"Greetings, stranger! You looked taken aback by my sudden outburst. Yes, I'm fully aware that you are the one observing this story – and here I am trying to engage in conversation with you! But don't fret; it's not like you can actually respond to me.
After all, you lack a mortal soul and you are nothing but a mere watcher watching the story and the life of mortals here, As for me, feel free to call me as you wish; after all, my name is of no importance here. Anyway, keep your eyes fixed on that magic mirror over there – it'll tell you more about this place than I ever could.
Oh, you are blind; you can't see, you can only hear. "This is truly something new!" Wait let me do this, now the mirror will talk also telling you everything no matter how ridicule it is, farewell Watcher"
As the night fell, a chilling cold settled upon the small village. All the residents hurriedly sought refuge in their homes, the glow of windows radiating warmth and creating a mesmerizing sight as snowflakes gracefully danced down from the sky. The silence was punctuated only by a faint call:
"Wood, wood for the fire!" It was the voice of a little girl roaming through the village on that cold night, dressed in a leather garment that did not offer her skinny body much warmth.
"I'm so cold", she thought to herself, "Uncle Graham wouldn't let me into his house for the night. I know he'll hit me if I don't sell enough wood. Oh Mom, why couldn't you be here? Uncle Graham hasn't kept his promise of looking after me - instead, all his love is reserved for his son. At least I have this cloth as a shield against the chill."
She struggled forward, her tiny hands clenched around the handle of her wooden cart.
The wheels groaned with each step she made, the weight of the wood making it hard to move on the icy terrain. "Ouch! My hands hurt..oh, not again this is the third time they get black it's frostbite," she muttered.
As the night deepened, the little girl became more and more desperate to sell all her wood. She knew that if she didn't sell enough, she would be beaten by her uncle. She shuddered at the thought. Suddenly, she saw a cabin in the distance.
The windows emanated a comforting warmth. She hesitated for a moment before pushing her cart towards it.
As she got closer, she noticed that it was the same cabin that had always scared the villagers, and she felt a wave of fear wash over her.
But she had to sell her wood, and Uncle Graham had always told her to never come back home with any unsold. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
There was no answer at first, and she was about to turn away when the door creaked open, revealing a figure with white messy hair and piercing yellow eyes." Mi..mister do you need wood It will keep you warm," she asked, her voice shaking with fear.
The man looked down at her with his intense gaze, his scars making him look even more intimidating.
He didn't speak for a moment, merely studying her with a keen eye.
Finally, he nodded "How much for all the wood in the cart"The little girl was surprised by the man's willingness to buy all her wood.
She had never sold everything in one go before. It almost seemed too good to be true, but she didn't hesitate in answering his question.
"Three silver coins for everything, Mister," she replied, her voice still shaky. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out the coins, studying them for a moment before handing them over to the little girl.
As she counted the coins in her palm, the man took the cart from her and began unloading the wood.
"Mister this is 25 silver coins" she whispered, still unable to shake off the fear of seeing him The man merely grunted in response as he continued to unload the wood without looking at her.
The little girl watched him silently, unsure of what to say next. She had expected the man to be more intimidating and cruel, based on what the villagers had told her about him.
But as she watched him work, she noticed many scars on his face and arms, indicating a past full of struggles and battles.
She wondered what kind of life he must have lived to earn such scars and why he chose to live all alone in this seemingly cursed cabin.
The man whirled around to face her, his golden eyes piercing into her. "I've taken the wood," he said. "Now you take these silver coins, use them to buy medicine for the frostbite, and get a hot meal at the inn."The girl stared at the coins in her palm, unsure of whether to take them or not.
The man's fierce gaze unnerved her, and the scars on his face made him look more intimidating than ever.
"Thank you," she muttered, clutching the coins tightly. "But...what's your name?"The man's eyes softened slightly at her question. He studied her for a moment before replying in a gruff voice, "Call me Aerovind."The girl gave a slight nod and a tiny grin.
"Thanks, Mister Aero," she said. "I'll be sure to return the favor someday. Oh, and by the way, my name is Ela." With that, she spun on her heel and took off running toward town.
Aerovind watched her while she walked away, his eyes never leaving her until she was gone. "Well," he said aloud to himself, "I think I'm broke again - I spent all my money on that cart of wood. At least I have a jug of milk." Aerovind walked back towards his cabin and pushed the door open with a creak.
The interior was dimly lit, the only source of illumination being a flickering candle on a wooden table. Aerovind walked over to the table, his boots echoing on the wooden floor.
He took a deep breath sat down and scanned the walls. His sword hung there, shining silver along its right edge and obsidian on the left. It was long and well-crafted.
Aerovind leaned back in his chair, feeling the tension in his body slowly dissipate as he gazed at the sword.
"What a gift from my mentor, He taught me the art of swordsmanship. I had spent years mastering the blade and perfecting my technique, and it had served me... so differently back then".
Aerovind savored the creamy flavor of the milk, taking a small sip from his jug.
"What would my mentor think if he could see me now? A skilled killer reduced himself to giving away his coins to a little girl. He wouldn't be pleased, but he's no longer alive—perhaps cursing me from the depths of Hades."
Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the table, staring at the candle's flame. "I had to do it; he was too dangerous to keep alive. How ironic, the way he trained his own killer."