When Last Night Didn't End

5.4

Gabyle was vastly different from what I recall. That much should have clued me in as to how this quest unfolded.

My travel boots slapped against the town's cobblestones, the early sunlight beating down on me like an unrelenting gavel. If there was one relief, it was being able to store all of my things in my inventory so I could travel with nothing but the clothes on my back and my sword slung by my hip. I dusted the sleeves of my tunic, straightened the collar of my vest, and adjusted my cloak on my shoulders.

I strode towards a line of horse-drawn wagons complete with the curved ceilings covered with some sort of tarp. I bet those felt like the cloth I found on my face that one night in camp during the joint mission with the Dragnasand nutters. To this day, I still couldn't figure out who the hell had the nerve to do that to me. It couldn't be Heather. She didn't even know I couldn't sleep without covering my feet.

In fact, none of them knew I require almost religious conditions when it comes to getting enough sleep. The temperature needed to be right, the light constant, and the mattress soft and primed. It's a miracle I was even able to steal a wink during those hard times in Warthos. How I longed for my room back at my parents' house. Heck, I'd even settle in my room in the apartment, even if it's full of unwanted memories. At least, Rin had enough consideration to pick the floor with a nice view of how the city spread.

Before I realized, a frown pulled down the corners of my lips, earning me looks from the people leaning against their carts or just passing by. "How much to Haalor?" I asked the first merchant in the queue, one who had a pirate-like face, complete with the eyepatch, matted beard, and missing teeth (which I only saw when he smiled at me after finishing checking me out. I know, ugh).

"Depends on how much you're willing to give me, love," he clicked his tongue, fingering the belt loops of his trousers. Oh, ew. This wouldn't do.

"Haalor, you say?" a springy voice directed my attention to a boy half my age with messy brown hair and freckles splashed across his face. "I can take you there. But for an ethran."

I raised an eyebrow. Just an ethran. Heck, I'd give this boy two for being pleasant. Talk about customer service. A good one would get you the client. "Think I'll go with you," I jerked my chin towards the boy dressed in the same combination of clothes as me. "Lead the way."

If I willed it, I could have blended in with them as a merchant. Well, save for the glinting, golden nameplates on their vests. Running it through a quick Speech Transfer, I realized the boy's plate said, Jarayu. And that's it.

What did people do in this place should they end up with someone with the same name? Then again, back in the real world, there were a gazillion people with the same names but they weren't doing anything, except maybe to adjust. Who's to say there was any difference here?

"If you could step inside," the boy opened the back of his cart and gestured towards the dim enclosure. If anything, I felt like I was a cow about to be gutted. "Remember to hold on to the rails and to not panic if we stop moving and start skidding down. That's just the horse resting. Haalor's a fun trek, after all!"

My teeth dug against my lip, edging away from the cart a bit. Then, I steeled my nerves with a firm shake of my head. I came all this way, didn't I? I better not return empty-handed. If I was going to win the tournament, I have to do this.

I gripped the outer rails of the cart and hauled myself in. Jarayu perked up and started securing the flaps before finally locking the back door, drowning me in sudden darkness. Then, the tarp to my left peeled back to reveal his goofy grin. "Oh, I'll leave this open for you to enjoy the view," he said. His voice faded as he lumbered towards the coach's seat and took the reins. "It's a must!"

Then, we were off.

The wheels rumbled and clattered against the uneven path up the leviathan of a mountain stretching past the plains of Gabyle. According to the map flashing at the edge of my vision, the ruins of the Temple of Haalor stood at the peak of the tallest rock spire that seemed to rise along the sloping incline of the mountain's side.

The hours were lost on me as the cart rose higher and higher. I sneaked a peek out of the open flap and almost ran out of breath. Fog formed a faint carpet over the expanse, low enough to allow me to brush my fingers against it. Down below, Gabyle spread out like a flat painting of browns and reds, reminding me of the first time I woke up in this world, to my new life.

I turned to my left, craning my neck up. A feeling of being insignificant and small settled in my gut. There were the spires, all slate gray peppered with bouts of green and yellow because of the forest growing around them. They raced towards the sky with undeterred might, leaving the rest of the world on the ground. From there, the sound of waterfalls rumbling to a spew from inside them overtook even the crackle of wheels against the rocky path. Perhaps, these falls were the ones powering the rivers flowing down the mountain, watering the rest of the unexplored forest around Gabyle and helping the town's crops grow. Even then, from where I looked, the water seemed to never reach the ground, dissipating into thin air as if the thickening layer of clouds was gorging it.

Then, the cart stopped. Was the horse just resting? Would we start falling now?

The cart's back door opened, letting the pureness of the sunlight outside shower the inside. Black spots danced in my vision and I furiously blinked them away. "What's going on?" I asked.

"This is as far as I can go," the boy said. "The ethran, please."

I crawled out of the cart and let my feet touch the ground first. Glancing all the way up, gauging the rest of the way I still have to go, I blew a breath. "That's why it's just one ethran," I muttered under my breath. It didn't seem to be loud enough, given the altitude, but the boy picked up on it.

"That's right," he said. "It would be bad if my horse, which I got from my pa, keels over somewhere high up."

I pressed two ethrans into his waiting palm. Before he could ask, I motioned for him to go back down. "Buy yourself something nice," I said.

Pocketing the coins, he pumped his fist in the air. He jumped into the coach's seat and maneuvered his cart with expert pulls and grunts. Then, once he's positioned, he gave the reins one last flick and started his journey back down. A distinct "Adventurers are the best!" could be heard after a few seconds.

I snorted, tucking my hair behind my ear when a breeze blew from an indiscernible direction and brought the strands along. Damn this hair and damn this wind. My hands patted my pockets and came up with the twine made of vines. It's...

The memory of that day bled back into my brain, of warm hands reaching for my hair and deftly tying it back with expert movements as if he had done it a thousand times before. The cold couldn't have snatched the heat off my cheeks as I shook my head to dislodged the memory and the emotions riding with it. Wherever he was now, I hoped to never run into him. Not again.

I tucked my hands into the pockets of my trousers, hunkering into myself as I trudged forward.

Into what's left of the Temple of Darkness.