The mournful, eerie cry of unknown being in the distance faded. Silence returned as Nyx trembled. That cry come out of nowhere, wakes him up, terrorize him for one good minute. It was like standing face to face with the death, move an inch and he felt like he'll be beheaded. The gods in heaven, only they knew how chaotic and oppressive his emotions at that moment.
"Fuck! Was what that?!" He exclaimed but not too loud, afraid that he'll attract the unknown being's attention. His Treasure Eyes scanned the city frantically, looking for a sign of danger. Luckily, he found nothing that threatening, only dozen or so weak glow of Phantasms, his fear never came true.
Free of tension, he walked back to his bed and lay down. Moments later, he closed his eyes, and his stomach growled. A sharp, human need in this inhuman place.
How long had it been?
He had no idea.
From the time he came home from overtime, going through a fight with Phantasm, and sleeping for hours because of tiredness and faded adrenaline, not once did he fill his mouth with something.
He knows he couldn't stay hidden forever.
Do that and he'll starved to death.
He stood, his body protesting. He approached the window again, peering through a grimy corner of the glass.
The labyrinth of rooftops stretched out below. His Treasure Eyes scanned the view, looking for a place to loot.
He needed supplies to survive.
Water. Food. More of those Vital Tears.
Want it or well... mostly not want it, he was a Tainted now. A poor soul in the Night Realm, the kingdom of nightmares. And he needs to survive and live like a Tainted should, by killing and looting in this hell.
He unbarred the door and slipped back into the hallway. The silence was so alien to him, something he wasn't used to, slowly pushing him to the edge.
The bolted lobby door was still shut. No signs of entry.
He slipped the bolt and stepped back into the street. The air was colder than he remembered. The red eye pattern of the white moon seemed brighter.
He stuck to the walls, taking cover in shadows, moving with silent steps. Another thing he not used to. His eyes constantly scanned the landscape, searching for that tell-tale glow, a sign of danger.
An alley to his left caught his attention. A faint, pulsing light, the color of a warm orange. He stopped, his body tensed.
Is that a Phantasm? He thought.
The hand that hold the hatchet clenched, ready for a fight if needed. However, as he continued to observe the light, he realized it did not come from Phantasm. It was a treasure, in the open, just like that scary bell.
He crept closer with caution.
The glow came from a small, discolored music box, sitting on a pile of trash bags. Its lid was slightly open.
As he focused, a sudden instinctual knowledge filled his mind. It told him that the treasure is free of curses. A new perks from the Treasure Eyes.
Constantly be used, and without he realize it, his abilities growed. He was surprised and he was happy about this.
Know that the treasure's safe, he touch it.
• Ballerina's Lullaby •
[Plays a melody that lulls the weak-willed into a stupor. Attracts the attention of the strong. Uses: 2/2. Recharge 1 use every 24 hours.]
A trap... or a tool. The line was blurry here.
In the end, he didn't take it, the risk was too great.
He moved on.
His search for food in abandoned restaurants, mini markets, or apartments yield nothing. When he found water, it was too dirty, mixed with soil, blood, or pus. Sometimes, he could see a maggot-like creature swimming in it. For food, everything he found in buildings or vending machines had rotted.
With nothing gained, he trace the alleys and streets again, turning a corner onto a broader avenue. And there, he saw another glow. A fresh, welcoming gold.
It came from a small, park-like square. A dead fountain stood abandoned. And on its center, at the lap of an angel statue, sat a simple wooden cup, brimming with clear, shimmering water.
His mouth watered. His whole body screamed for it.
He take a step forward, then froze.
A figure sat on the rim of the fountain, shrouded in mist, black wings on its back. It hadn't been there a second ago!
It was humanoid, wrapped in a tattered, blood stained grey cloak. He couldn't made out his face, but its eyes was crystal clear. It simply watched him through its amethyst cold eyes. It made no move.
No glow came from it. No treasure. No primal essence.
It was just… there. Existed.
Nyx's grip tightened on the hatchet. This was so wrong. Unexplained fear bind his mind, strangling it tight with an intent to suffocate it.
Instinctively, knew he would be turned into madman if he stayed any longer.
The figure tilted its head. A low, rasping whisper reached Nyx's ears, carried on the still air.
"Thirsty?"
