Mikel woke to the sound of silence. It wasn't the comforting silence of a peaceful night's rest but a strange, oppressive stillness, like the air itself was holding its breath. He sat up slowly, his muscles stiff from the uncomfortable journey, and rubbed his eyes. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. The bed was soft, almost too soft, and the sheets smelled faintly of lavender, as if someone had carefully prepared the room for his arrival.
But as his mind cleared, the memories of the inn flooded back—the door, the innkeeper's unsettling smile, and the strange sense of being watched. Mikel stood, the weight of his body pulling him down as if his very existence was being anchored to this strange place.
He glanced around the room. The fire in the hearth had burned down to embers, casting faint red light against the shadows in the corners of the room. The tapestry with the woman standing in the field was gone, replaced by another, darker one. This new tapestry depicted a figure—its face obscured by a cloak, hands outstretched as though beckoning the viewer into some forbidden place. The figure's eyes, though hidden, seemed to pierce the fabric, as though it knew Mikel was staring at it.
He shook his head, trying to banish the unsettling thought, and moved toward the door. As he reached for the handle, the door opened on its own with a soft creak. Standing in the doorway was the innkeeper, his dark eyes gleaming with that same unsettling calmness Mikel had come to expect.
"Good morning, traveler," the innkeeper said, his voice smooth as velvet, yet carrying an underlying edge. "I trust you slept well."
Mikel nodded, though he couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. He wasn't sure what he had expected from his stay here, but this odd sense of being trapped was not it.
"I… I didn't sleep much," Mikel admitted, his throat dry. "There's something about this place… it doesn't feel right."
The innkeeper's lips curled into a thin smile. "Ah, yes. The inn has that effect on many who stay here. It will take time for you to become accustomed to its… peculiarities." His gaze flickered toward the tapestry, and his expression remained unchanged. "But I assure you, the inn has its reasons for showing you what it does."
Mikel frowned, unsure whether the man was speaking in riddles or if there was something more he wasn't saying. Before he could ask, the innkeeper gestured down the hall.
"Come, you are not the only guest in the inn. There are others who have arrived before you. It would be wise to meet them—perhaps their presence will help you understand your own purpose here."
Mikel hesitated. He had no desire to meet anyone else—not yet, at least. He wanted answers, not more questions. But the innkeeper's tone was firm, almost commanding, leaving little room for argument.
"Lead the way," Mikel muttered, though he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being swept into something far beyond his understanding.
---
The hallway was quiet as they walked, the soft echo of their footsteps the only sound. The air was thick, and the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally long, clinging to the walls as if the inn itself were alive, watching them move. They passed several doors, each one closed, though Mikel couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread as they moved deeper into the building. There was something oppressive about the place—like it was waiting for something to happen, like it was a trap.
Eventually, the innkeeper stopped at a door near the end of the hall. He knocked once, gently, and when there was no response, he pushed the door open, revealing a modest sitting room. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the room. The furnishings were simple but comfortable—a couple of chairs, a small table, and a bookshelf filled with old, worn tomes.
Seated near the fire was a woman, her face partially obscured by the shadows. Her dark hair fell in waves around her shoulders, and her eyes—when they met Mikel's—were full of something he couldn't quite place. She looked at him for a long moment before speaking.
"I see we have a new guest," she said, her voice soft but carrying a weight of experience, as if she had lived through many storms. Her gaze flickered to the innkeeper. "Has he had the dream yet?"
The innkeeper's expression didn't change. "Not yet. But it is only a matter of time." He stepped into the room, gesturing for Mikel to do the same. "Naira, this is Mikel. He has just arrived."
Mikel stepped into the room, suddenly self-conscious under the woman's steady gaze. He could feel her studying him, her eyes taking in more than just his appearance. It was as though she could read his very soul.
"Hello," Mikel said awkwardly, unsure how to proceed. The air in the room felt dense, filled with a weight of unspoken things. "I didn't realize there were other guests."
"There are always others," the woman—Naira—replied, her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "The inn attracts those who need it. Some of us find what we're looking for, while others…" She trailed off, her gaze flickering to the innkeeper, then back to Mikel. "Some of us are lost, in more ways than one."
Mikel swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over him like a heavy cloak. "What do you mean? What kind of place is this?"
Naira's smile faded. "It's a place of… change. A place where things are not always what they seem. Some of us come seeking answers. Others, like you, come because there's nowhere else to go."
The innkeeper spoke again, his voice carrying the authority of someone who knew far more than he was letting on. "The Magic Inn is a place that exists between worlds—between the past, the present, and the future. It is a place that offers refuge, but it demands a price in return." He paused, his eyes shifting to Mikel's. "And sometimes, the price is far greater than you could ever imagine."
Mikel took a step back, his heart racing. This was madness. It couldn't be real.
But as the fire crackled in the hearth, casting eerie shadows on the walls, Mikel realized that he was already far too deep into whatever twisted game this place was playing. And there was no going back.
"Are you ready to face the truth of why you are here?" Naira asked, her voice a quiet challenge.
Mikel swallowed hard, his throat dry, his mind racing with unanswered questions. He wasn't sure what she meant or what he was supposed to do next, but the answer came to him slowly, as if the inn had already begun to work its magic.
"Yes," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm ready."