*Welcome! The early chapters are fast-paced, but the story slows down a lot in the later chapters. This story is a slow-burn, progression fantasy and some chapters will have a different POV. If you dislike slow-burn stories, this might not be for you.
Tyrus navigated through the cobbled streets, pushing through crowds as the freezing air stung his lungs. The struggle against the mass of people was exhausting, but he kept going and eventually made it through. Gasping for breath, he glanced back and observed two figures approaching rapidly. Tyrus pushed a stale stick of bread further up his tunic and continued sprinting.
He dodged between wagons and carriages, earning shouts and curses from red-faced men. Tyrus paid no attention to their words and fled, motivated by the fear of being caught. After skillfully evading the dangerous wheels and hooves, he returned unscathed to the buzzing sidewalk full of people and stores.
An aroma of sizzling meat and fresh loaves permeated the air. Tyrus’ belly rumbled, as though rebelling against the exertion. When he glanced over his shoulder, looking for his pursuers, he noticed they were closer than ever, shoving through the crowd with no remorse. One of them was a broad-shouldered man with a beard as bushy as a lesser hound’s fur. Another was skinny yet clean-shaven, with a black cap that obscured his eyes. Tyrus sucked in his breath and increased his pace.
He escaped the bustling marketplace and entered the residential area. He was close to the hideout. The outskirts were accessible through a small alley at the end of a large wood building. As long as he made it there on time, he’d lose his pursuers.
As he rounded the corner, he collided with a moving shadow. Tyrus smushed his nose and yelped as he fell onto the ground, his hat sliding off his head. With rapid movements, he approached his garment and forced it on, wishing his appearance had not been revealed. He briefly lifted his eyes to the person standing before him.
The figure had a black cloak draped along their rigid frame. Their hood obscured half of their face, but Tyrus glimpsed a small scar on their cheek. What stood out the most was the familiar atmosphere they projected. A familiar scent caught his attention, but he couldn't quite remember where he'd smelled it before. The figure extended their hand, causing Tyrus to jerk and abruptly stand up.
“Pardon me...”
He didn't wait for a response, instead he dashed past and refused to look back. Just up ahead was a short wall that even a child could hop over. Tyrus effortlessly jumped over the wall, landed on the soft dirt, and sprinted away. Outside of the town lay a small forest bustling with beasts. At a remote location, there was a small shack where he had been dwelling for some time. It was far enough to not get spotted, yet near a settlement, making it easy for him to acquire resources if necessary.
While Tyrus was nearing the forest's outskirts, he heard whistling from behind. His instincts kicked in, and he ducked his body as low as he could. Mere moments later, a small blast of red light veered past him, hitting a tree. Shortly thereafter, the tree was set ablaze, and the flames elegantly moved across the bark, ultimately engulfing the entire tree in flames. Tyrus gaped at it in awe.
“Where do you think you’re going, runt?”
A powerful hand gripped his collar and lifted him off the ground. Glancing behind him, there stood the broad-shouldered man from before. When ferocious eyes glared back, he felt an icy shiver seep into his bones. He tried desperately to escape, but the man’s orc-like grip made it nearly impossible. Only one option came to mind- one that Tyrus wanted to avoid expressing.
His nails transformed into knife-like claws, and his vision grew sharper while his fangs grew in. In one swift motion, he swung at the man’s arm. He felt flesh, and the man’s grip slackened. Noticing the lack of pressure, Tyrus squirmed and finally released himself.
His freedom regained, he channeled his energy towards his legs and was prepared to bolt towards the forest. A moment before take-off, he was overwhelmed by excruciating pain in his backside. As if he was lying on top of a bonfire, Tyrus screamed out in agony, dropping to all fours as his vision blurred.
“What are you, weak? Why’d you drop the runt from just a little graze?”
The orc-like man’s companion sauntered into the fray, frowning as he smacked him in the head. The big man scowled, yet stayed quiet as his companion lit his finger aflame and lowered it onto his wound. He endured the flames without displaying any sign of discomfort until they ceased and left black marks on his skin.
“The runt grew claws and slashed away at my skin,” he said. “He might be one of them, Otto.”
Otto strutted forward and pulled the cap off Tyrus. A pair of tufted, rounded black ears greeted him. The claws of Tyrus shrunk back into dirt-filled nails and his fangs disappeared. Because of the excruciating pain, Tyrus had subconsciously retracted them away.
