Chapter 50
Written by Bayzo Albion
"Ah, family bliss at its finest," my doppelgänger mumbled through a mouthful of bread and cheese. "Women feasting on dragon tenderloin, men nibbling salads. Balance, harmony, equality... just like in the fairy tales."
"If you crave dragon steak, bring me a dragon first," Siesta replied softly, her knife clinking delicately against her plate like a subtle warning.
Iris leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear as she whispered conspiratorially, "If the 'salads' get too dull, just say the word. I've got a spice that makes even bread taste like prime cut—crispy and all."
"Uh-huh," I nodded, chuckling. "As long as it doesn't make the table decide to teleport away on its own."
The girls shared a smile, their laughter light and melodic. The hearth fire stirred, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. For a fleeting second, I imagined our "children" out there somewhere, gathered around their own tables, feeling that same enveloping warmth— a connection that transcended distance and time.
"How's progress on your ventures?" Siesta asked with genuine concern, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and tilting her head slightly, her eyes soft with empathy.
"Slow but steady," I replied, idly rotating my mug in my hands, feeling the cool condensation against my palms. "We're on the right track."
"And where exactly are you headed? If it's not a secret?" she pressed, her smile gentle but her gaze sharp, probing like a scholar unraveling a mystery.
"To the pinnacle of greatness!" my doppelgänger proclaimed grandly, thrusting an index finger skyward... only for a dollop of sauce to drip right onto the tablecloth, staining it with a wet splat.
"And what do you hope to find at this pinnacle?" came a melodic yet cool voice from the doorway.
We both turned. There stood the Forest Queen, her white hair cascading like a river of moonlight over her shoulders, catching the hearth's glow in shimmering highlights. With a fluid grace, she entered and seated herself at the table as if claiming a throne.
"The summit itself is the prize," I countered, holding her gaze steadily, feeling a spark of challenge in the air.
"Summits are always lonely places," she observed, her words laced with implication.
"If loneliness is the cost of greatness," I smiled back, "then it's a bargain."
She interlaced her fingers, resting her chin on them dramatically, like an audience awaiting a bard's epic tale. "Then share with us your past life. Even just a glimpse."
"What, regale you with the epic saga of my treks from bed to fridge?" I leaned back in my chair, drawing out the pause for effect. "My kitchen odyssey was fraught with peril... Each time I swung open that fridge door, I prayed for treasures untold. But no—instead, third-rate leftovers and milk that had seen better days, its expiration date a mocking whisper from the past."
My doppelgänger stifled a snort, clearly enjoying the show.
"Day after day, year after year..." I swept my gaze around the rapt listeners, building the drama. "You know the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. Words from a wise madman."
The Forest Queen's eyebrow arched slightly, and the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.
"How long did this... grand odyssey endure?"
"Until I was twenty-two." I exhaled like a battle-scarred vet describing a siege. "Then it hit me: if the mountain won't come to Mohammed, Mohammed goes… to the grocery store."
lShe closed her eyes for a moment, as if weighing whether to laugh or deliver judgment.
"You know," she said at last, her tone laced with subtle admiration, "your 'saga' is more honest than the tales of many warriors I've known. They chased peaks too, but admitting it was all for a crust of bread? That took courage they lacked."
"So, am I the hero of honesty?" I asked, straight-faced.
"No," she replied with a hint of sarcasm, "just a starving wanderer with oversized dreams." She leaned forward, her curiosity igniting like a cold flame in her eyes. "What came next?"
"Then I left my home and ventured to a foreign land. No language skills, no friends, not even a clue what awaited. I was twenty-two, and that leap kicked off the hardest chapter of my life. From twenty-two to twenty-three..." I smirked wryly, but the memory stirred a deep-seated weariness. "It felt like pure hell."
Every day was a grind, laboring like a beast of burden just to scrape together enough for food and shelter. The alien tongue buzzed around me like an impenetrable fog; the unfamiliar customs made me feel like a blind intruder in a world of shadows. Loneliness clung like a damp chill, seeping into my bones, while exhaustion pressed down like a slab of stone on my shoulders. It was as if the universe itself conspired to test my breaking point, pushing me to the edge of surrender.
