He descended the inn's stairs and entered the restaurant, his gaze slightly lost, as if each step cost him an effort.It was around noon. Tharion, his eyes staring into the void, was replaying what had happened, his thoughts looping like familiar shadows. Beside him, Thalen remained silent, motionless, his eyes attentive but mute, as if weighing every word before it was even spoken. The tick-tock of an invisible clock seemed to fill the room, pacing Tharion's hesitation and Thalen's heavy calm.
Tharion sat there, lost in thought, staring into nothingness, while his mind mercilessly revisited all his flaws, one by one. It wasn't just fatigue or the morning light playing across his eyes: these imperfections hadn't been there before. Buildings had cracks he had never seen, street signs were slightly bent, doors that were normally closed were ajar… and the silence was punctuated by oddly misplaced sounds, a splashing here, a creak there, which didn't match the city's usual rhythm.
Thalen sensed the change in the air around Tharion and instinctively moved closer, his wings trembling slightly. He didn't understand what was happening, but he felt the tension in the other's posture, the heightened attention, almost worry.
— Tharion? he murmured again.— It's… nothing, Tharion finally replied, though his voice betrayed a slight hesitation.— I… I just feel like… something's changed here. Not much… just details… that I know.
They continued walking. Thalen watched every movement, every breath, but this time with a thin veil of concern. The imperfections multiplied: a half-fallen wooden barrier, displaced cobblestones, a lamp post leaning at an improbable angle. Nothing catastrophic, nothing dangerous… but enough for Tharion to frown, his eyes scanning every detail.
— This street… said Tharion, his voice low, almost to himself.— It shouldn't be like this. I've walked here… so many times.
The owl nodded timidly, understanding that it wasn't just a state of mind. The city they both knew so well was beginning to show flaws, cracks in what they believed immutable. Thalen felt a slight shiver run through his feathers, a mixture of curiosity and nervousness.
Tharion stopped for a moment, his eyes tracing the cracked road beneath their feet. He leaned slightly, touching the cobblestone with his fingertips, as if to confirm what he saw.
— It's… strange, he murmured.— Too strange to be normal.
Thalen stayed by his side, motionless, his feathers slightly bristled, saying nothing. He understood this was no moment for lightness or distraction. He felt that something in this city had begun to change… and that they might not yet grasp the full extent.
They resumed walking, more slowly this time, their steps measured. The cool wind passed through the alleys, and every sound — the rustle of leaves, the clinking of a sign, the creak of a cobblestone — seemed sharper, more significant. The city, familiar and safe until now, was revealing its small imperfections, fragile yet telling.
And Thalen, still fragile and weary, realized this stroll was no longer just a moment of calm. It was the beginning of something broader… something that could change what he believed he knew about the world around him.
The wind swept through the silent streets, lifting dead leaves and brushing against Thalen's feathers. A shiver ran through his body, but it wasn't excitement: just a reminder of his fragility. He slowly spread his wings, hesitating, and rose a few meters above the ground. The world stretched beneath him, vast and familiar, yet everything felt heavy, as if the city itself bore an invisible fatigue.
Tharion looked up at him, silent, but the weight of his attention was palpable. Thalen did not respond. His golden eyes remained fixed on the ground, on the streets and buildings he knew, and he couldn't prevent a small shiver of fear and melancholy. Everything seemed slightly… different.
The road they had taken yesterday was no longer smooth. Deep cracks gouged the ground, missing cobblestones betrayed shoddy repairs, and some buildings bore subtle deformations. Thalen felt a pinch in his chest: he knew this place, had traversed it hundreds of times, and yet everything seemed to crumble before his eyes. He slowly lowered his head, letting his wings fall, barely floating to land on a branch. His feathers remained ruffled, talons clenched. The wind slipped through his plumage, giving him a cold shiver, but there was no thrill of delight. Just the cold sensation of existence.
— Tharion… he murmured, almost to himself.— It's… different…— Yes… said Tharion softly, his face serious.— Everything is a bit broken. I see it too.
Thalen didn't respond. He stayed there, motionless, eyes fixed on the crack stretching across the road below him. He felt the weight of fatigue pressing down like a tangible burden. Even flying brought no relief. The city, the wind, the morning light… nothing could lighten the emptiness within him.