Otto smirked at the sight. “He’s a disgusting Demi-human. Hybrids with Beastfolk blood serve only one purpose.”
At his own remark, the man delivered a swift kick to the boy's stomach. Tyrus sucked in large gulps of air as he clutched his belly, curling into a ball from hard blows all over. Just what did he do to deserve such a beating? All he did was nab a piece of stale bread that the storekeeper was about to throw out just because it had fallen to the ground. When he was about to devour the food, he witnessed the pair eyeing him with bottomless greed. Danger had displayed its despicable colors, leading Tyrus to flee.
After Otto had his fill, he slinked away from the quivering Tyrus. He felt bruises and knots already forming, and his breathing had slowed. However, even though he was battered, he still attempted to escape. Struggling to his knees, he huffed as he clutched at his sides, glaring at the men in front of him as his nails transformed once more. That only seemed to anger them more.
“Still got some fight in ya?” Otto snarled. “You must be wondering why we’ve singled you out amongst the others. You see, we were looking for some wanderings kids to sell and whatnot. It just so happens that you caught our eye. Tough luck, kid.”
The man smiled as he snapped his fingers. Otis shuffled forward and lifted his hand. One of his fingers boasted a silver ring with an embedded green gem. Tapping it once, out came a pair of handcuffs. He handed the pair to Otto. Tyrus stepped back, growling.
There was no way he was going to let himself get caught and sold. He was aware he was not wanted, so he established his home in the forest where he felt protected. Whenever he went out and explored the village to appease his curiosity, he always made sure he had his hat all the time. Tyrus knew he differed from the rest. Everyone else lacked the characteristics Tyrus had, that being ears that sprouted from the top. They saw him as merely an animal.
The two traffickers crept toward Tyrus, smiling wickedly. He would gladly turn around and run from his pursuers, but the magic from earlier dealt a heavy blow. It took all his strength just to stand up. His legs trembled like he’d been standing for days. When he couldn’t take it any more, he dropped onto one knee, yet his pale face still lingered on the two.
Orc-man was about to force the cuffs on Tyrus’s arm but paused immediately. Tyrus wondered why the man stopped, but that curiosity washed away almost instantly when something astonishing happened. The man dropped the cuffs onto the grass and abruptly stood up. He turned around and shambled toward his confused partner. Cocking his arm as far as he could, he hurled a fist at his companion’s jaw. A sickening crunch enveloped the air, and the struck man collapsed.
Looking at him closely, the man’s eyelids were half-closed, and his eyes dazed. He reached into his own tunic and brought out a hidden dagger. To Tyrus’s horror, he had thought the man had changed his mind and would plunge the cold steel into his chest. However, contrary to expectations, the orc-man brought the blade down into Otto’s skull. Blood sprouted forth, staining the floor red. Then, without warning, he brought the dagger to his neck and sliced it in one fluid motion. He too crumbled.
Tyrus was too shocked to even speak. He had never seen a dead human before, especially in such a gruesome fashion. Right in front of him lay two corpses spilling out crimson, the light in their eyes gone, and their life extinguished. He just sat there, watching with wide eyes as his fingers trembled. Yet, as soon as he took his first blink, the bodies were no longer there. The same familiar scent from before filled his nose.
“I humbly apologize for allowing you to witness such a sight.”
At the sound of the foreign voice, Tyrus whirled around to see a cloaked figure standing before him. He acted on reflex and moved away while snarling, drawing out his claws. The figure simply shook their head and strutted forward. A few meters away, they kneeled and rummaged through their cloak. On their gloved hand was a stick of bread. They slowly extended their arm.
“This item seems to have fallen from you during our encounter. I committed myself to finding you and returning the bread. When I became aware of your troubles on the outskirts of town, I decided to provide aid. These men should no longer be a bother to you.”
Tyrus stared at the figure, scooting away slowly. “You’re… not with them?”
“I have no connections with such abhorrence, therefore you can be certain that I am not a threat to you. I am merely a nomad. You may address me as Wanderer.” The figure pulled away a part of their cloak, revealing a leather belt with many pockets. From within it, they retrieved a cylindrical container. After opening it, the air was filled with a profound earthy scent. They placed the jar in Tyrus’s hand. “That right there is a healing salve. It will heal your cuts and bruises at the drop of a hat. Simply apply the salve onto your fingers and gently spread it over your wounds.”
