After finishing the meal Maela brought over—simple but hearty stew with fresh bread—Changra leaned back in his chair, savoring the rare sensation of being full. The warmth of the fire and the soft hum of conversation in the inn felt almost surreal, like a dream he might wake from at any moment.
Meryn stood, stretching slightly. "Come on," she said, tilting her head toward the stairs. "I'll show you to your room."
Changra followed her up the narrow staircase, his boots creaking softly against the wooden steps. The second floor was quieter, the dimly lit hallway lined with doors. Meryn stopped at the third one on the left and pushed it open, gesturing for him to enter.
The room was modest but cozy. A small bed with a thick quilt sat against one wall, and a simple wooden desk stood by the window. A basin of water and a clean towel rested on a stand in the corner, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.
"Well," Changra said, stepping inside and glancing around. "This is… way nicer than what I'm used to."
Meryn smiled. "It's not much, but it's comfortable."
Changra set his bag down by the bed, running a hand through his hair as he turned to face her. "So, uh… how exactly am I supposed to pay for all this?" he asked, his tone light but laced with genuine concern. "Pretty sure I don't have any of your fancy Elakian currency."
Meryn's smile didn't falter. Instead, she reached into a small pouch at her side and pulled out a few silver coins. "Don't worry about it," she said simply. "I'll cover it."
"What?" Changra blinked, his brow furrowing. "Meryn, you don't have to do that. I—"
"Kael," she interrupted gently, her voice firm but kind. "It's fine. Two weeks, on me. Consider it my way of saying welcome."
He opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I don't even know what to say," he admitted, his voice quieter. "Thank you."
Meryn nodded, her gray eyes warm. "You're welcome. Get some rest—you look like you need it."
Changra chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, that's probably an understatement."
As Meryn stepped toward the door, she paused, glancing back at him. "If you need anything, just let Maela know. And don't worry—you're safe here."
The words hung in the air, their sincerity striking a chord deep within him. For a moment, all he could do was nod.
After she left, closing the door behind her, Changra sank onto the bed. The mattress was firm but comfortable, and the quilt was surprisingly soft. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, his mind racing.
Safe. The word felt foreign, almost impossible. But as he lay there, listening to the faint sounds of the inn below, he let himself believe—just for a moment—that maybe it was true.
Changra was just starting to relax, his head sinking into the surprisingly soft pillow, when a quiet knock echoed through the room. He sat up immediately, his body tensing out of instinct. The knock came again, soft but insistent.
"Uh… yeah?" he called, his voice cautious.
A girl's voice came from the other side of the door. "Excuse me… can I come in?"
Changra hesitated, his gaze darting toward the door. He wasn't sure what to expect—this village had been kind so far, but old habits died hard. Slowly, he stood and walked over, cracking the door open just enough to see who was there.
Standing in the dim hallway was a girl who looked to be about his age, maybe a year or two younger. Her silver hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her gray eyes sparkled with curiosity. She wore a simple dress of amber fabric, the sleeves slightly frayed as if it had been worn often.
"Hi," she said, offering him a small smile. "Sorry to bother you, but… are you the traveler Meryn brought in?"
Changra blinked, caught off guard by her directness. "Uh, yeah," he said after a moment. "That's me. And you are…?"
"Oh, sorry!" she said quickly, her cheeks flushing faintly. "I'm Lysa. I live just down the road from the inn. Meryn told me about you."
"Did she now?" Changra said, leaning against the doorframe. His smirk flickered into place, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess I'm the talk of the town."
Lysa laughed softly, her embarrassment fading. "Not exactly. But we don't get many visitors, and… well, I wanted to meet you."
Changra tilted his head, his smirk fading slightly. "Why?"
Her gaze dropped to the floor, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess… you seemed interesting. Like you've seen a lot."
He hesitated, her words stirring something he wasn't sure how to respond to. Finally, he stepped back and gestured to the room. "Well, you're here now. Come in, if you want."
Lysa's face lit up with a mixture of relief and curiosity as she stepped inside. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the modest furnishings and the travel-worn bag resting by the bed. "This place isn't much, but it's cozy, isn't it?"
