The Witching Hour

Chapter 13 - Remeyra

I awaken before sunrise, greeted by the chill that fills my room from leaving the window open all night. A shiver runs through me as I reluctantly slip out from under the warmth of my blanket. Hurrying across the room, I reach for the window to close it, still feeling the lingering cold.

I should've brought thicker sleeping attire.

Outside, the sky remains a deep navy blue, the stars slowly fading as the first light of dawn begins to emerge.

I dress quickly, opting for the same clothes I wore yesterday and the day before. Fashion has never been a priority for me.

Next, I face the challenge of taming my unruly hair, which is tangled from yet another restless night haunted by nightmares. The small mirror in my room distorts my reflection in a slightly comical manner, but with effort, I manage to wash up and braid my hair neatly away from my face.

As I finish, the sound of my grumbling stomach reminds me of the task at hand: breakfast. It's time to head downstairs and satisfy the hunger gnawing within me.

After straightening up my room, I meticulously make the bed, smoothing out the wrinkles in the worn sheets and plumping the thin pillow. It's a small space, sparsely furnished with only the essentials—a modest dresser holding a few personal items neatly arranged, a washbasin with a towel hanging nearby, and a small wooden chair tucked under a narrow desk devoid of any clutter.

I gather my few belongings—a satchel with provisions, my dagger and my journal. It's been a while since I wrote something inside.

With a final glance around to ensure everything is in order, I step out into the dimly lit hallway. Descending the creaking wooden stairs, I enter the quiet common room of the inn. The warmth of the hearth is comforting, casting a flickering glow over the empty tables and worn wooden chairs. A faint aroma of freshly brewed tea and baked goods lingers in the air.

I find a solitary table near the hearth and settle into my seat. The innkeeper quietly places a steaming bowl of porridge and a cup of tea before me. The porridge is simple yet nourishing, with a hint of sweetness from dried fruits. The tea warms me from within, soothing the chill of the early morning.

I eat slowly, savoring each spoonful of porridge and occasionally taking a sip of tea. My thoughts turn to the day ahead, contemplating my journey to Baldur's Gate and the tasks awaiting me.

As a few patrons trickled down from their rooms, their presence marked by the clink of glasses and murmured conversations, I focused on my simple breakfast. The inn's atmosphere shifted slightly with their arrival, but I remained engrossed in my own thoughts.

Just as I am finishing my meal, I hear hurried steps descending the wooden stairs. Before I can fully lift my gaze, there is a sudden thud, followed by the sight of the clumsy wizard sprawled on the floor.

'Do you always make such dramatic entrances?' I tease, struggling to stifle a laugh.

'Only when I'm graced with such a stunning audience.'

I roll my eyes at his remark and resumed eating. But just as I prepare to stand and leave, his raspy morning voice cuts through the air, sending a shiver down my spine.

'Departing already? he inquires, his eyes searching mine, reminiscent of last night's intensity.

'Was about to' I reply casually.

'May I join you, Remeyra?'

He remembered my name.

His use of my name catches me off guard, and I blink in surprise. His pronunciation is as peculiar, almost reverent, as though he addressed a deity he sought to please.

'Sure, but make it quick.' I said, attempting to hide my flustered state. I rose from my seat and fetched a glass of water while waiting for him to join me.