Tyrus gaped at the item in his hands, hesitant to use the healing salve. He still didn’t trust the stranger, even though they had saved him from a terrible fate. Moreover, why were they being so kind to him? From what he knew, a lot of folks were put off by his appearance. The person standing ahead of him didn’t show any hostility or disgust, despite having his ears uncovered.
Before he could open his mouth, a shriek from behind pierced his ears. Twirling around, there stood a group of kids from beyond the walls, pointing their stubby fingers at the pair. They all turned and ran away, shouting for help. Panic began to settle in Tyrus’s gut as a slew of scenarios raced through his mind. If the village guards were to see him alongside the bodies, they would surely capture him on the spot! He had to get away as fast as possible.
“It appears we've been seen,” Wanderer said. “It may not be the most prudent decision to stay behind and apprise the guards of the situation.”
The figure reached forward and grabbed the fallen cap. They also nicked the ring of the fallen and stashed it away. And in one fell swoop, picked up Tyrus with no trouble. He was about to scream out in protest until Wanderer turned to the forest and took off running. The sudden burst of speed was appalling. They were moving as swiftly as the quickest of horses. The forest scenery rushed by in a blur of green streaks, and his hair flapped wildly in the wind, obscuring his vision. Tyrus didn’t know where Wanderer was taking him, and he didn’t want to say or do anything that could endanger him any further.
Some time had passed, and Wanderer’s pace reduced drastically to a walk. As if handling a baby, Wanderer placed Tyrus on a nearby tree and grasped the healing salve in his hands. Wordlessly, they applied the medicine to his wounds. Despite the initial discomfort, Tyrus was relieved as he felt the pain dissipate and the benefits kick in. The swells around his body were gone, and the cuts and bruises were no more. He even felt it had replenished some of his energy. Wanderer, now satisfied that Tyrus had recovered, tucked the healing salve away.
“With your wounds having been healed, you ought to be able to move without difficulty.”
Tyrus silently rose, inspecting his body all around. The medicine had truly worked. He experienced no discomfort and felt fully rejuvenated. The mental fatigue still lingered, but it could be recovered with a good day of rest. Just who was Wanderer that they carried such a tiny miracle in their pockets?
“T-Thank you for your help,” Tyrus said. “You went out of your way to help a lowly Demi-human like me…”
“It was no trouble. Children like you should do their best to stay away from heavily populated places. Orphans, especially those with Beastfolk lineage, are highly sought after throughout Dharmere.”
Tyrus stepped forward. “B-But why is that? Don’t they feel bad for taking kids away from their friends and family?”
The figure’s eyes locked onto his, and neither of them spoke a word. With a small sigh, they lowered themselves to Tyrus’s height. With the cap still in their hands, they gently placed it on top of his head. “The world is a cruel place; you should know that much. From the state of your clothes and the way you cling to that stale piece of bread, it’s clear that you live a hard life.”
Pursing his lips, Tyrus looked away. Wanderer took that chance to continue. “You were unfortunately fated to live a hard life. Condemned to live in places that are deemed too unappealing or unsuitable for habitation. The gods deemed it appropriate to put you under such circumstances. In spite of the unfavorable future, keep your hopes high.”
“Hope?” Tyrus repeated.
“Struggle for a better life. Do not be content with a life of mediocrity. Take whatever actions are required to ensure a secure and prosperous future for yourself. This knowledge is of great significance to those who have faced hardships. I assure you I have personal experience with these types of things.”
As if they had finished speaking, the person rose, their cloak fluttering gracefully. During their entire encounter, Tyrus found it weird that Wanderer abstained from revealing their identity. The complete coverage of their body made it challenging to determine their physique. Only a partial part of their face was exposed, with that being their hairless chin and glossy lips. As for their voice, it sounded like a weird mix of masculinity and femininity, creating a firm balance that alluded to pinpointing their identity. His suspicions about the character grew.
“That is all I impart upon you, child. May Sthito’s fortune blow your way,” Wanderer finished. Just as it seemed like they would leave any second, Tyrus pulled on their cloak. They looked down, confused.
Tyrus swallowed down the nervousness rising in his throat. He was still skeptical and afraid of the person before him. They had just effortlessly killed two men in front of him and didn’t bat a single eye at their carnage. They acted as though taking the life of another was commonplace. While he was in the presence of a dangerous figure, they still took the time to help him and even offered some advice. Following that logic, they must have some good in their heart. Aside from that, he was also curious about the magic they used earlier.
Taking in deep breaths, he muttered a single sentence. “Can you please follow me to my shack?”
