"You plan on leaving anytime soon?" Meyra asked, wiping the counter with a clean rag, the morning sun slipping through the windows and casting gold over the polished wood.
Rykarion leaned against the wall near the doorway, arms crossed, silver hair a little messy from sleep. "And leave you here all by yourself? Nah," he said with a lazy smirk. "Besides, I want to enjoy a little bit of quiet before I go on a rampage. By then, you'll all be packed and ready to follow me."
Meyra raised an eyebrow, not even pausing her work. "And what makes you think I'd be so willing to follow you then?"
Rykarion pushed off the wall with a chuckle, walking over slowly. His boots barely made a sound against the wooden floor. "Because you're curious. Because you want to see what's out there. And deep down," he said, tapping two fingers gently on the counter in front of her, "you know this place is too small for people like us."
She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing. "People like us?"
He nodded. "The kind that doesn't belong in quiet stories."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't heavy—it was waiting.
Meyra finally sighed and leaned the rag on her shoulder. "You really think we'll all just leave our lives behind to go chasing chaos with a dragon boy who can't sit still?"
Rykarion shrugged, grin widening. "Not all of you. But enough. And you—" he leaned forward just enough for his voice to drop lower, more personal, "—you won't be able to help yourself. Once it starts, you'll want to see how far it goes."
Meyra looked at him for a long second. Then scoffed and turned away, muttering, "Cocky bastard."
But she didn't say no.
He walked toward the door, stretching his arms behind his head as the morning wind slipped through the open shutters.
"You opening early today?" he asked.
"Market rush," she said over her shoulder. "If you're gonna hang around, make yourself useful. That broom's not just for decoration."
Rykarion laughed. "You're lucky I don't sweep with dragon fire."
"Try it and I'll stab you in your sleep."
He grinned. "Now that's love."
Outside, the town of Moonveil slowly came alive—carts rolling by, shopkeepers shouting morning greetings, and the far-off howl of a spirit beast deep in the woods.
Something was coming.
But for now… it was quiet.
And Rykarion had time.
The broom scraped softly across the wooden floor, Rykarion pretending to sweep while occasionally spinning it like a spear when Meyra wasn't looking. She was wiping down the windows now, sleeves rolled up, red hair tied in a loose knot behind her head.
"You're not even trying," she said without looking at him.
"I am. Just… in my own way."
"That's not how sweeping works."
"Says you."
Meyra shook her head, amused, as Rykarion leaned against the broom like it was a staff and stared toward the door. The soft clatter of hooves echoed outside, followed by the slow creak of the door opening.
The bell above it chimed once.
A woman stepped in.
Tall, graceful, and wrapped in dark violet robes that shimmered faintly like starlight caught in silk. A light veil covered the lower half of her face, leaving only her eyes visible—soft, deep, and strange. There was something about her presence, like she didn't walk in but floated through the world. Quiet. Controlled. Dangerous.
Rykarion stopped moving.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
Not in suspicion.
In awe.
"…Well, damn," he muttered under his breath.
Meyra looked up. "Hm?"
But he didn't answer. He was still staring.
The woman approached the counter, her steps making no sound on the floor. Her aura was sealed—completely—but that was the thing. Too sealed. Perfectly masked. Not even the floor creaked.
"I'm looking for a room," she said softly, voice smooth and low, but clear. "Just for the night."
Meyra straightened. "Of course. Single or shared?"
"Single. Quiet corner, if possible."
Rykarion tilted his head, eyes focusing. His dragon senses kicked in without him trying. Her veil—it wasn't real. A spirit illusion. High-level.
He saw through it.
And what he saw made his chest go still.
She was…
Beautiful didn't even cut it.
Her face was flawless, but not in a polished, fake way. It was the kind of beauty born from power, age, and mystery. Eyes that had probably seen things the world wasn't ready to speak of. Hair that shimmered dark like midnight ink. A faint mark—just a trace—glowing behind her ear. A seal of some kind. Old.
And the way she looked at the room… like she wasn't just checking into an inn, but measuring every wall, every soul.
Meyra was already writing down the room key, but Rykarion finally spoke up.
"...You travel often?"
The woman turned slightly to him. Her gaze lingered. She didn't answer immediately.
"Only when I have to," she said after a pause.
Rykarion nodded slowly, leaning on the broom again. "Well… if you're running from someone, they're definitely about to regret letting you go."
Meyra gave him a look. "Subtle."
"I didn't say she was running," the woman replied, turning her eyes back to him. "Why would you assume that?"
Rykarion grinned. "You're too calm. People with peace don't usually come all the way out here."
The room went quiet again. Not tense. Just… hanging.
Then the woman nodded once. "You're observant."
"You're… glowing," he said without thinking.
Meyra let out a soft sigh. "Gods help me."
The woman looked amused, just for a second. A flicker of a smile under the veil.
"You're not from this region," she said.
Rykarion shrugged. "Not from anywhere in particular."
She took her key from Meyra, then turned one last time to him.
"You should close your eyes more often," she said. "It's dangerous, seeing too clearly."
Then she walked upstairs.
Rykarion blinked.
Meyra raised an eyebrow. "You good?"
"...Yeah. Just… figuring out how someone can walk like that without causing earthquakes."
"You're not sweeping anymore."
"I'm re-evaluating life choices."
She chuckled, shaking her head as she went back to work. But behind her, Rykarion stood still for another moment, staring at the stairs.
Who was she?
And why did it feel like his story just cracked open again?
He didn't know her name.
But something told him…
He would.
Soon.