Silver Lantern

Darkness greeted me as my senses slowly returned. My limbs ached, my mind felt sluggish and the cold bite of air flowed down my back. The stone pressed against my back, rough, uneven and the scent of damp earth filled my nostrils.

I groaned forcing my eyes to open.

'Where am I?'

A towering gate loomed over before me, its iron bars twisting like skeletal fingers reaching skyward. Beyond those gates lay shadows and flickering lanterns that stretched into the distance. The Dark Hollow. 

The place that goddamn labyrinth had sent me.

 A presence loomed nearby.

I turned my head as I locked eyes with a person. A guard. 

Standing by the gates lay a man clad in dark, patched armor, a fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders. His helmet was worn and dented, with the visor open. Revealing eyes that seemed sharp and scrutinizing.

I pulled myself to my feet, wobbling slightly. I could feel the guard monitoring every inch of me. The lingering bloodstains on my tunic, the black blood that remained on me from my dire battle with the goddamn Titan.

'Is he just going to stare at me?'

For a moment, silence stretched between us.

Then the guard spoke. His voice was gruff, unreadable.

"..You look half-dead, stranger."

I exhaled, stabilizing myself. "Felt worse."

The guard didn't react. He simply studied him for a moment that felt like an eternity. 

"The Dark Hollows don't welcome the weak," the guard finally muttered. "And it certainly doesn't suffer the foolish."

He gestured toward the gates.

"If you want to step through, you best have a purpose."

I wiped a hand over my face. Purpose? I had none. This was for my survival. For there to be a tomorrow for me. No longer Forsaken. 

I tightened my grip on the sword and took that step.

The gates groaned open as they swallowed me whole into the Dark Hollows.

Before I could step through, the guard's hand shot out, grabbing my arm for a brief moment. He held up a pouch of coins.

"Consider this a compulsory fee for those who survive the labyrinth," the guard said. "Ten Hollow Marks. You've earned it by making it this far."

"Right, thank you." 

'I nearly pulled out Lucian for a second.'

As I stepped through, a whiff of scents overloaded my nose. The air carried the smell of damp stone, burning tallow, and even blood and decay. The streets were uneven, carved with cobblestone, twisting making it impossible to see ahead. The narrow buildings mostly devoid of light, allowed shadows to loom. 

The people of Dark Hollow were just as worn as their city. They moved like phantoms, with their ragged cloaks and their faces covered by a hood; if they even had one. Some walked with purpose, others walked with paranoia. Survival was the rule here, not kindness. Half-measures would just let me end up dead in this cruel world that contained the Dark Hollows.

Here, one did not ask too many questions.

***

I found myself in what would be called the heart of Dark Hollow- a marketplace beneath dark sheets so thick that only fragments of moonlight peeked their way inside. The air was choked with the smell of spices and the like. I noticed a butcher hacking away at the remains of what seemed to be a monster he didn't recognize. Some of the slabs twitched unnervingly as if refusing to die.

'That's disgusting. No way I'm eating that.'

I had to find a place to rest. Even for a minute. I had been fighting for my life without rest, so my energy was at an all-time low.

'The Silver Lantern'

'Hopefully, I can try and ask for a place to sleep. Anywhere will do really.'

I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the inn, its hinges groaning reminding me of a dying beast. As I stepped inside, it seemed that the outside had faded. Not comparing to the labyrinth. I felt a warmth that I didn't feel outside, but not by much. A low fire cracked by the hearth, casting shadows over the stone walls. The scent of old ale, damp wood, and something herbal filled the air.

Few people were here, sat in silence, hoods drawn low, sipping on drinks watching the door as if waiting for something to show up.

A woman stood behind the counter drying a wooden mug with a worn cloth, Dorothy. 

She was in her late twenties, her black hair streaked with some strands of silver, tied loosely at her back. Her eyes were fierce and unwavering as if she could see through lies in an instant. She glanced up at me as I entered, her gaze lingered on my bloodied tunic and the sword kept at my hip, before traveling to the long cloak that draped down to my shins. The cloak, with its hood, pulled low over my face, added to the aura of mystery around me.

"New, aren't you?" Dorothy said. "I'm Dorothy by the way."

She said setting the wooden mug on the table with a small thunk.

I hesitated before nodding.

"Kalen."

Dorothy sighed, crossing her arms "Another one then, how long were you in the labyrinth for?"

I furrowed my brow. "I...I don't know."

She snorted. "Typical."

Without another word, she bent down beneath the counter pulling out a small, jagged metal coin.

"This," she said before tossing it to me "is a Hollow Mark. Currency here in the Dark Hollow, You won't find gold or silver like in those fairy tails. Here, we trade in things that matter - food, survival, and weapons.

I caught the coin, feeling its jagged edges as if it had been a part of something larger.

After Dorothy handed me the Hollow Mark, she asked with a raised brow, "You got 10 of those, right? It's a reward for those who complete the trial. One can't survive without these babies. It's 2 for a bed for 3 days and meals included, of course." 

Staring at the pouch the guard had given me, I thought, 'So it's two for a bed and a meal. That leaves enough for me to sharpen Lucian. 

"Alright, deal," I said, accepting the offer. 

Dorothy gave a slight nod. "Oh, if you want to, I need some help around here," she said pointing toward the back storage room. "Of course, it's not for free. I'll pay you. You just need to help with serving customers, dealing with those who are too drunk, and helping with the heavy stuff. Simple right?"

"Alright," I responded, nodding as he stood up.

"Alright, perfect. Go up the stairs, Anne will guide you to your room," Dorothy said before returning to her work again. 

As I turned up the stairs, I saw the mug Dorothy was holding was floating above the counter, spinning slowly. A faint shimmer of a purple hue surrounded the cup as Dorothy paid no mind to it, focusing on wiping the counter.

I stiffened slightly but didn't comment.

Magic.

Of course, there was magic here. 

Before I could dwell on it, Dorothy shifted slightly, the firelit tavern glimmering on her exposed shoulder where her loose shirt dipped.

Runic characters, etched onto her skin like a scar, pulsing faintly with some inner light. I had seen some of those markings before— on the fallen soldiers in the labyrinth. [Skara, an adventurer, executed by the Tyrant.] It was like some mark of their past lives. Did everyone have this or just those who have mana?

She noticed me, raising a brow.

I turned away, shaking my head. Not my business.

Not for now at least.