*Welcome! The early chapters are fast-paced, but the story slows down a lot in the later chapters. This story is a slow-burn, progression fantasy and some chapters will have a different POV. If you dislike slow-burn stories, this might not be for you.
Tyrus navigated through the cobbled streets, pushing through crowds as the freezing air stung his lungs. The struggle against the mass of people was exhausting, but he kept going and eventually made it through. Gasping for breath, he glanced back and observed two figures approaching rapidly. Tyrus pushed a stale stick of bread further up his tunic and continued sprinting.
He dodged between wagons and carriages, earning shouts and curses from red-faced men. Tyrus paid no attention to their words and fled, motivated by the fear of being caught. After skillfully evading the dangerous wheels and hooves, he returned unscathed to the buzzing sidewalk full of people and stores.
An aroma of sizzling meat and fresh loaves permeated the air. Tyrus’ belly rumbled, as though rebelling against the exertion. When he glanced over his shoulder, looking for his pursuers, he noticed they were closer than ever, shoving through the crowd with no remorse. One of them was a broad-shouldered man with a beard as bushy as a lesser hound’s fur. Another was skinny yet clean-shaven, with a black cap that obscured his eyes. Tyrus sucked in his breath and increased his pace.
He escaped the bustling marketplace and entered the residential area. He was close to the hideout. The outskirts were accessible through a small alley at the end of a large wood building. As long as he made it there on time, he’d lose his pursuers.
As he rounded the corner, he collided with a moving shadow. Tyrus smushed his nose and yelped as he fell onto the ground, his hat sliding off his head. With rapid movements, he approached his garment and forced it on, wishing his appearance had not been revealed. He briefly lifted his eyes to the person standing before him.
The figure had a black cloak draped along their rigid frame. Their hood obscured half of their face, but Tyrus glimpsed a small scar on their cheek. What stood out the most was the familiar atmosphere they projected. A familiar scent caught his attention, but he couldn't quite remember where he'd smelled it before. The figure extended their hand, causing Tyrus to jerk and abruptly stand up.
“Pardon me...”
He didn't wait for a response, instead he dashed past and refused to look back. Just up ahead was a short wall that even a child could hop over. Tyrus effortlessly jumped over the wall, landed on the soft dirt, and sprinted away. Outside of the town lay a small forest bustling with beasts. At a remote location, there was a small shack where he had been dwelling for some time. It was far enough to not get spotted, yet near a settlement, making it easy for him to acquire resources if necessary.
While Tyrus was nearing the forest's outskirts, he heard whistling from behind. His instincts kicked in, and he ducked his body as low as he could. Mere moments later, a small blast of red light veered past him, hitting a tree. Shortly thereafter, the tree was set ablaze, and the flames elegantly moved across the bark, ultimately engulfing the entire tree in flames. Tyrus gaped at it in awe.
“Where do you think you’re going, runt?”
A powerful hand gripped his collar and lifted him off the ground. Glancing behind him, there stood the broad-shouldered man from before. When ferocious eyes glared back, he felt an icy shiver seep into his bones. He tried desperately to escape, but the man’s orc-like grip made it nearly impossible. Only one option came to mind- one that Tyrus wanted to avoid expressing.
His nails transformed into knife-like claws, and his vision grew sharper while his fangs grew in. In one swift motion, he swung at the man’s arm. He felt flesh, and the man’s grip slackened. Noticing the lack of pressure, Tyrus squirmed and finally released himself.
His freedom regained, he channeled his energy towards his legs and was prepared to bolt towards the forest. A moment before take-off, he was overwhelmed by excruciating pain in his backside. As if he was lying on top of a bonfire, Tyrus screamed out in agony, dropping to all fours as his vision blurred.
“What are you, weak? Why’d you drop the runt from just a little graze?”
The orc-like man’s companion sauntered into the fray, frowning as he smacked him in the head. The big man scowled, yet stayed quiet as his companion lit his finger aflame and lowered it onto his wound. He endured the flames without displaying any sign of discomfort until they ceased and left black marks on his skin.
“The runt grew claws and slashed away at my skin,” he said. “He might be one of them, Otto.”
Otto strutted forward and pulled the cap off Tyrus. A pair of tufted, rounded black ears greeted him. The claws of Tyrus shrunk back into dirt-filled nails and his fangs disappeared. Because of the excruciating pain, Tyrus had subconsciously retracted them away.
