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Nathaniel's POV
Tonight was silent. Too silent.
Not the kind of silence that soothes or rests, but the kind that stretches, heavy and unnatural—like the world itself was holding its breath. We'd been here four days now, in the middle of endless greenery and a winding road that disappeared into fog. The inn had always been quiet, sure, but tonight... it felt alive with something that whispered through the stillness.
The walls creaked even when there was no wind. The air carried a chill that didn't belong. It crawled across my skin and settled in my bones. Sleep wouldn't come, no matter how much I closed my eyes.
And honestly, it pissed me off.
First, because I needed my beauty sleep—yes, I admit it—and second, because without sleep, I get cranky, easily annoyed, and prone to homicide if someone tries talking to me before dawn.
I sat up in bed, taking a long breath. The wooden ceiling above seemed darker than usual. I closed my eyes, trying to drown out the silence, but somehow, it only got louder. My mind wandered. If anyone was unaffected, it would be Elisha—with his loud, pessimistic mouth that could probably outshout a god's thunder.
For a brief moment, I envied him.
I opened my eyes again, sighing. The shadows of the candle flickered and stretched across the floorboards, like they were breathing. Enough. I swung my legs off the bed, reached for my sword resting against the wall, and stepped into the corridor.
I didn't know where I was going at first—just that I couldn't stay still. My feet carried me down the dimly lit hallway. The silence followed, thick and watchful. When I reached the staircase, I paused, glancing upward. The four floors above had always been off-limits in a way no one mentioned, but somehow, tonight, that felt like an invitation.
So, I climbed.
Each step groaned under my weight, echoing far too loud. The light from the lower floors faded quickly, leaving only the faint glow of wall torches. They flickered, bending against some invisible breeze. The fourth floor greeted me with darkness—pitch-black, so deep it seemed to swallow light whole.
I froze. A sensible person would've turned around right there.
But sense was overrated.
I moved forward, my hand brushing the cold wall, until I found the next set of stairs leading upward. Just as I was about to climb, a faint glow appeared down the hallway—a single, silver light.
It wasn't a normal light. It shimmered, alive and fluid, not like fire but like moonlight condensed into form. It drew closer, illuminating the corridor in a cold gleam. My instincts screamed at me to go back downstairs.
Instead, my legs carried me upward.
The fifth floor greeted me with something stranger. It wasn't dark—but empty.
No rooms, no windows—just an endless hall of rough wooden planks nailed to the walls. Up close, I realized they weren't smooth. They were carved with strange markings—symbols that twisted and looped in ways that made my head ache to look at. It wasn't any human language. Not elven, not demonic. Something older.
I lifted one of the torches and walked slowly. Every few steps, the floorboards creaked like they were whispering secrets to one another. The marks continued everywhere, etched into every beam, every corner.
Then I reached the end of the hall—and realized the stairs leading to the sixth floor were the last ones. Beyond that, there were no more stairs, but there were two more floors.
Just the blank wall Staring at me.
"What the hell..." I muttered.
That was when I heard her.
A woman's voice, soft and clear, yet echoing like it came from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
"Even gods and demons need judgment," she said, her tone calm—neither warm nor cold. "So why should humans, whose greed feeds gods and devours demons alike, be spared?"
I froze, turning in slow motion toward the sound.
"Human needs are endless," the voice continued. "They crave wealth, health, companionship, children… or vengeance. They beg for justice, yet commit sins in its name. They desire endlessly—until desire consumes them."
Then came a quiet laugh. It was musical, haunting, and filled the entire floor.
"Tell me," she said. "What is it that you want?"
The light that had followed me earlier began to spread, flooding the hall with that silvery, unreal glow. I stepped back, shielding my eyes.
"You don't seem to want a thing," she whispered now, her voice close, like she was standing right beside me. "Then why are you here? One seeks judgment for his past. One seeks peace. Another longs for happiness. One wishes to relive a better past again and again. But you—Black Raider—what do you seek?"
My grip tightened around my sword. Those descriptions... they were too specific.
She was talking about them.
My voice was calm when I answered, though my heart wasn't. "Who are you?"
The light pulsed—then spread further, until it consumed the entire hallway.
Suddenly, I wasn't in a hallway anymore.
It was a vast chamber now, empty and echoing, the floor smooth as glass. My torch flickered and went out. Only that silvery glow remained, filling everything, until it almost felt like I was floating in it.
The voice said again, quieter now, "No. The question is not who I am. It's why you're here. What this place truly is. What's happening. And most importantly…"
A pause. A sharp, eerie pause that felt like the air was being sucked out of the world.
"Who made the new map?"
Then laughter—piercing, echoing, spiraling upward like it came from a thousand throats.
My chest tightened. I took a step forward. "So this inn—it isn't real, is it? There's no inn before Thyrelith. The real one was after—the last stop before the raiders vanished."
The laughter quieted. I continued, voice low.
"This place… it's a shrine. You're a priestess—feeding on the desires of those who enter, whether good or bad. And I'm here because you can't get anything out of me."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then soft laughter again, gentler this time.
"When I first saw you," she said, "I knew you were smart. You're right, I feed on what burns within the living. But tell me, why do you have none?"
I rolled my eyes, irritation slipping through. "Because I have everything," I said evenly. "Wealth. Beauty. Power. I can fight, I can kill, I can take. I don't need desire. I already have what I want."
A sudden thud shook the floor. The light bent inward, then took shape—slowly forming the figure of a woman.
She was ethereal—beautiful in a way that didn't belong to mortals. Her skin glowed faintly, her hair drifting like smoke. Her eyes were empty yet all-seeing.
She smiled faintly. "But you have no desire to live… or to die. Tell me, are you even human?"
I stared at her, unimpressed. "What is this, a side drama?" I said dryly. "Of course I'm human. Now get me out of here."
Her grin widened, eerie and cold. "Very well. But as long as your friends have desires, they will be consumed before they reach the temple. Especially the one who yearns for his past. As for this inn…"
She raised her hand. "Find its truth yourself, Black Raider."
Her words echoed as the light dimmed and the chamber dissolved into nothing.
"The night is long," she whispered. "The silence is loud."
And then—darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of my door on the third floor, sword still in hand. The hall was quiet, untouched, like nothing had happened.
I looked up toward the upper floors.
"How good could that past be," I muttered softly, "that you'd rather relive it than face what comes next?"
Something heavy pressed against my chest. Did I really have no desire? None at all? No longing, no dream, no wish left to burn for?
No… that wasn't true.
I used to crave things once—things I'd lost somewhere between living and surviving.
I closed my eyes, a small, dry chuckle escaping my lips.
"The night is long, huh?" I whispered, walking back into my room.
And the silence swallowed my laughter whole.
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