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Xavier's POV
"When you're ready, we'll leave for Thyrelith," Nathan said as he stood, voice calm but carrying that usual weight of quiet command.
We all nodded. For once, I was actually surprised — Nathan wasn't barking orders or setting some impossible deadline. He was giving us time. Freedom, even. Which was suspicious, because this man giving us choices? That's like seeing the sun rise from the west. Still, I wasn't going to question it. Never poke a resting dragon.
The dining hall smelled of roasted vegetables and herbs. The candlelight flickered against the wooden beams, making the place feel warm and calm. Across from me, Elisha sat at the table, using his chopsticks to poke at the vegetables on his plate — the ones Nathan had traded him for his pork earlier. His lips were pursed, his expression somewhere between disgust and despair.
I leaned forward, sipping water from a wooden cup. "You know, as long as you get better soon, you can eat meat again. Didn't the woman say to avoid oily food to heal faster?"
Elisha shot me a flat stare, picked up a green pea with his chopsticks, and stuffed it into my mouth. "Then why don't you imagine eating this with nothing to accompany it?"
I chewed. Slowly. Painfully. Then said, "Sorry, Eli, but I can't imagine eating that… it's disgusting."
"Disgusting?" Paige's voice chimed in as she slid into a seat beside us, her tone half scolding, half amused. "Elisha, don't tell me you're still being picky, and Xavier—what on earth are you saying?"
Before I could answer, Darcelle didn't even look up from her plate. "Nonsense. Nothing reasonable as usual."
Elisha chuckled. Paige giggled.
And me? I sighed dramatically. "Unbelievable. Betrayed by my own party."
They laughed harder.
"I'll just go," I muttered, standing up with mock dignity, "to a place where my genius is appreciated."
Eli called, "Xav, wait—"
I ignored him and marched up the creaky stairs. The inn's air was faintly sweet, carrying hints of old wood and warm bread. I reached the third floor, turned left, then right… and then… stopped.
A strange silence filled the corridor. Only the candle flames swayed slightly in their sconces, casting golden ripples over the floorboards.
That's when I realized something terrible.
I had absolutely no idea where my room was.
I froze, stared at both ends of the hallway, then lifted my hands dramatically toward the ceiling.
"Oh great gods above," I said, "I know I have no sense of direction, but this inn is clearly a labyrinth designed by demons. I can't even find my room! Please, end my suffering and guide me to salvation!"
A voice behind me said dryly, "Isn't your room the sixth door to your right?"
I gasped. "Wait… the gods answered me?! Where's the thunder, the divine glow—"
Smack.
Something tapped my head. Hard.
I turned around and found Nathan standing there, expression flat as a calm sea. "Of course there's no thunder. Your room's next to mine, you incomplete fool."
Ow. That insult had weight.
"Did you just call me incomplete?" I muttered, hand on my chest in fake pain.
Nathan ignored me and walked toward his door. "I don't understand how you and Elisha can get lost in this place. Do you have no sense of direction?"
"Well," I admitted, "actually… no."
He sighed like a disappointed teacher. "Maybe you really are a five-year-old in disguise."
He walked off, but I wasn't done. I ran up beside him. "Hey, what about that kid who brought us here? Have you seen him since?"
Nathan paused at his door, looking up the four dark floors above. "No," he said quietly. "Which is strange. He said he lived here. And where is his patron?"
I frowned. "Eh...? Okay, okay, stop with the detective mode. My brain's about to turn blank."
Nathan didn't even flinch. "Turn blank? It's already blank."
Then he stepped into his room and slammed the door in my face.
I stood there, blinking. "…Did he just insult my brain twice in one conversation?"
Still, I couldn't help grinning. This was the longest conversation I'd ever had with Nathan. A personal record. The others had to know about this!
I turned dramatically toward the stairs—
…and immediately realized I was lost again.
"This place is cursed," I muttered, staring at endless corridors. "This isn't an inn, it's a prison."
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Evening
By dinner, I had been rescued — again. A kind maid found me wandering the second floor like a lost soul and led me back downstairs. I swear, she had angelic patience.
The five of us sat around the table again, a soft orange glow from the fireplace bathing the room in warmth. Outside, night pressed against the windows, and the wind whispered faintly through the cracks.
Elisha lifted his head. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely to the innkeeper, "the boy who brought us here — where is he? We'd like to thank him. And also the patron who owns this place."
The woman froze. For a brief second, her ladle stopped mid-air. Surprise flashed across her face — then vanished.
Nathan's tone was gentle but firm. "Is there a problem? We just want to thank them both. It's rare to find an inn this deep in the wilderness."
Her fingers tightened around the ladle's handle. The pot clinked softly.
Then Darcelle's voice cut through the room, calm but sharp. "Was this inn built before the disappearance of Goddess Mei… or after?"
I blinked, confused. "Wait, what does that have to do with anything?"
The woman's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her eyes flicked to the stairway leading up to the higher floors.
Paige noticed. "Madam?" she asked softly.
The woman finally smiled — but it was thin and uneasy. "Eat well," she said. "You'll need your strength before morning."
Then she turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor until they disappeared.
A long silence followed. The only sound was the crackling fire.
Nathan's gaze stayed fixed on the hallway. "Before morning?" he murmured under his breath.
A chill crept up my spine. "Okay, seriously, does anyone else feel like she just threatened us politely?"
Elisha didn't answer. He was staring at the ceiling, his sea-blue eyes distant. Paige's hand tightened around her spoon, her motherly calm giving way to unease.
"It's like she was warning us," she whispered.
No one spoke after that. The laughter, the warmth — it was gone.
The candles flickered violently, shadows stretching long across the walls. Somewhere upstairs, a door creaked open on its own.
The air grew colder.
I swallowed hard, my earlier grin completely gone.
"Guys…" I said softly, "this inn is officially haunted."
No one disagreed.
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Later That Night
Sleep wouldn't come easily. The wind outside howled like something alive. Every creak in the floorboards made me flinch.
I turned on my side, pulling the blanket tighter. My room was dimly lit by a single lantern, its flame fluttering as if disturbed by an unseen breath.
"Goddess Lyra," I muttered into the dark, "I know you're the goddess of justice, right? If you're watching, maybe... do something about evil spirits or demons so they won't kill us here or on our way to the temple and the tomb... Please?"
The silence stretched. Then… I thought I heard a faint laugh.
Soft. Echoing. Almost teasing.
I froze. "...That wasn't funny."
The flame flickered again.
And somewhere beyond the walls — very faintly — came the sound of footsteps that didn't belong to any of us.
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Goddess of Justice: Lyra, The Veilbearer of Truth
They say she watches from the shadow between night and dawn, where justice has no color and truth has no mercy.
Her symbol is the silver scale balanced by unseen hands — a reminder that every lie carries its own weight.
Few call upon her name lightly, for Lyra does not answer prayers… she answers guilt.
That night, I really hoped she wasn't listening too closely.
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