After the grueling physical training with Rael, Zane's body felt like it was held together by nothing more than sheer willpower. Every muscle burned, his ribs ached, and his legs threatened to give out with every step. When he finally collapsed onto his bed, he sighed deeply, hoping that sleep would offer some kind of relief from the torment of the day.
But his rest would be short-lived.
A gentle knock sounded on the door, followed by the creak of it opening. Zane groaned inwardly. He knew exactly who it was before Varric even spoke.
"Zane," Varric's voice was calm and gentle, not unkind but unmistakably serious. "Lord Azrael has assigned you to work in the club tonight."
Zane blinked in disbelief and slowly sat up, wincing as his body protested the movement. "Tonight? Now? I'm barely standing, Varric. Look at me."
Varric stepped into the room and gave Zane a sympathetic look, his silvered eyes scanning over the bruises and cuts that marked Zane's body. He folded his arms and sighed, clearly understanding Zane's predicament. "I can see that, Zane. And believe me, I wouldn't ask you to work if it were my decision, but Lord Azrael has his reasons."
Zane grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Does Azrael know I'm practically falling apart?"
"He does," Varric replied, his tone softening, "and he's not asking this to be cruel. There's more to working here than just serving drinks or cleaning up. Azrael wants you to learn about this place, about the people who come here, and the kind of world you've stepped into."
Zane leaned back against the wall, still frowning but less defiant. "So, this is another one of his 'lessons,' huh?"
Varric nodded. "Exactly. And while I don't agree with making you do this while you're injured, I'll help you get through it. You won't be alone."
Zane sighed heavily, rubbing at his sore ribs. "Alright, fine. But I'm warning you, if I pass out halfway through, it's on Azrael."
Varric smiled faintly, the expression genuine and warm, before stepping aside to allow Zane to follow. "I'll make sure to keep an eye on you. Let's just take it one task at a time."
---
When Zane entered the main hall of The Afterlife, the usual vibrant chaos greeted him. The club was alive with patrons of all shapes and sizes, from demons to fae and everything in between. They chatted, laughed, and argued over drinks, oblivious to the quiet storm brewing inside Zane's body. He felt every bruise, every broken bone with each step.
Varric moved beside him, watching the flow of activity with his sharp, calculating eyes. "I won't overload you tonight," he said, keeping his voice low. "We'll start small. Get to know the place, the people. Understand how things work here. It's more about familiarizing yourself than doing hard labor."
Zane grunted, adjusting his posture to ease the ache in his back. "That sounds manageable. So, what's first?"
Varric handed him a tray of drinks, nodding toward a nearby table where a group of patrons had gathered. "Deliver these to table five. Don't worry about being quick. Just take your time."
Zane took the tray with a wince, balancing it carefully as he wove through the crowded room. Every step sent jolts of pain through his body, but he focused on the task at hand, trying to ignore the discomfort. The patrons at table five—a mix of fae and humans—barely glanced at him as he set the drinks down.
"Thanks," one of them mumbled before turning back to their conversation.
Zane sighed and returned to the bar, where Varric was already prepping the next set of drinks. Despite his injuries, Zane felt a small sense of accomplishment. At least the first task hadn't been too difficult.
Varric smiled as Zane approached. "Not bad for someone half-broken. How are you holding up?"
"Could be worse," Zane muttered, rubbing at his sore shoulder. "I think the adrenaline's keeping me going."
Varric chuckled softly. "It tends to do that. But don't push yourself too hard. If you need a break, let me know. I'll cover for you."
Zane was about to respond when a particularly rowdy group of demons caught his eye at the far end of the room. They were causing a scene, laughing loudly and throwing things across the table. He felt a pang of dread in his stomach.
Varric noticed his gaze and sighed. "Let me handle that. You're not ready for the... difficult patrons yet."
Zane didn't argue. He was barely ready to handle the easy ones.
---
Hours passed in a blur of serving drinks, clearing tables, and tending to the needs of the various supernatural patrons. Zane's body continued to ache, but Varric was true to his word—he kept the tasks manageable, never asking more than Zane could handle. Every now and then, Varric would offer a kind word or a gentle reminder to take it easy, showing a level of empathy that Zane hadn't expected from someone running a place like The Afterlife.
As the night wore on, Zane found himself standing behind the bar, wiping down glasses as Varric tallied up the night's earnings. The room had finally begun to clear out, and the once-bustling energy had faded into a quiet lull.
"You did well tonight," Varric said as he closed the ledger, glancing at Zane with an approving nod. "Especially considering the state you're in."
Zane chuckled weakly, setting the glass down. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't call it my best performance, but I survived."
Varric's expression softened, his silver eyes reflecting a rare moment of understanding. "Surviving is the first step. You'll get stronger. This place, the people here... they'll help you, even if it doesn't seem that way now."
Zane raised an eyebrow. "You really believe that?"
Varric smiled faintly. "I do. You're here for a reason, Zane. And whether you realize it or not, Azrael believes in you."
Zane wasn't sure how to respond to that. He had spent so much time wondering what Azrael's true intentions were, and now here was Varric, one of Azrael's creations, telling him that there was faith in him. It didn't make sense, but it was strangely reassuring.
Before Zane could dwell on it further, the door to the main hall swung open, and Azrael's unmistakable voice cut through the quiet.
"Zane!"
Zane turned to see Azrael standing at the entrance, his ever-present smirk playing at the edges of his lips. He waved Zane over with a casual gesture, looking every bit as mischievous as usual.
"Come here for a moment," Azrael called, leaning lazily against the doorframe. "We need to talk."
Zane exchanged a glance with Varric, who gave him a slight nod. "Go ahead. I'll finish up here."
With a deep breath and a weary body, Zane made his way toward Azrael, wondering what fresh challenge awaited him next.