He curled slightly, letting his wings drop against his body. The city's imperfections multiplied: twisted lampposts, leaning signs, doors ajar that should not be. Thalen saw them all but felt only the echo of loss, a memory of what should have been stable and safe.
— I… I see… he murmured, voice trembling, barely audible.— Everything… everything is broken…
Tharion approached gently, silently, saying nothing. He understood. He felt Thalen's fatigue, sadness, and resignation. Despite the fragility, he stayed there, offering silent presence.
Thalen blinked slowly, staring at the cracked ground and crooked buildings. He felt every step, every creak of cobblestone, every gust of wind in his feathers. He was still alive, still aware… but weighed down, immobile, crushed by the city, by himself, by everything.
And he stayed there, on his branch, fragile and depressed, observing the city as if every crack and flaw reminded him of his own loneliness and exhaustion.
Thalen frowned, his heart slightly tight.— But… this city has always been like this…? he murmured, troubled.
Tharion walked through the narrow streets, his steps echoing on the wet cobblestones. The lamplight cast trembling shadows, dancing on the crumbling walls. He noticed a man in the distance, walking in the same direction as him, back straight, silent, like a silhouette cut out of the darkness. Nothing particularly distinguished him, but there was something strangely familiar about his gait.
Tharion continued his path, trying not to think, but around a corner, the man was there again. This time Tharion noticed the almost imperceptible detail of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes, and how his jacket fluttered slightly in the wind. His heart beat a little faster, but he shook his head, convincing himself it was just a coincidence.
A few streets later, he crossed the same figure again. The man walked exactly the same way, undisturbed, as if following a secret rhythm only he could hear. Tharion felt a shiver climb his spine. The city suddenly felt quieter, the usual sounds muffled, as if the world was holding its breath.
Then, again, at an intersection, Tharion saw him for the fourth time. The same man, exactly in the same spot relative to him, continuing on without slowing, without noticing him. And each time their gazes seemed to meet in the darkness, there was only absolute indifference, as if Tharion didn't exist.
Finally, the man disappeared into the mist at the end of the street, walking straight ahead, unperturbed as if nothing had happened. And Tharion stood there, frozen, heart heavy, mind alert, unable to understand whether he had merely crossed a passerby… or something else, unsettling, that he could not name.
Tharion walked calmly, the sun warming his skin and the gentle heat of an almost perfect day on his shoulders. Everything seemed normal after the experience he had lived through, almost peaceful, and he thought this walk would be simple, uneventful.
Yet, around a street lined with old buildings, a discreet shiver ran up his neck. Above him, Thalen hovered in the sky, wings cutting through the air. He watched the city from above, and suddenly a dense, icy fog rose as if by magic, seeping between the streets, enveloping the cobblestones and façades in a gray veil. The contrast was striking: on one side, the sun still timidly shone; on the other, the fog imposed an almost oppressive silence, muffling the world's sounds.
At that same moment, Tharion saw another figure… exactly the one he had crossed at the library. The man walked slowly, as if floating over the cobblestones, indifferent to the sun and warmth. His features seemed strangely familiar yet blurred, as if the memory of the encounter mingled with a dream. Every step of the man echoed in the air, like a resonance from a place he should never have revisited.
Tharion stopped abruptly, heart racing, while the sun competed for space around him. The man continued, impassive, gradually disappearing into the mysterious veil. And Tharion remained, caught between the wonder of a beautiful day and the unease of encountering again someone he thought he had left behind in the past.
But… what's happening? Is this normal? Tharion thought as the man walked away. His heart beat faster, and a wave of confusion swept over him.
Thalen slowly descended onto Tharion's shoulder.
As he landed, a memory struck him like lightning. He remembered standing in front of a colorful poster on the town square wall: a knight in shining armor, raising a sword to the sky, with the words written in golden letters: Join the ranks of the Knights of the Crown! Courage, loyalty, and honor await you. Thalen remembered the mix of admiration and fear he had felt at that moment. He recalled how his eyes had remained fixed on the knight's helmet, the polished armor details, the engraved symbols, the small crest glinting in the sun.
This memory gave him a strange sensation, as if this city and the mission of the knight were part of his destiny. His feathers shivered slightly, and he turned his attention back to Tharion, wondering if he too felt this mix of nostalgia and curiosity.
