All Darkness Dies in Light

"When You Possess Light Within..."

         The Jackals' Tavern. On the outside, it looked rustic, warm and clean. Hard wooden planks and tree trunks made up the exterior. The darkened windows made it difficult to see through but anyone could hear the clinks of glass from outside the wooden door.

Through said large door, the smell of beer was overwhelming. Upon entry, the tavern's patrons would often fall silent, glancing suspiciously over their shoulders to see the intruder. The bartender wouldn't even spare a glance. He knew they would all come to him eventually.

It was truly dreary inside but one would never suspect that from the outside. There were two stories; one for lower class and upper floor for the higher travelers that got unlucky in their journeys and ended up here for a night. The walls were never bare, accumulating more and more paintings from the owner's daughter.

The tavern was often packed. Maybe it was because the food was edible. Several long tables were often occupied by the locals and strangers, men and women who may never cross paths again will often end up sharing a pint together. The upper level held smaller tables for the rare, special, rich gusts who dared to venture in.

What brought people to this place? The cheap prices.

How did I know all of this?

Because I worked there.

My golden curls were pulled back into a long braid despite a few strands coming lose and falling in my blue eyes. My skirt, despite being clean when I first arrived, was now stained and reeked of ale. Balancing the tray in my palm, I carefully danced through the tables, avoiding the groping hands of drunken men. I quickly placed more mugs on the tables, snatching up whatever coins I could, barely avoiding one man's palm as it aimed for my rear.

The owner of the tavern was a man named Berlin. I could count the number of encounters I've had with him on both hands. If my memory served, he was a handsome man with blonde curls and eyes the color of the soil after a rainy day. Despite inheriting the tavern, everyone knew he loathed it. That he wanted nothing to do with it. So he left it all to his wife.

Enna. Oh dear Enna, what would this tavern do without her? She certainly kept it afloat.

I imagine that at one point, she was lovely. But years of this place has taken its toll on her. Her painted lips were always either pursed like she was sucking on a sour lemon or the corners were pulled down into a frown. Her long waves of greying hair was usually pulled back and out of her dulled grey eyes.

They had two children together. The heir to the tavern, their first born, Greyson with his father's blonde curls and eyes that were dark enough to rival the night sky on a starless night. When he gets ownership of this tavern, I know that'll be the end of it. He was so focused on his lover that he would let this place burn if she ordered him to do so.

And then there was the daughter, Jemma, only three years younger than her brother. Enna was doing everything in her power to give Jemma the best possible marriage she could. Pity for her that a tavern owner's daughter wasn't the most sought after wedding proposal despite her beauty. The same golden curls but with grey eyes so light, they were almost white.

Oh how I loathed the entire family.

At the bar, I finally took a moment to breath and fix the hair escaping my braid. I huffed, slamming my tray atop of the bar, causing the bartender to look up with a raised eyebrow.

"Rough night?" He guessed.

Loren, the bartender, was arguably my favorite person at this bar. He was a little older than I was with blonde hair usually pulled back into a braid of his own that fell down his back. His eyes were a bright golden color to match his locks.