Otto smirked at the sight. “He’s a disgusting Demi-human. Hybrids with Beastfolk blood serve only one purpose.”
At his own remark, the man delivered a swift kick to the boy's stomach. Tyrus sucked in large gulps of air as he clutched his belly, curling into a ball from hard blows all over. Just what did he do to deserve such a beating? All he did was nab a piece of stale bread that the storekeeper was about to throw out just because it had fallen to the ground. When he was about to devour the food, he witnessed the pair eyeing him with bottomless greed. Danger had displayed its despicable colors, leading Tyrus to flee.
After Otto had his fill, he slinked away from the quivering Tyrus. He felt bruises and knots already forming, and his breathing had slowed. However, even though he was battered, he still attempted to escape. Struggling to his knees, he huffed as he clutched at his sides, glaring at the men in front of him as his nails transformed once more. That only seemed to anger them more.
“Still got some fight in ya?” Otto snarled. “You must be wondering why we’ve singled you out amongst the others. You see, we were looking for some wanderings kids to sell and whatnot. It just so happens that you caught our eye. Tough luck, kid.”
The man smiled as he snapped his fingers. Otis shuffled forward and lifted his hand. One of his fingers boasted a silver ring with an embedded green gem. Tapping it once, out came a pair of handcuffs. He handed the pair to Otto. Tyrus stepped back, growling.
There was no way he was going to let himself get caught and sold. He was aware he was not wanted, so he established his home in the forest where he felt protected. Whenever he went out and explored the village to appease his curiosity, he always made sure he had his hat all the time. Tyrus knew he differed from the rest. Everyone else lacked the characteristics Tyrus had, that being ears that sprouted from the top. They saw him as merely an animal.
The two traffickers crept toward Tyrus, smiling wickedly. He would gladly turn around and run from his pursuers, but the magic from earlier dealt a heavy blow. It took all his strength just to stand up. His legs trembled like he’d been standing for days. When he couldn’t take it any more, he dropped onto one knee, yet his pale face still lingered on the two.
Orc-man was about to force the cuffs on Tyrus’s arm but paused immediately. Tyrus wondered why the man stopped, but that curiosity washed away almost instantly when something astonishing happened. The man dropped the cuffs onto the grass and abruptly stood up. He turned around and shambled toward his confused partner. Cocking his arm as far as he could, he hurled a fist at his companion’s jaw. A sickening crunch enveloped the air, and the struck man collapsed.
Looking at him closely, the man’s eyelids were half-closed, and his eyes dazed. He reached into his own tunic and brought out a hidden dagger. To Tyrus’s horror, he had thought the man had changed his mind and would plunge the cold steel into his chest. However, contrary to expectations, the orc-man brought the blade down into Otto’s skull. Blood sprouted forth, staining the floor red. Then, without warning, he brought the dagger to his neck and sliced it in one fluid motion. He too crumbled.
Tyrus was too shocked to even speak. He had never seen a dead human before, especially in such a gruesome fashion. Right in front of him lay two corpses spilling out crimson, the light in their eyes gone, and their life extinguished. He just sat there, watching with wide eyes as his fingers trembled. Yet, as soon as he took his first blink, the bodies were no longer there. The same familiar scent from before filled his nose.
“I humbly apologize for allowing you to witness such a sight.”
At the sound of the foreign voice, Tyrus whirled around to see a cloaked figure standing before him. He acted on reflex and moved away while snarling, drawing out his claws. The figure simply shook their head and strutted forward. A few meters away, they kneeled and rummaged through their cloak. On their gloved hand was a stick of bread. They slowly extended their arm.
“This item seems to have fallen from you during our encounter. I committed myself to finding you and returning the bread. When I became aware of your troubles on the outskirts of town, I decided to provide aid. These men should no longer be a bother to you.”
Tyrus stared at the figure, scooting away slowly. “You’re… not with them?”
“I have no connections with such abhorrence, therefore you can be certain that I am not a threat to you. I am merely a nomad. You may address me as Wanderer.” The figure pulled away a part of their cloak, revealing a leather belt with many pockets. From within it, they retrieved a cylindrical container. After opening it, the air was filled with a profound earthy scent. They placed the jar in Tyrus’s hand. “That right there is a healing salve. It will heal your cuts and bruises at the drop of a hat. Simply apply the salve onto your fingers and gently spread it over your wounds.”