"Better than where I've been sleeping," Changra said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. "So, what do you want to know?"
Lysa's gaze snapped back to him, her cheeks reddening again. "I didn't mean to—"
"Relax," he said, cutting her off gently. "I'm not mad. Just figured you had questions."
She hesitated, then nodded, her curiosity outweighing her embarrassment. "Alright," she said, sitting on the small stool near the desk. "Where are you from?"
Changra leaned back, folding his arms. "Far from here," he said vaguely. "A place without magic. Not much else to say."
Her brow furrowed. "No magic? That sounds… lonely."
He chuckled softly, though there was little humor in it. "You're not wrong."
Lysa tilted her head, studying him. "And what brought you here? To Elakia?"
Changra's smirk returned, though it was sharper now, more guarded. "Bad luck, mostly," he said lightly. "Got caught up in something I didn't understand. One moment I was there, and the next… here."
She didn't push for more details, sensing the weight behind his words. Instead, she shifted the conversation. "Do you plan on staying here? In the village, I mean?"
Changra shrugged. "Haven't decided yet. Seems nice, though. Peaceful."
"It is," Lysa said, her voice softening. "But peaceful can be boring. Don't you think?"
He raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Guess that depends on what you're used to."
They fell into a comfortable silence, the faint crackle of the fireplace downstairs filling the space. Lysa seemed content just to be there, her curiosity sated for the moment.
Finally, she stood, brushing off her dress. "I should let you rest," she said, her smile returning. "It was nice meeting you, Kael."
"Yeah," Changra said, his smirk softening into something more genuine. "You too."
As she reached the door, she glanced back at him. "If you need anything, just ask. The village takes care of its own."
With that, she slipped out of the room, leaving Changra alone once more. He sat there for a moment, staring at the closed door, before lying back on the bed with a sigh.
"Interesting place," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Maybe too interesting."
As the sound of Lysa's footsteps faded down the hall, Changra lay back on the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. The faint glow of the lantern by the window cast soft shadows across the room, and the warmth of the fire downstairs still lingered in the air.
He let out a long breath, his thoughts tumbling over one another like leaves caught in a current. "Alright, Kael," he muttered to himself, testing the name again. "What's the plan?"
He turned onto his side, his fingers tracing the edges of the quilt absentmindedly. "Stay here? Seems easy enough. They're nice, nobody's tried to kill me yet… that's a first." He let out a dry laugh, but it quickly faded into silence.
"Or I could keep moving," he murmured, his voice quieter now. "No attachments, no expectations. Just… survive."
His gaze drifted to the small bag by the bed, the meager supplies a stark reminder of the past three months. The memory of the fox-caterpillars' chirps, the cold nights, and the constant ache of hunger flashed through his mind. He had survived, but it had been far from living.
"Staying means… what?" he asked aloud, his voice filling the quiet room. "Belonging? Being part of something?" He snorted softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, right. Like that's ever worked out."
But the village was different. The people here didn't look at him with fear or suspicion. Meryn had welcomed him without hesitation, and even Lysa's curiosity had felt genuine. The warmth of their kindness clashed with the icy wall he'd built around himself, leaving him uncertain.
"What if I screw it up?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "What if staying here just makes things worse—for me and them?"
He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling again. The rhythmic creaks of the inn settling in the night filled the silence. He could hear faint murmurs of conversation downstairs, the sounds of a community that had embraced him without knowing a thing about him.
His chest tightened as a wave of doubt washed over him. "Maybe it's better to go," he said, though the words felt hollow. "Keep moving. Keep them safe from… whatever it is I bring with me."
But then he thought of the bread Maela had given him, the way Meryn had covered his stay without hesitation, and Lysa's quiet offer of help. These weren't people who turned their backs on others, even strangers. It was a foreign concept to him, but one that stirred something deep within—a flicker of hope, fragile but persistent.
"Maybe," he said softly, closing his eyes, "maybe I'll figure it out tomorrow."