." His voice was matter-of-fact, though there was a trace of something deeper beneath the surface.

Darian looked at him curiously, his brow furrowing. "So, what—you don't think it's wrong? Just part of life for you?" His tone was edged with disbelief, though not unkind.

Senna didn't flinch. "It wasn't always great," he said, his voice steady. "But Master Tabor... he wasn't a cruel man. He never whipped us or yelled at us like some masters do. We got breaks for food and rest, and he didn't treat us like animals. For what it was, he was... decent."

Darian stared at him for a moment, clearly taken aback by Senna's calmness. "Decent?" he repeated. "That's how you describe a man who owns other people?"

Senna paused, his gaze narrowing slightly. "He didn't treat us like animals," he said again, more firmly this time. "That's all I'm saying."

Darian's expression shifted, and he pressed on. "But... don't you feel anything? Shouldn't you be upset? He passed away, and he seemed like a good man."

Senna's steps slowed, his face hardening slightly as the question hit deeper than Darian probably intended. "No," Senna replied bluntly, his voice unwavering. "No man can be good, owning another human being. Not truly. I don't care how nice he was, or how fair he seemed—he still owned people. That's the problem. I don't have sympathy for scum like slavemasters. Not even a little."

Darian opened his mouth as if to protest, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. He blinked, visibly taken aback by Senna's stark response. After a few seconds, he closed his mouth, clearly uncertain of how to proceed.

Senna didn't offer any more explanation, the weight of his words hanging between them. There was no need to justify his feelings. Slavery, no matter the form it took, was wrong. And Senna had lived through enough to understand that better than most.

As they continued walking through the busy streets, Darian broke the silence, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "So, what's next for you, Senna?" he asked. "Do you have any plans for the future?"

Senna gave a small shrug, his eyes fixed ahead, his steps steady but unhurried. "I'll let life take me where it will," he said, his tone calm, almost indifferent. "I don't have much of a plan. Just... trying to figure things out as I go."

Darian considered his words for a moment, then looked over at Senna with a more focused expression. "Fair enough," he said. "But I was wondering... would you be willing to work with me?"

Senna turned his head slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Work with you?" he repeated. "Why?"

Darian gave a small, confident smile, as if he had been waiting for the question. "I've got a task," he explained. "I'm tasked with traveling around the countryside and investigating the places hit by the fires. The Church of Light wants to piece together exactly what happened and why. But the thing is…" He paused for a moment, his gaze sharpening. "I'll need protection. There are rowdy locals and bandits on the roads. I can't exactly go unprotected, not with all the unrest."

Senna felt his muscles tense instinctively, but he kept his face neutral. "You want me to be your bodyguard?" he asked, his voice low.

Darian nodded, his expression earnest. "Yes. I've never met someone as massive as you, Senna. I'm sure you're capable of handling any threats along the way. And with everything going on with the fires, I'll need someone who can stand their ground. I'm not asking for free help—there's coin in it for you, and I'm sure there's much you could learn along the way."

Senna considered the offer, his thoughts moving quickly. Traveling with Darian would give him access to more information, possibly answers about the fires and the strange events he had been experiencing. It was a tempting offer. But then there was the matter of his freedom, the instinct to keep moving without being tied down to any one person or task.

"Why me?" Senna asked, his voice skeptical. "I'm not exactly the type of person you'd want on a job like that."

Darian's smile didn't falter. "You're exactly the type, Senna. You're strong, capable, and clearly have a good head on your shoulders. And, frankly, I can't think of anyone better to keep the bandits at bay." His tone was light, but there was a hint of seriousness behind his words. "I'm not asking for a lifetime commitment. Just a bit of time, a few jobs, and then you can go on your way."

Senna remained silent for a few moments, weighing the offer. He wasn't someone who liked to rely on others—or be relied upon—but the practical side of him recognized the value of having a bodyguard while traveling through dangerous areas. The money was an added bonus, and working with Darian could provide some answers he hadn't considered.

"I'll think about it," Senna said finally, his voice firm but noncommittal. "But I'm not making any promises."

Darian nodded, his eyes gleaming with understanding. "Fair enough. But if you change your mind, let me know. I'll be in town for a few more days, getting things set up for the journey."

Senna gave a curt nod, his mind already shifting back to the quiet road ahead. As much as he tried to avoid attachments, Darian's offer was tempting, and the possibilities it presented were hard to ignore.

"Alright," Senna said, turning toward a quieter path. "I'll see."

Darian clapped him on the shoulder, a light, friendly gesture. "I'll hold you to that," he said with a grin. "Take care of yourself, Senna."

As Darian walked away, Senna couldn't shake the feeling that this meeting was more than just an offer of employment. It was an opportunity, one that could lead to answers, or more questions.