"You went through the wringer..." Iris murmured softly, her brow furrowing in sympathy, a flicker of shared pain in her eyes.
"Yeah," I nodded, the weight of those years settling over me like a familiar shroud. "I matured the hard way—slow, agonizing. Waded through the inferno of everyday drudgery to emerge as... just an average guy. Middle-of-the-road, if you will. All I craved was stability and peace—a life free from endless upheaval."
"And did you achieve it?" the Forest Queen's question held an almost childlike directness, cutting through the air.
"It all hinged on the fourth wall," I replied with a crooked grin, leaving the metaphor to hang mysteriously.
"Intriguing..." She swirled her goblet, watching the wine catch the firelight in ruby glints. "But it was fascinating to hear your story. Sometimes, the most 'ordinary' lives reveal extraordinary depths."
She took a sip, paused, then added with a barely audible chuckle, "Especially the fridge part." Her lips curved into a smile that blended mockery with genuine respect, softening her regal demeanor.
Laughter erupted around the room, warm and infectious, chasing away the shadows of my recollections. In that instant, a quiet revelation bloomed within me: Maybe this "summit" wasn't some distant peak beyond mountains and horizons. Perhaps it was right here—at this table, surrounded by these people who made the world feel less vast and unforgiving. In their company, even the loftiest heights didn't seem so isolated.
The conversation tapered off naturally, and we finished our meal in a comfortable rhythm, broken only by the elegant clink of silverware—like a refined dialogue conducted in metallic whispers. When the plates were cleared, we each retired for the night. Though "rest" was a loose term; my sleep, as usual, was interspersed with moments that needed no explicit detailing—let's just say my companions viewed the hours of darkness as another opportunity for shared intimacy, their touches lingering like echoes of the day's warmth.
– – –
The dawn broke with pale, hesitant rays that clawed their way through the thick canopy overhead, casting a muted glow over the forest floor. I stretched my limbs, feeling the faint ache from yesterday's wanderings, the damp earth cool beneath my boots.
"Aren't you tired of this endless loop?" my double drawled, lounging against a gnarled tree trunk as he idly tossed a small pebble into the air, catching it with effortless precision. His voice echoed in my mind like an unwelcome echo, always probing, always mocking. "Day after day, the same damn routine..."
"You're the one I'm tired of, with your endless stupid questions," I snapped back, adjusting the belt of my sword sheath. The leather creaked softly under my fingers, a familiar sound that grounded me in this surreal world.
He shrugged philosophically, spreading his hands wide as if addressing an invisible audience. "What can I say? Even in paradise, the human mind spins like a squirrel in a wheel—restless, never satisfied."
A sudden thought struck me like a stray arrow, piercing through the haze of routine. "Why is it we never encounter monsters during the day?"
My double frowned, snapping his fingers thoughtfully, the sharp click cutting through the stillness. "Maybe the Forest Queen purges her domain of beasts when the sun's up. Keeps things tidy for her little guests."
I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony, a bitter edge creeping into my laughter. "Luck like that can be a curse in disguise. It's like being gifted a fur coat in the middle of a scorching desert—useless, and a burden to boot."
The forest around us felt unnaturally serene, the kind of quiet that presses in on you, making your skin prickle with unease. No rustle of leaves from scampering creatures, no distant calls of birds that usually filled the air with their ceaseless chatter. It was as if nature itself had paused, holding its breath, watching our every move with invisible eyes. The trees loomed taller than usual, their branches intertwining like conspirators whispering secrets just out of earshot. I wondered, in that creeping silence, what lurked beneath this facade of idyllic peace. When would the mask slip, revealing the true, twisted face of this bizarre haven?
Ahead, the familiar path wound its way into the verdant depths, twisting like a serpent through the underbrush. Yet today, it felt alien, as if it led not to the usual landmarks but into some uncharted territory of the unknown. My boots sank slightly into the soft soil with each step, the ground yielding like a reluctant accomplice.