The light breeze rustled his wings as he placed his talons on Tharion's shoulder, ready to follow this path that, despite the confusion, seemed filled with promise. Thalen shook his feathers lightly to dispel the strange sensation, then looked at Tharion. His eyes shone with a glimmer of determination, but also a need for distraction.
— So… he began, his voice betraying a mix of hope and uncertainty. Could we… maybe… join the Knights? Just… to take my mind off things a little.
He looked around, as if to make sure the city seemed calm and welcoming.—I mean… I've wanted to move, to do something tangible, for a long time. And… he paused, beak slightly open, thoughtful. …maybe it could help me forget these memories that keep running through my head.
His talons brushed lightly against Tharion's shoulder, an almost instinctive gesture seeking support.— Do you think… we could do it? Go sign up… and see if it helps us?
He smiled faintly, trying to mask his nervousness behind a facade of curiosity and courage. The wind played with his feathers, highlighting the contrast between his excitement for adventure and the tension lingering from the haunting memory.
Tharion barely furrowed his brow, a cold shiver running down his neck. Inside, his heart tightened as if an old weight had been placed upon it. He breathed slowly, trying to keep his face impassive, but every word from Thalen resonated painfully in his memory. Blurry images, battles, failures, lost faces, cries in the night… everything returned in an instant.
He felt a shiver run down his spine.
…The knights, huh… His voice was low, controlled, but every word vibrated with contained tension. He averted his gaze slightly, scanning the circular city below, as if to cling to something tangible and not let his memories engulf him. His hands clenched slightly on his knees, an almost imperceptible movement, and his jaw tensed for a moment. He inhaled deeply, feeling his stomach knot, but his voice remained calm:
— Thalen… you know… it's not just a title or an adventure. It requires courage… and… sometimes… choices you can't take back. Choices… that…
He left the sentence hanging, unable to finish, his dark eyes blinking under the weight of memories.
Thalen blinked, his large brown eyes attentive, catching the shadow of tension in Tharion's body, but interpreting it as natural caution. He tilted his head again, an instinctive owl movement, silent and curious.
Tharion remained silent for a moment, breathing slowly to chase away the dizziness of the past. His fingers loosened slightly, but a faint tremor betrayed his inner unease. The city continued to sparkle below, majestic and alive, but to Tharion it seemed distant, almost foreign.
He knew he couldn't prevent Thalen from following his desires, and this idea… this reminder of lost freedom and youth… hurt him as much as it worried him. He inhaled again, eyes fixed on an indistinct point in the sky, face still closed, impassive… but behind this mask, pain and disagreement simmered silently yet intensely.
Tharion revealed nothing. His face remained impassive, eyes calm, almost distant. Not a flicker, not a sign of agitation.
— "Yes… that's fine with me," he replied in a cold, sharp, almost distant tone.
Thalen, absorbed by his own emotions and the weight of memories, noticed nothing. He took Tharion's words as simple approval, not perceiving the intensity contained behind the calm exterior.
Tharion and Thalen began to walk through the city streets. The circular cobblestones echoed under their feet, stone houses softly gleaming in the morning sun. Every alley seemed to tell a story, and Thalen, a bit distracted but curious, marveled at each detail.
— "Look! Did you see the craftsmanship on this ironwork? And there, these stained-glass windows… they're almost perfect!" he exclaimed, eyes bright with fascination.
Tharion nodded, his gaze calm but attentive. He revealed nothing, but his eyes scrutinized more finely than Thalen's. Beneath the flawless façade, he noticed minor cracks in some walls, a slightly sunken cobblestone in a side alley, even a tilted stained glass window. Insignificant details to Thalen, but for Tharion, signs that the city wasn't as perfect as it seemed.
He cast a discreet glance at a small square they had just passed, frowning slightly.— "I was here yesterday… and that wasn't here, right?" he murmured, more to himself than to Thalen.
They passed shops where artisans worked with metal and wood, and balconies adorned with hanging gardens, perfuming the air with unknown flowers.
By late afternoon, as shadows lengthened across the cobblestones, paced by walking, light chatter, and Thalen's small bursts of wonder, Tharion continued to observe silently, attentive to the slightest imperfection.
Everything seemed peaceful, almost hypnotic, but this tranquility was deceptive. Then, a sharp sound, charged with anger, cut through the air…