Tyrus gaped at the item in his hands, hesitant to use the healing salve. He still didn’t trust the stranger, even though they had saved him from a terrible fate. Moreover, why were they being so kind to him? From what he knew, a lot of folks were put off by his appearance. The person standing ahead of him didn’t show any hostility or disgust, despite having his ears uncovered.
Before he could open his mouth, a shriek from behind pierced his ears. Twirling around, there stood a group of kids from beyond the walls, pointing their stubby fingers at the pair. They all turned and ran away, shouting for help. Panic began to settle in Tyrus’s gut as a slew of scenarios raced through his mind. If the village guards were to see him alongside the bodies, they would surely capture him on the spot! He had to get away as fast as possible.
“It appears we've been seen,” Wanderer said. “It may not be the most prudent decision to stay behind and apprise the guards of the situation.”
The figure reached forward and grabbed the fallen cap. They also nicked the ring of the fallen and stashed it away. And in one fell swoop, picked up Tyrus with no trouble. He was about to scream out in protest until Wanderer turned to the forest and took off running. The sudden burst of speed was appalling. They were moving as swiftly as the quickest of horses. The forest scenery rushed by in a blur of green streaks, and his hair flapped wildly in the wind, obscuring his vision. Tyrus didn’t know where Wanderer was taking him, and he didn’t want to say or do anything that could endanger him any further.
Some time had passed, and Wanderer’s pace reduced drastically to a walk. As if handling a baby, Wanderer placed Tyrus on a nearby tree and grasped the healing salve in his hands. Wordlessly, they applied the medicine to his wounds. Despite the initial discomfort, Tyrus was relieved as he felt the pain dissipate and the benefits kick in. The swells around his body were gone, and the cuts and bruises were no more. He even felt it had replenished some of his energy. Wanderer, now satisfied that Tyrus had recovered, tucked the healing salve away.
“With your wounds having been healed, you ought to be able to move without difficulty.”
Tyrus silently rose, inspecting his body all around. The medicine had truly worked. He experienced no discomfort and felt fully rejuvenated. The mental fatigue still lingered, but it could be recovered with a good day of rest. Just who was Wanderer that they carried such a tiny miracle in their pockets?
“T-Thank you for your help,” Tyrus said. “You went out of your way to help a lowly Demi-human like me…”
“It was no trouble. Children like you should do their best to stay away from heavily populated places. Orphans, especially those with Beastfolk lineage, are highly sought after throughout Dharmere.”
Tyrus stepped forward. “B-But why is that? Don’t they feel bad for taking kids away from their friends and family?”
The figure’s eyes locked onto his, and neither of them spoke a word. With a small sigh, they lowered themselves to Tyrus’s height. With the cap still in their hands, they gently placed it on top of his head. “The world is a cruel place; you should know that much. From the state of your clothes and the way you cling to that stale piece of bread, it’s clear that you live a hard life.”
Pursing his lips, Tyrus looked away. Wanderer took that chance to continue. “You were unfortunately fated to live a hard life. Condemned to live in places that are deemed too unappealing or unsuitable for habitation. The gods deemed it appropriate to put you under such circumstances. In spite of the unfavorable future, keep your hopes high.”
“Hope?” Tyrus repeated.
“Struggle for a better life. Do not be content with a life of mediocrity. Take whatever actions are required to ensure a secure and prosperous future for yourself. This knowledge is of great significance to those who have faced hardships. I assure you I have personal experience with these types of things.”
As if they had finished speaking, the person rose, their cloak fluttering gracefully. During their entire encounter, Tyrus found it weird that Wanderer abstained from revealing their identity. The complete coverage of their body made it challenging to determine their physique. Only a partial part of their face was exposed, with that being their hairless chin and glossy lips. As for their voice, it sounded like a weird mix of masculinity and femininity, creating a firm balance that alluded to pinpointing their identity. His suspicions about the character grew.
“That is all I impart upon you, child. May Sthito’s fortune blow your way,” Wanderer finished. Just as it seemed like they would leave any second, Tyrus pulled on their cloak. They looked down, confused.
Tyrus swallowed down the nervousness rising in his throat. He was still skeptical and afraid of the person before him. They had just effortlessly killed two men in front of him and didn’t bat a single eye at their carnage. They acted as though taking the life of another was commonplace. While he was in the presence of a dangerous figure, they still took the time to help him and even offered some advice. Following that logic, they must have some good in their heart. Aside from that, he was also curious about the magic they used earlier.
Taking in deep breaths, he muttered a single sentence. “Can you please follow me to my shack?”
