The Witching Hour

Chapter 32 - Remeyra

'We're here.' Gale's voice, though rough, pierces through the fog of my thoughts. My gaze shifts to the colossal wall stretching endlessly before us, its formidable presence more awe-inspiring than I had ever imagined. Stories of Baldur's Gate had always painted it as a grand city, but seeing it in person, it dwarfs any image I had conjured in my mind.

A question lingers at the edge of my consciousness, eager to escape my lips. What now? The uncertainty is paralyzing, and I find myself hesitating, too afraid to voice it. I fear that this might be the moment when our paths diverge, when the chasm between us grows too wide to bridge.

The silence stretches, a palpable tension hanging between us. Finally, Gale breaks it with a voice that, though tremulous, carries an unmistakable firmness. 'Come. I'll take you to the Elfsong Tavern. It's getting late, and you need rest. It's safe there.'

His offer is both a relief and a source of further confusion. Is the tremor in his voice masking his own exhaustion or perhaps a deeper frustration? I nod in silent agreement, too overwhelmed to articulate my thoughts.

As we make our way through the bustling streets, the city reveals its myriad facets. Merchants, animated and boisterous, peddle their wares with exaggerated enthusiasm. The clamor of their voices competes with the raucous laughter of drunken men, who stagger and brawl in the dimming light. Shadows dance along the cobblestones as the sun sinks beneath the horizon, leaving the city bathed in an aura of mystery and vibrant life.

The scene before me is a whirlwind of activity and color, an eclectic mix of races and personalities. The sight is mesmerizing, overwhelming, and strangely comforting. It's a world so different from the forest I've known, yet captivating in its own way.

Our journey leads us to a grandiose building that commands attention. The Elfsong Tavern stands before us, its exterior a study in elegance with small tables arranged on the front porch, where patrons sip their drinks in the warm glow of flickering lamps. Balconies, wide and inviting, overlook the lively scene below, suggesting a place of both opulence and warmth.

Gale's stride falters as we reach the entrance. He casts a lingering glance at the tavern, a hint of nostalgia or perhaps relief in his expression. 'The Elfsong Tavern,' he says with a touch of reverence. 'It hosted me and my... friends a few times before.' He sighs, as though releasing a burden he had been carrying for too long. 'Let me get us rooms.'

'Rooms?' I echo, my voice laced with confusion.

Gale raises an eyebrow, and I brace myself for a snarky retort. 'I didn't think you wanted to share a room again,' he comments with an unexpected seriousness.

His question catches me off guard, and I stutter as I try to explain. 'No— I... You're staying?'

'Yes.' His response is immediate and resolute, a confirmation that settles heavily in my chest. It feels as though a significant weight has been lifted, though I can't quite grasp why his presence is so reassuring.

In this moment, I find myself reflecting on Gale's steadfastness. Anyone else might have left long ago Hells, they would've left the moment I got hurt. Along with my belongings. But Gale remains, unwavering. Which makes me wonder which one of us is the fool in this situation?

'Will you ever come in, or do you need a formal invitation? Don't tell me you're part vampire now' he quips, his voice carrying a playful mockery.

He is. He is the fool.

'It's not a laughing matter,' I reply with dry amusement, matching his mockery with a touch of my own. 'But no, I'm not.'

'Just a hag, then?' Gale's words are sharp, a probing edge behind the jest, loud enough that nearby patrons may overhear. He doesn't realize I've already come to terms with who I am, but still...