Mikel's mind swirled with the revelations from Dorian. You've forgotten her, the old man had said. The woman in his dreams. She wasn't just some figment of his imagination—she was real, or at least, had been. The words lingered in his thoughts like an unanswered question, a puzzle that refused to be solved. Who was she? And why had the inn brought her to him in his dreams?
As Mikel left Dorian's room, the weight of his words hung heavily on him. The corridor seemed darker now, the shadows deeper, as if the very inn was alive, watching him, waiting for him to understand. He could feel the pulse of the place, the ancient rhythm that seemed to vibrate through the air, resonating with something inside him that he couldn't quite grasp.
Naira walked silently beside him, her footsteps soft on the stone floor. She hadn't said a word since leaving Dorian's room, but Mikel could sense her presence, could feel her watching him, waiting for him to make sense of it all.
"Are you alright?" Naira finally asked, breaking the silence. Her voice was gentle, but there was an underlying concern in it that Mikel couldn't ignore.
Mikel paused, his hand resting against the wall for support. "I don't know what to think anymore. Dorian... he said I've forgotten something. Someone. But I don't remember her. How can I remember someone I've never met?" His voice was shaky, but he pushed forward. "It doesn't make sense."
Naira gave a small, knowing smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "The inn works in strange ways, Mikel. It doesn't give answers all at once. Sometimes, the past hides itself from us because we are not ready to face it. The inn has a way of making us confront what we have buried, even if we do not wish to."
Mikel's breath caught in his chest. "You said the inn draws people in who are lost. But what if I don't want to find whatever it is I've lost? What if I'm not ready to face it?"
Naira stopped walking, turning to face him. Her eyes, full of ancient wisdom, met his with an intensity that made him feel small, like she could see into the very depths of his soul.
"You don't get to choose, Mikel," she said quietly. "The inn chooses for you. It brought you here because you are meant to remember. You are meant to find the pieces of yourself that have been scattered, hidden away by your own fear. It is not about whether you are ready—it is about whether you are willing to face the truth when it is revealed to you."
Mikel's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to process her words. He had thought he was in control, that he could make his own decisions, but the more he stayed at the inn, the more it felt like the walls were closing in on him. There was no escape. The inn had him, whether he liked it or not.
"I'm scared," Mikel admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them. "What if I don't like what I find? What if the truth is something I can't handle?"
Naira's expression softened, and she placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "That fear is what keeps us from seeing clearly. But remember, Mikel, the truth is not something that can hurt you—it is only the lies we tell ourselves that cause us pain. The inn won't show you anything you cannot handle. It will only show you what you need to see."
Her words were like a balm on his troubled soul, but they didn't erase the doubt gnawing at him. He didn't know if he was ready for the answers the inn was promising. Could he really face what had been hidden from him for so long?
Without another word, Naira turned and walked down the hallway, her pace slow, as if she were waiting for him to catch up. Mikel followed, his steps hesitant, unsure of what the next moment would bring.
As they made their way back to the common room, the flickering light from the hearth illuminated the stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows across the floor. Mikel could hear the faint murmur of voices, the soft clinking of mugs, and the occasional burst of laughter from the guests gathered in the room. But it all felt distant, muffled, like he was separated from the world by a thick veil.
When they reached the door to the common room, Naira paused and turned to him. "You are not alone in this journey, Mikel. There are others here who have walked the path before you. Some have found what they were looking for, and others…" She hesitated, her voice trailing off. "Others have had to leave, unable to bear the weight of the truth."
Mikel nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "And what about you? What did you find?"
Naira's expression flickered for a moment, a shadow crossing her face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the calm, unreadable mask she wore so well. "I found my path, just as you will find yours. But remember, Mikel, the inn does not let us walk alone. You may not see them yet, but there are others here who have been waiting for you. People who will help you understand."
With that, she opened the door and stepped inside, leaving Mikel standing in the hallway, her words echoing in his mind. You are not alone.
Taking a deep breath, Mikel followed her into the common room, his eyes scanning the crowd. It seemed like an ordinary evening at the inn—guests seated around tables, talking and laughing, the crackling of the fire in the hearth filling the space with warmth. But something about the room felt different now. He couldn't shake the feeling that everyone in this place had their own story, their own journey, and that somehow, they were all connected.
He caught sight of Dorian sitting near the back, his gaze fixed on the fire as if lost in thought. The old man's words echoed in Mikel's mind: The inn does not make mistakes.
Mikel's eyes narrowed. What had brought him here? What was the truth that the inn had in store for him? And most importantly, why did the inn feel so much like a crossroads—a place where lives converged, destinies were shaped, and the past was never truly buried?
As Mikel walked further into the room, he noticed a figure sitting alone at a table, her back turned to him. She was cloaked in a dark, hooded robe, her features hidden in shadow. But something about her posture, the way she sat perfectly still, made Mikel's breath catch in his throat.
It was her.
The woman from his dream.
She turned slowly, and Mikel's heart skipped a beat. Her eyes, those same hollow, dark eyes, met his gaze across the room, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fall away.
The dream had returned. And this time, Mikel wasn't sure if he was ready to face it.
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