The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the town as Lyra approached the gate. The night air was cool, its chill brushing against her skin like a whispered warning.
The guards stationed there appeared relaxed, their posture less rigid, almost as if they were distracted.
The security here was far less stringent than she had anticipated. Perhaps the main gate, which she had exited earlier, had drawn most of the attention.
"It was worth the detour," she whispered to herself, reflecting on the time it took to circle around to reach the east gate.
Lyra had left her horse in a secluded spot not far from the gate, hidden among the trees where it wouldn't attract attention.
Choosing to continue on foot, she felt the cobblestones through the thin soles of her boots, muffled by a layer of dirt, each step bringing her closer to her destination.
Drawing her cape tighter around her, she slipped through the gate unnoticed.
Once inside the town, she allowed herself to be absorbed by the crowd. The streets bustled with activity, despite the late hour.
Merchants were closing their stalls, their hands rough and calloused from a day's work, their voices raised in last-minute haggling. Laughter spilled from nearby taverns, blending with the distant clatter of hooves on cobblestone.
The mingling aromas of roasted meat, ale, and the sharp tang of unwashed bodies filled her nose, grounding her in the present moment. She kept her eyes down, the hood of her cape casting a shadow over her face as she moved purposefully through the bustling throng.
Her destination was an alchemy shop she had passed earlier, a place that had caught her eye. It stood out in stark contrast to the busier, more garish establishments surrounding it—a small, almost hidden place tucked away in a narrow alley.
As she walked, the cobblestones beneath her feet transitioned from the broad, even stones of the main road to the uneven, moss-covered ones of the alleyway.
Her breath steadied when she finally stood before the shop. The sign above the door creaked slightly in the breeze, its faded lettering barely legible under the dim light of a nearby lantern.
Lyra hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.
*Creak*
The door groaned as it swung open, the sound echoing in the quiet shop. She stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Despite the shop's unassuming exterior, its interior was unexpectedly spacious. The air was heavy with the scent of dried flowers, spices, and a faint metallic tang.
Shelves lined the walls, crammed with bottles, vials, and jars of various shapes and sizes, their contents glowing faintly under the flickering light of a few oil lamps.
'This isn't what I imagined,' she thought, her eyes scanning the shop. 'At least it's empty.'
The faint crackle of a fire could be heard from somewhere in the back of the shop, the warmth barely reaching the front where she stood. The floorboards creaked softly under her weight as she moved further inside, her fingers brushing against the cool glass of the jars as she inspected the wares.
"May I assist you?" a man's voice broke the silence, coming from behind a door near the counter.
Startled, Lyra turned to see a tall, slender man emerge. His dark green hair, unusual in its hue, cascaded to his shoulders, and he moved with an almost feline grace. His eyes, the color of moss, watched her with mild curiosity.
She swallowed, feeling the dryness in her throat, her mind racing through her options. 'Should I buy the dye here? What if he recognizes me? Can I trust him?'
The man waited, his head tilted slightly as if trying to discern her intentions. His expression remained neutral, neither welcoming nor threatening, just patient.
Finally, she cleared her throat, her voice emerging more steady than she felt. "Do you sell hair dye?"
"Hair dye?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Yes, we have some. What color are you looking for?"
Without waiting for her answer, he turned and began sifting through a wooden box behind the counter. The soft clinking of glass bottles filled the air as he set the box down, revealing an array of colors.
"Something dark and long-lasting," she specified.
The man considered her request, his fingers trailing over the bottles before selecting one filled with indigo liquid.
"This should suit your needs," he said, his tone now businesslike. "It lasts for a month and is easy to apply. Coat your hair, wait about three minutes, then rinse it out. The color is rich and natural, and because it's made from herbal ingredients, it won't damage your hair or scalp. You can reapply it after a month without any issues."
Lyra nodded, absorbing the information, her eyes fixed on the bottle in his hand. The liquid inside swirled slightly, catching the light and drawing her in. "Alright, I'll take it."
"That'll be two silver coins," he said, handing her the bottle with a friendly smile.
'...Quite expensive,' she mused, but she was relieved to find her money bag was well-stocked.
She paused, her current condition coming to mind, and slowly added, "What about a healing potion? For internal injury."
The man smiled, clasping his hands together. "We have that as well. The basic one costs a gold coin."
Startled by the price, she cleared her throat and quickly responded, "Ah, I'll just take the hair dye."
She handed over the coins without hesitation, the cool metal slipping through her fingers.
After handing over the coins, Lyra hesitated again. "Could I use your restroom? And perhaps a mirror?"
The man's eyes flicked to the door behind her, then back to her, understanding dawning in his expression. He nodded, his demeanor softening slightly, and gestured for her to follow.
"This way," he said, leading her through the door and into a dimly lit corridor. The air was cooler here, the scent of damp stone and burning wood more pronounced. The flickering light from a distant lamp cast long shadows on the walls as they walked past several closed doors.
"Here you go," he said, stopping in front of a door. "The mirror's already inside. Need any help?"
"No, I've got it. Thanks," Lyra replied quickly, closing the door behind her.
The room was small, with bare stone walls that absorbed sound, making it feel even quieter. The mirror hung above a simple basin, and a single oil lamp on a nearby shelf cast a warm glow across the room.
Lyra removed her cape, the fabric rustling softly as she hung it on a peg behind the door. Not wanting to risk staining her white shirt, she stripped it off as well, leaving it alongside her other belongings.
She approached the mirror, her reflection staring back at her. The pale light made her silver hair seem almost ghostly. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened the bottle, the scent of herbs and something sharp and chemical wafting up to meet her.
With steady hands, she poured the liquid into her palm. She worked it carefully through her hair, starting from the roots and moving down to the tips, ensuring even coverage.
Minutes later, she rinsed her hair in the small basin, watching as the dark indigo color took hold. The water felt cool and refreshing against her scalp.
With the indigo color set, her hair now hung dark and heavy around her face. She also dyed her eyebrows and lashes, making sure no trace of her previous appearance remained.
'Transformation complete.'
Satisfied with the results—her hair now a natural-looking dark shade with no sign of irritation—she redressed and made her way back to the front of the shop.
"Excuse me—" she began, but the shop was empty.
'Where did he go?'
She had planned to purchase a few more bottles, just in case, but with the owner nowhere in sight, she decided against it.
'Perhaps another time,' she thought, stepping out into the night.
The cool air hit her like a wave, the sounds and smells of the town flooding back in. She still had time before Giselle's performance.
'Besides, the searchers wouldn't possibly be combing the theater, right?'