Claire had just arrived at the capital gate, but now she wanted nothing more than to turn back out of sheer embarrassment. Why? Because Storm, her colossal horse that was at least twice the size of a normal one, had decided that the guard's hair made for a decent snack.
"Miss… First, why do you have a nightwalker as a horse?" the guard demanded, clearly unnerved as he attempted to straighten his uniform while keeping a wary distance from the horse.
Claire hesitated. "Um… I found him injured and decided to keep him."
The guard's eyes narrowed. "Why is it looking at me like it wants to eat me?"
"Oh, he definitely wants to eat you," Claire said matter-of-factly, "but he knows he'd have to deal with me afterward, and that's not worth it."
The guard blinked at her, then at Storm, who still stared at him like he was dinner. "You know what? Shackle that thing and you're good to go. I don't want to end up as its midnight snack."
"Thanks, and sorry about him again," Claire said quickly, fumbling with Storm's reins.
"Just go already!" the guard snapped, his voice rising with barely concealed panic. "That thing's going to haunt my nightmares."
"Okay, okay. Bye, mister guard!" Claire said, hurriedly leading Storm past the gate.
Storm, however, didn't make it easy. He kept glancing back at the guard with a predatory gleam in his eye. But even the massive horse seemed to weigh his options, deciding that staying out of Claire's bad books was preferable to a quick bite of the terrified man. With an annoyed snort, he followed her quietly.
Once they were clear of the gate, Claire shook her head. She had other things to focus on, like finding the man her grandfather had mentioned. Her first stop was the Merchant's Guild. Upon arriving, she left Storm outside with a stern warning not to cause trouble—though she doubted he'd listen.
The moment Claire stepped inside the guild hall, she felt disoriented. The air shimmered, and suddenly she was somewhere else entirely—a blank room with nothing but a chair in the center. Sitting in the chair was none other than the self-proclaimed "Author," who gestured for her to take a seat opposite him.
As soon as she sat down, the Author began to speak. "Claire, I've done my part. From this point forward, you must continue your journey alone. You'll face powerful enemies—some even of divine status. You must become strong enough to defeat them."
"Divine status?" Claire repeated, incredulous. "Angels? Executioners? Those are way too strong—"
"Claire," the Author interrupted, his tone calm but firm. "If the primordial light is the amrita that created them, then you will be the halahala to end it."
"Wait, what are amrita and halaha—"
"You'll understand when the time is right," the Author said abruptly, standing up as though to leave.
"Don't you dare cut me off, you son of a—"
The room dissolved around her before she could finish her sentence, and she returned to the guild hall. Furious, Claire clenched her fists. That "crazy, self-proclaimed god" had done it again! She would curse him later. For now, she had to focus on finding Arthur, the man her grandfather had mentioned.
Her thoughts were interrupted by an elderly man who approached her at the entrance. "Are you all right, miss?"
Claire flushed, realizing she'd been standing there like an idiot. "Yes, I'm fine," she said quickly before heading to the receptionist's desk.
She asked the receptionist to arrange a meeting with Mr. Arthur and waited impatiently. After some time, the receptionist returned, looking slightly hesitant. "The Guild Master would like to meet you first," she said, guiding Claire toward an office at the back of the building.
As Claire followed her, she couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation—and a hint of dread. Whatever lay ahead, it was clear her journey was only just beginning.
To be continued…