Eryn thought he had grown up, he endured many hard days of begging and fights for food. Usually death would visit the people of Veldria, and he endured this too, he passed the days with scraps and sleep. Each morning he would walk through Veldria, where the sun would blur behind the thick clouds.
Eryn had always seen Veldria as temporary, a passing period.
In his dreams, happiness was simple. The warmth of fire, the softness of knit clothes, the company of Alyssa and her family. He planned to betroth Alyssa, take care for her parents.
He imagined strolling through Veldria, not as a beggar but as a respected man. But, those dreams can only be dreams.
Eryn soon woke to the crackling fire and the faint aroma of medicine. The stone floor bit into him, and shadows danced on the walls. He sat up, his body aching, and stared into the low-fire.
He heard whispers coming from the fire, someone familiar, but a blur.
"You never grow up," a voice echoed. "You endure and take it slow."
"I don't want to endure," he replied sparingly.
"No one does," came the voice.
"Does it matter?" Eryn snapped, his anger roaring.
He gripped the cup of medicine beside him and threw it into the fire. The flames hissed and spit as the liquid met the heat.
Eryn stared at the fire, fingers twitching. The air felt thick. He breathed in, slow.
"They're gone," he said quietly. He paused. "You're gone."
He leaned closer to the fire, its warmth curling against his skin. He held on, eyes fixed past the flames. He drowned in thoughts.
In his silence, a steady, feminine voice came. "Medicine doesn't belong in the fire." The tone was gentle but firm. "Your wounds aren't healed."
"I'll be fine." Eryn turned to see her. "Where am I? Where is this?"
She was there, in the doorway, where her face was half hidden in the shadows.
"You're safe," she said, kneeling by him.
"For now," she added, eyes on the door.
She reached to hold him, her hand warm and steady. Eryn shivered from her embrace. His gaze softened as he turned to meet her eyes. She remined him of Alyssa, she looked like her, but he only had hope, and hope was foolish.
Alyssa was gone.
"Why help me?" His voice was flat. "There's no kindness here. Not Veldria."
"There are moments," she said, as she fixed her eyes to the flame.
The fire crackled, and whispers rose.
Eryn's mind followed, scattering, like ash, his home was long burned away.
His fingers twitched. He reached for the fire, then pulled away. It wasn't enough. His eyes looking around. The woman reached out, placing both hands on his shoulders, facing Eryn's gaze.
"In Veldria you eat or die."
"Yeah," he replied as he found his cold hands to his side.
He heard those words many times. So Eryn can only nod, though the weight of his loss still pressed heavy. He closed his eyes and turned to the fire, the warmth seeping into his aching body. The woman's presence was a good reminder, that even in Veldria there is kindness. That behind the thick clouds, in the sky, the sun still rose.
The fire crackled, its flames desperate. It touched nothing but cold air.
"What's your name?" he asked, his eyes still closed.
"Liora," she replied toward the fire.
"Liora," Eryn repeated. "What do I do now?"
"Eryn," Liora snapped back to his gaze. "Things are tough to explain."
"Veldria was never real. Not the way you experienced it. You saw from the inside, not the whole picture."
"They were real," Eryn snapped.
"What am I doing here?" Eryn clenched his jaw. "If things were right, I'd be wrapped in linen, not bandages."
"It's different here." Eryn stood, his hands clenched as white as ice. His gaze focused on the fire, but his body froze. The words came through his chapped lips, more to the fire than to her. He stood, his muscles holding still. The fire crackled, but it was blowing cold wind.
"I don't know how to move forward," he said, loosening his grip. "I should thank you. But I don't."
"If the others knew I stood here struggling to move forward they would think I am hungry, they would give me food, give me drinks." he said aloud.
"But you're here, there must be something more than drink and food."
He could walk away, his scars would heal, he has done it before. The boney teen could return to the jagged streets. For a long time before Alyssa he had lived.
Liora gripped his arm, pulling him away from the fire.
"I'm tired." he whispered.
"It's never simple," she replied as she reached for clothes to give to Eryn.
"These look better than the bandages."
The clothes were torn and stitched to piece. They were dirtied, stained, but they were clothes that he needed. For a long time now he wore the same clothes. He had them knitted, and that was all he needed for the cold weather.
She waited for him.
"It's cold," he replied as he dressed. "But, if you had more then I'd be warm."
She walked off, opening the door for Eryn to follow her.
"This is the mercenary guild," she lead the way through thin hallways.
"The madam pulls strings and you appear here."
"Who is the madam?" Eryn's voice echoed behind Liora.
She continued to walk without responding, boots clapping on the hard stone. Eryn was behind, following her shadow. He walked through the stone hallways. There was no windows, only doors that led to rooms like Eryn found himself.
"What now?" he asked. "Where do I go?"
Eryn reached for Liora to stop.
"The king called for death to those touched by those heretics."
"Yes, Eryn, but the king doesn't kill them all," she replied with a smile.
"The madam lives above us." the woman pointed upward, with confidence.
"Those nobles speak. We do their work, that is if we get coin."
"This is how we find fate."