The air around us went still.
We had just realized that since enrolling at the academy, we had never actually signed anything. No contract, no papers or process—nothing "legal." And now the three of us, myself included, had agreed to go hunting for a mineral down in that cave.
Following the directions on the flyer, we made for the registration center.
It was packed—a whole world folded into one square. Old mercenaries leaned against the tall gates, trading their stories with anyone who would stand still long enough. Young adventurers burned with hunger for glory and a name. Poster-bearers cried their employers' business into the din. And then, finally, us.
We were so busy drinking in the spectacle that the flyer in Muna's hand did nothing for us. We had approached plenty of people in the time we'd spent there, and every one had given us nothing to work with. The few who looked like they knew something also looked like they would kill us for knowing it.
Or maybe I was too far inside my own head again. Maybe I should stop daydreaming and actually help. After all, 'that' artifact would take care of the note-taking.
"It's not here either. Man, why do we even have to get certified?" Kyle whined, worn down by all the walking. Order and intention came to him as naturally as breathing, and our aimless circling was wearing him thin.
After what felt like an eternity, we found Tindie—or what was supposed to be Tindie. Nothing about the place matched the association the hairy little man had praised so dearly. Where the flyer had promised gleaming facilities and a line of applicants wrapped around the block, there stood a run-down shop: a sagging thatch roof, old crumbling blocks, and not a soul in sight.
We doubted ourselves at first. We checked the flyer over and over and asked around, to no avail. It was only when we saw the old, broken wooden sign—still holding up the big letters "TIN" above the small crooked door—that we decided this had to be it.
"If this is it, why is it so old? Who even made that stupid flyer?" Muna grumbled loudly.
"It may just be an old flyer. For all we know, that picture was the place at its absolute peak." Or maybe that demented old man had been wasting our time. I said the last part aloud, and they both turned to me in half agreement.
Just as we were about to give up, an old man rose from a bench as we passed—and Muna, unlucky as ever, walked straight into him. He looked frail, his white complexion and bleached hair telling tales of a thousand years.
"Oh—my apologies, sir. I hope we can move past this." Muna bowed slightly, right arm extended, left hand clasped beneath the forearm, the flyer still pinched in those same fingers. In this part of the continent, you greeted an elder with the right arm—and a bow, if your back allowed it.
The man grumbled. Then his eyes darted to the flyer in Muna's left hand—and between one blink and the next, it was gone.
"Where did you get this from, young man?" His voice was a low rumble.
"Get wh—"
He held the flyer above his eyes, reading it. Muna couldn't believe it. Kyle's jaw was somewhere down on the stone road. I just stood there.
"If you got this from Nathan, then Nathan is due a good warning," the old man said. "You were looking for Tindie's, weren't you? Follow me."
And we followed him blindly, the way people do.
The door looked ancient. The walls were made of some strange stone—spotless, the thatched roof we saw outside had to be some facade, as the inner working of it was delicate and strong looking, and at the same time scored with the strikes of many weapons. The floor was no different.
It was quite the small room.
He settled into a rocking chair behind a massive desk, pulled open a drawer, and brought out a stack of old, dusty files. He took one last look at the flyer, and his expression darkened. Then, composure gathered, he looked up at us and flicked a slip of paper at Muna. Muna caught it awkwardly and thanked him—and was shown the door.
"Why are you helping us?" Muna had to ask as we made our way out. He stopped just short of the doorframe, fingers still tracing the slip. None of us knew what it truly was; we only knew it would prove useful. We accepted it all the same.
The old man paused.
He stroked his white hair once more. As he looked at us, a brief worry slipped out before he could hide it—then came a low grumble, and the slam of the door before us.
The walk was long and the process a riddle, but we got through it in the end, without a hitch—most likely because whenever we handed over the old man's paper, the officers would scramble through their files and cough a little louder than necessary.
Then we armed ourselves the only way we knew how. The stock weapons felt tight and unfulfilling, like wearing another man's gloves.
"Are you sure, Oliver? We should take the register's advice and get the shield, no?" Kyle asked me, concern in every word. He was mid-battle with his metal boots, and the sweat beading down his pale face was proof of how that fight was going.
"No. Don't forget—special trait. I don't need it. In fact, I find this armor unnecessary."
I was born a demon, and nobody has ever let me forget it.
"All right, I was only checking on you. You know you can still feel pain, right? You'll overload your core if you keep bombarding it with work." He sighed.
I hate my condition. I wish I had never been born—never been handed this stolen life. But there is an arithmetic to it that no one else sees: every ounce of pain I take is a pound of sorrow lifted off my chest.
"Guys, we're behind. Two weeks 'til we resume. Let's get this done." Muna swung past us.
How can he walk so freely? Does he not feel the weight of the chains of the past? I envy him. I wish I could be him—speak like him, effortlessly. Instead, I keep walking this tainted, useless path.
--
"That was the last one" Muna gasped, dropping his sword as his hands fell on his thighs, breathing like a dog. Kyle sat beside him puffing even harder. Our shields were broken, sheathes missing and amor worn and torn. To put the icing on the cake--a boulder came crashing down by the entrance, and we were locked inside. Ever since then, we've been through waves of strange beasts, with suspicious coordination.
We haven't been through anything we couldn't handle, but I could sense something dangerous ahead. Something I definitely knew we couldn't handle.
To be honest, every bone in my body was screaming at me get out of here.
But we cant leave now, and we definitely cant escape, so that meant we were alone in this dark, wet cave. Dangerous situation, no way out, defenses running low and morale crumbling. Surely its not time for a stunning realization right? Well, Kyle thought otherwise.
Kyle picked up his sword and glanced in his reflection.
"What if this was a set up?"