Vondell woke up at the first light of dawn. Sleep wasn't something he liked very much, it was merely a means to an end.
"Surth, you overdid it," he whispered, staring at the scorch marks left all over the room. Despite the array protecting the walls, she had still managed to burn through.
He was lying in bed, a crystal dagger in hand. It had a six-winged butterfly rune on its hilt —a sealing blade. ~So this is why I passed out,~ he thought to himself. A sealing blade wasn't quite at the caliber needed to kill something like him, but it was a good start. And whoever had sent the assassin here probably knew that.
~Six winged butterfly? I don't think I've ever heard of that one,~ he thought, as he got up from bed.
He inspected himself for damage, and as suspected most of it had already healed, but the same could not be said for his armor.
He drew a bloody symbol on it and pulled out a grey vial from the leather bag.
The bloody symbol caught flame as he smashed the vial on top of it, and with that, the armor reverted to its condition the previous night.
He then cleaned what evidence was left of his guest last night, and pulled out a white vial from his leather bag.
"Activos," he whispered. Its bloody symbol caught fire as he tossed it to the middle of the room. It expelled white smoke, peeling off the purple layer from the array vial he had used last night.
As that was going on, he inspected the bow the cloaked figure had used. His memory link with Surth was fuzzy —well it was a given since she fabricated reality to make herself look more decent— so he couldn't always trust what memories they shared.
But from what was there, apparently, the bow was a conduit, the figure's conduit to be exact.
He caressed the green gem at its center, before closing his eyes. He felt his body grow light, and after a few breaths, he was sitting on a small island surrounded by blood. At the center of the island was a massive pyre, that rose to the black sky, burning with a black flame.
The bow in his hands had been replaced with a small green pebble that just barely glowed green.
"So it is awakened. But just barely. They must've gotten this weapon just recently," he whispered, before raising a hand into the air.
"I offer this sacrifice in exchange for knowledge," he whispered, before offering the gem to the pyre. The gem burned, and let out a short scream as it turned to dust.
A moment later, Vondell's mind was filled with memories of every time the Forest Kindred used the bow. It was more than just images; he could feel what the Forest Kindred had felt in those moments, its pain, its fears, its triumphs, and even its sickening love for Nyctasha.
"Empyrean whore," Vondell spat, before standing up.
He held his arms out, posing as if holding a bow. He pulled his arm back, took a deep breath, and then released it.
A burst of air blew his hair back as a thorn-like arrow shot out.
"I offer sacrifice, for nothing but knowledge. I will not repay your gift of magic, so take it back," he said, side-eyeing the pyre.
He repeated the movements once again. This time, no bolt was fire, but the movement felt as natural as breathing.
"I should've been better prepared yesterday. Perhaps my fight in the oasis has taken a toll on my thinking," he whispered to himself, admiring his new bowmanship.
"One step closer, to ascending heaven," he whispered, before releasing an imaginary arrow at the pyre.
An instant later, the world went black; and he found himself back in his room.
The vial had stopped releasing smoke, and the room looked as good as it had looked before his fight yesterday.
He picked up the empty vial and dumped it into the pockets of his armor.
"Now, time to find out what this is all about," he whispered, staring at himself in the mirror. He placed his old and rusted black helm on his head. It had holes all over it and would probably let through more arrows than newer armor would, but it was the best he would get this far away from advanced civilization.
He walked to the door and paused, looking back at the room to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Once he was satisfied, he placed a hand over the door handle and whispered "Neutras."
The door glowed slightly purple, before dimming.
*
The tavern downstairs still had a few patrons left over from the previous night, sleeping on the chairs and tables. Mila, the owner of the inn, was collecting tankards from the tables and trying, but failing, to chase the patrons away.
Vondell studied the patrons with a quick glance, before looking over to Mila.
"I haven't gotten paid by The Hall yet. But you will have your coin as soon as it reaches me," he said. Mila turned around and nearly dropped the tankards she had been carrying.
"Ninkasi's blessings. You can't sneak up on people like that. Especially you, Lord Black," she said, quickly placing the tankards down to catch her breath.
"When did you even get here? Nobody informed me you would be staying in my inn," she added, before rushing off to the kitchen. "Let me prepare something for you before you leave," she shouted from the kitchen.
Vondell stared towards the door of the tavern, there was a small statue placed right above it; of a woman carrying wheat in one hand and a tankard in the other. "No need. I can't afford the food anyway," he replied.
"Don't be foolish, heroes don't have to pay for meals and board in my tavern," she shouted back. She sounded out of breath as if she were struggling with something. "How could I call myself a child of Ninkasi otherwise?"
Vondell looked away from the statue, and back at the door. Ninkasi's followers were few and far apart, so he hadn't fought one before. But despite the goddess's apparent docile nature, she was still an Empyrean. And he didn't trust any follower of one to prepare his meals.
"Unless hero is another word for mercenary, you best stop calling me that. All the work I've done was for pay from The Hall," Vondell replied, before walking towards the door. "If you want to serve a hero, I'll call Itzel," he added.
Right as he was about to walk out, a pan came flying towards his back. He twisted around and caught it, coming face to face with an angry Mila.
Surth released glowed bright red, releasing a puff of smoke. Mila's expression softened a little once she saw that, but her eyes were still defiant.
"You did this last time, you're not doing it again," she shouted. "I never say anything when you sneak into my rooms, so you should at least be able to eat the food I've prepared."
Vondell studied her for a moment. She was one of the few in this town who weren't afraid of him. He had known her father, a good man who had chosen the wrong profession, and even worse friends. Back then, he had called Vondell a hero as well, it seemed they gave that title to any bastard who could take on the good-paying quests.
"No time, Mila. But thank you for the offer," he said, before placing the pan on a nearby table.
"What'll she say if I keep letting you leave on an empty stomach?" she shouted, pointing at the statue above the door. "You may not be a follower, but don't spit on my blessings before I even receive them," she added.
Vondell sighed, thinking it over for a moment. He still had a few vials in his leather bag; and at least two cleansing elixirs. He owed her at least this much, for stealing one of her rooms.
So he reluctantly sat down.
"That wasn't so hard. You act like I'll put poison in your food," she said, frowning slightly before retreating to the kitchen.