The voice was dry as dust. It held no malice. No warmth. Just a simple question. But it terrified Nyx nonetheless.
He took a step back.
The figure on the bench didn't move. It just continued its silent vigil over the miraculous cup, no longer cared about Nyx who stepped out of its boundary.
This was the true nature of the Night Realm. The treasures were real but the cost to obtain it was never listed. You had to discover it yourself. Often when it was too late.
Nyx turned and walked away. His throat was parched but he was still alive.
He would find water another way, harder perhaps, but safer way to obtain what he needs.
—§—
For hours, thirst and hunger torment Nyx. A raw scrape in his throat, a dull ache in his gut. He moved through the ruins of buildings yet again, his eyes scanning for anything safe to consume but found nothing.
Back on the street, a flicker of blue light ahead caught his attention. Not the glow of treasure. This was a warm, steady ordinary glow of light.
He rounded a corner of a broken wall and stepped into an alley.
A small, wooden cart stood in the left side of the alley way. Lanterns hung from its corners, balls of blue fire—most likely the will-o'-wisps—surround it, casting a pool of bright light. Behind it, a figure stood, shrouded in an old, faded moss-green robe. Its face was a void of shadow beneath the hood. Its hands, resting on the cart were wrapped in brown, old gloves.
The cart overflow with bizarre merchandise. Jars of unidentifiable things. Antique armors and weapons. Strange trinkets. And, sitting neatly on a wooden box, were various food and drink. Packs of ham and egg sandwiches and bottles of mineral water draw Nyx's attention.
His Treasure Eyes confirmed that a few of the merchandise is treasures. They will increase the chances of his survival. At the same time, he understood that they would not be cheap.
As for the mysterious keeper. No glow of treasure. No Primal Essence. Its not a Phantasm, more likely same as the winged figure in the small square.
"Welcome," a voice said. It was a soft, melodic hum, impossible to place as male or female. "You look like a man in need of a trade."
Nyx tightened his grip on the hatchet. "What are you?"
"A merchant, a trader, your friendly neighborhood shopkeeper. You may call me the Merchant. And you are?" The shadowed hood tilted.
The Librarian's warning flashed in his mind. Never give your true name.
"Tear," Nyx said, the alias feeling strange on his tongue.
"A unusual name," the Merchant hummed, not missing a beat. "Short. Memorable. Full of feeling."
The Merchant gestured a wrapped hand over its wares. "I provide. For the right price. I deal in the loot the Tainted gathered and needed. Shards of Memory are my preferred currency but I also accept barter."
Nyx's eyes locked on the food and water. "How much?"
"For a newcomer, I would suggest the starter's kit," the Merchant said, producing a rolled-up parchment and a small, leather-bound book. "A map of the local streets and a guidebook. It will save your life."
Nyx glanced at them. The map seemed to writhe slightly. The book's cover was blank. They probably were invaluable. But his funds were to pitiful to afford them. So he shake his head.
"How much for the sandwiches and the mineral water?"
"Two Shards for a pack of food. One Shard for a bottle of drink."
Nyx did a simple math. He had twelve Shards. He needed to save some. For the Librarian. For emergencies.
"Two sandwiches. Three waters." He pulled seven Shards from his pocket.
"A practical choice," the Merchant hummed, sounding neither pleased nor disappointed. It swept the Shards into a small coffer. "The knowledge can wait. Sustenance cannot."
Nyx grabbed the items then sit down on stairs of an ruined bar exit. He tore open a pack of sandwich, smelled it to make sure it was still good, and then he took a huge bite. It was real. Perfectly normal food. The water was cool and clean. It was the most joyous relief he had ever felt.
"Tasty isn't it? Nothing beats the food from the Day Realm."
The jargon "Day Realm" stimulate Nyx curiosity almost instantly. His mouth moves unconsciously, "the Day Realm?"
"That's the place where you came from isn't? When the sun is high in the sky," The merchant explained indifferently.
Nyx jumped to his feet. The merchant's statement was too shocking. He approached him and asked another question. "When does the sun rise?"
"It's eleven days away. Why are you asking such a common thing? Oh... right, you're new here."
"Eleven days," Nyx whispered, he couldn't believe he had to wait that long to get out of this hell.
"Consider this information free of charge. If you want more, you need to buy the guidebook."