See the Light Chapter 2 Song for the Souls Part 3

Chapter 2 Song for the Souls Part 3

Horses. I had no idea how to ride one. The thought of trying and possibly killing myself within the first ten meters crossed my mind. No, that was definitely not an option. Instead, I quickly walked through the stables, taking in the sight of the magnificent animals. Their coats gleamed, their manes long and silky. Their eyes were large and glistened with a calm, peaceful intelligence.

What made everything here so serene? Even the people who had brought me to this town, they looked like brutes, like the kind of men who could easily kill me without a second thought. But they hadn’t. They had fed me, given me shelter, and the few times they had hit me, it had been more out of frustration than cruelty. It was strange, unsettling even. As if someone or something was using some kind of psychic power to keep them in check.

I quickly dismissed the thought as ridiculous, though it lingered at the back of my mind. I opened the door leading out of the stables and slipped into the shadows, moving with a surprising ease. I had no idea where I’d acquired these skills, but they were there, embedded deep within me.

I moved slowly, confidently, staying in the shadows, avoiding eye contact with anyone who passed by. My face remained impassive, hiding the turmoil of thoughts swirling in my head. As I made my way towards the outskirts of the small city, I realized now was the time for a change of clothes, and fast. But I couldn’t just leave my current outfit behind. I needed something to make me blend in, to make me less conspicuous.

Yes, I thought, maybe I could find something to throw over what I was already wearing. That would be enough for now.

I remembered that I was once very skilled at making clothes, my hands always deft with fabrics. So, when I spotted a long cloth draped carelessly over a fence, I reached out to touch it. The sensation was incredible, the material smooth and luxurious, unlike anything I had felt before. Without hesitation, I wrapped it around my shoulders, hoping it would help me blend in. It wasn’t the most convincing disguise, but it would have to do for now.

The alley I found myself in was wide and shrouded in the dim light of a clouded night. Shadows clung to the corners, offering a welcome cover as I moved through the town. I needed to find someone who was heading out of town—and fast. But first, I needed a place to lay low, to gather my thoughts and plan my next move.

As I walked deeper into the town, my fingers brushed against the rough, unfamiliar textures of the buildings. The structures were crude, almost haphazard, as if they were pieced together with whatever materials people could find. Yet, despite their makeshift appearance, I couldn’t recognize any of the materials. It was unsettling, this sense of alienation that crept over me. I hoped the entire world wasn’t like this—primitive, strange, and devoid of anything familiar. That would be disastrous.

Hours must have passed as I wandered, my mind racing to piece together a coherent plan. Finally, I stumbled upon something that vaguely resembled a hotel. The building was sturdier than the others, with an air of permanence that suggested it might offer some kind of refuge. It was as good a place as any to start.

As I pushed open the rusty door, expecting the familiar cold touch of metal, I was again taken aback by the unusual sensation under my fingertips. It felt... different, like nothing I’d encountered before. Stepping inside, I was met with the bustling noise of the room—people eating, talking, drinking, and playing games that only vaguely resembled the ones from home. The bar, seemingly made of wood, gave off an aura of familiarity, yet something about it felt off, like everything else in this strange world.

I approached the bar, my heart pounding as the bartender's gaze fixed on me. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a wave of self-consciousness washed over me. Of course, he’s staring—I must look like a mess. I hadn’t washed, brushed my teeth, or combed my hair in... who knows how long. But then, as my eyes flicked to a mirror behind the bar, I froze.

The reflection staring back at me wasn’t the one I expected. I didn’t look ragged or worn. In fact, I looked... better, healthier, more vibrant than I ever had before. My skin had a glow, my eyes were bright, and my hair, as I pulled the cloth from my head, cascaded around me in a shimmering wave, longer and more lustrous than I remembered.

The bartender’s gaze softened, his eyes lingering on my hair as it swirled around me. Something had changed about me, something profound, but I had no idea what. My appearance seemed to have transformed in this place, and it was both unsettling and oddly empowering.

He tilted his head slightly, studying me with a look that was part curiosity, part wariness. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"That’s right," I replied, my voice steady despite the nervous flutter in my chest.

His gaze held mine for a moment longer giving me time to make my own assesment of him.

There was something srtiking about this man of indeterminate age, with the kind of rugged handsomeness that had clearly weathered countless storms. His hair, a mix of salt and pepper, was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his beard was trimmed close to his jaw, giving him a look that was both disciplined and dangerously appealing. Deep lines etched into his sun-tanned skin hinted at a life lived hard, with each wrinkle telling a story of its own.

His eyes, though—those were the most striking feature. They were a shade of blue so pale they were almost silver, sharp and unyielding, like the edge of a finely honed blade. They missed nothing, flickering with an visible amount of intelligence and a wariness that spoke of secrets carefully guarded and a past better left buried. When he looked at you, it was as if he was peeling back the layers of your soul, weighing your worth, deciding whether you were friend or foe.

His broad shoulders and muscular frame suggested he was no stranger to hard labor—or to fighting, should the situation demand it. There was an ease to his movements, a casual confidence that came from knowing he could handle whatever trouble might walk through his door.

His clothes were simple but well-made, a dark tunic that fit snugly across his chest, and trousers tucked into sturdy boots that looked like they’d seen their share of rough terrain. He wore a leather bracelet on one wrist, the kind that might once have been a token of affection—or a mark of loyalty to some long-forgotten cause.

But it was his demeanor that truly set him apart. There was a quiet authority in the way he carried himself, an unspoken command that kept the rowdy patrons in line with little more than a glance. And yet, beneath the rough exterior, there was a flicker of something softer—perhaps a trace of the man he might have been before life had hardened him.

"How can I help you?" He asked.

I took a breath, deciding honesty was my best bet. "May I be frank with you?"

"Honesty is a rare thing around these parts," he said, his tone almost wistful. "At least, it has been for the past few hundred years."

I smiled, feeling a strange sense of connection in his words. My brain to busy to think about the hundred years he had mentioned. "Listen," I began, leaning in slightly, "I don’t have any money. Is there anything I can barter with to get some food and a place to sleep? Or maybe even some information on how to get out of this town? I really need to be on the move—fast."

The bartender’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—understanding, perhaps, or caution. "You look like you’ve traveled far," he said slowly, his gaze sweeping over me. "I’d be careful about what others might think."

I forced a smile. "Yes, I’ve been hearing that a lot." I try to sound casual.

"So," he said, leaning on the bar, "what are you doing in our parts?"

"I’m looking for someone," I replied quickly, the words spilling out before I could think them through. It sounded more purposeful than saying I was lost or searching for something, which might have marked me as a treasure hunter—an occupation that seemed like it could stir unwanted competition here, judging by the rough-looking crowd.

The bartender’s smile sharpened, a hint of something predatory in it. "In that case, what can you do?"

"I won’t barter with my body," I said firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. "But I can help you clean up, wash tables, serve your guests..."

He cut me off with a dismissive wave. "I don’t need help with that. If I did, do you think I wouldn’t already have it?"

"Of course," I said quickly, trying to smooth over my blunder. "I didn’t mean to insult you."

His eyes twinkled, a sign that my humble approach was working. "No insult taken," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. It was clear that my kindness was buying me more time to plead my case.