Woven Shadows

Chapter 6

Dawn filtered through the thin, tattered curtains, casting pale light across the room. The fire had long since burned out, leaving behind a faint chill in the air. My body felt lighter, more rested than I had in days, the weight of my journey not pressing as heavily on my chest as usual. I stretched, feeling the stiffness in my limbs ease for the first time since I'd started traveling.

Lottie lay sprawled across the bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, her golden hair spilling over the pillow in a wild cascade. Her breathing was soft, her face peaceful—completely at odds with the chaotic energy she usually radiated. I studied her for a moment, the carefree look on her face somehow calming me, though I wasn't sure why.

My eyes drifted to the pile of clean clothes folded neatly on the stool by the door. She had kept her word. I got up slowly, careful not to wake her, and dressed in silence, my movements slow and deliberate. The outfit was sleek, dark, and form-fitting, its fabric smooth against my skin. The scale-like texture across my abdomen shimmered faintly in the dim light, and I ran my fingers over it, feeling the strength hidden beneath the elegance. This was a new addition, odd. The high-collared top framed my shoulders, angular details giving the garment a sharp, almost dangerous edge. In the center, a triangular cutout revealed a sliver of skin, adding just enough softness to balance the fierce design. I tugged at the collar, adjusting it, and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

It felt... right. Strong. Ready for what was ahead.

As I finished dressing, I considered leaving before Lottie woke. It would be easier—no awkward conversations, no binding myself to the promise I had made. But something stopped me, my thoughts lingering on her last words before we'd fallen asleep.

"Don't worry, Brighton. We'll figure it out."

How did she know my name? Had I told her? I couldn't remember. The memory of the past night was blurred with exhaustion, and I couldn't recall ever saying it aloud. It left an uneasy feeling in my chest, but there was a strange comfort in the fact that she knew. For the first time in a long while, I wasn't completely alone.

Sighing, I pushed the thought aside. I had promised to let her come along, and despite my instincts telling me to run, I couldn't break that promise now. There was something about Lottie—something that drew people in. Maybe that's why I hadn't left. Maybe I wasn't as ready to be on my own as I thought.

I slipped out of the room quietly, heading downstairs to grab breakfast before she woke. The tavern was as dim and worn as it had been the night before, the faint scent of old ale and wood smoke lingering in the air. The few patrons scattered around the room didn't pay me any attention as I made my way to a table in the back, away from the light and noise.

The chair creaked under me as I sat, and I leaned back, letting the shadows of the corner offer me some privacy. The table was rough beneath my fingers, its surface worn and scarred from years of use. I traced one of the initials carved into the wood, feeling the deep grooves as I tried to ground myself in the moment.

The barmaid, the same one from last night, approached without a word, placing a plate of bread, cheese, and fruit in front of me. Her dark hair was pulled back in the same messy braid, her face flushed and shadowed with exhaustion. She didn't meet my eyes as she set down a mug of water before disappearing into the kitchen.

I picked at the food, not really tasting it. The bread was dense, requiring more effort to chew than it was worth, and the cheese crumbled easily, its sharp tang biting at the back of my throat. The fruit was the only thing that offered any real relief, its sweetness cutting through the bitterness that had settled in my chest. It wasn't much, but it was enough to quiet the hunger gnawing at my stomach.