Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 6

Irelian felt wrong. The streets were too quiet, the air thick with a stench that gnawed at Eren's senses. A thin mist clung to the cobblestone streets, curling like tendrils around his feet as he moved. Eren pulled his cloak tighter, keeping his gaze forward as they passed shadowed alleys and faded signs swinging on rusted chains. Faint lights flickered in broken windows, and the occasional murmur drifted from behind closed doors.

The driver led them through the narrow, winding streets, his movements quick and sure. There was no time to stop, no chance to catch his breath. Eren kept pace, his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of the town's hostility pressing down on him like a second skin. Every sense screamed that he was somewhere he didn't belong.

"Welcome to Irelian," the driver muttered under his breath, as they reached a small, worn-down building at the end of a dim alley. "From here, we split."

Eren stiffened. "Split?"

The driver shrugged, his eyes cold. "Each man walks his own path now. The job was to get you here; what you do from here is none of my business."

Before Eren could protest, the driver turned to leave, but he paused, casting one last glance at Eren. "Remember, mage—don't trust anyone. Not here." He didn't wait for a response, vanishing into the mist, his figure swallowed by the dark.

Eren watched him go, a bitter taste rising in his mouth. He'd been left with little more than the clothes on his back, a few bruises, and the faint weight of regret. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. He'd chosen this. He'd made his choice.

After a moment, he moved forward, stepping carefully over broken stones and scattered debris. The streets were labyrinthine, twisting and turning with no clear path. He knew he needed shelter, a place to gather himself before facing the dangers this town undoubtedly held.

As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with a tall, wiry man cloaked in tattered robes. The man's eyes were sharp, too sharp, and they lingered on Eren with an unsettling intensity. Eren's grip tightened on his dagger.

"New blood," the man sneered, his voice a low hiss. "Thought you'd take a stroll through Irelian, did you? See the sights?"

Eren forced himself to hold the man's gaze, suppressing the chill that ran down his spine. "Just passing through," he replied, keeping his tone even.

The man laughed, a sound like gravel scraping against metal. "Ain't no one just passing through here, friend." He leaned closer, his breath sour. "You're either here to survive... or to bleed."

Eren said nothing, his silence seeming to irritate the man. He gave Eren a shove, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. Eren's heart pounded, the surge of adrenaline sharpening his senses. He could feel the old instinct to keep his head down, to avoid confrontation. But that part of him had been left behind on another path, with another life.

He straightened, meeting the man's gaze. "Is there something you want?"

The man's smirk faltered for a second, and his gaze darkened. "Attitude, huh?" His hand darted forward, fast as a snake. Eren reacted on instinct, stepping back, his hand finding the hilt of his dagger.

But he didn't have to draw it. A flicker of movement to his right caught his eye, and before he could react, a dark figure had appeared between him and the stranger, a blade glinting in the dim light.

"Touch him again," the figure said, their voice a cold whisper. "And I'll make sure you regret it."

The wiry man sneered but didn't press the issue, backing away with a muttered curse before disappearing into the fog. The figure sheathed their blade and turned to Eren, their face partially hidden beneath a hood.

"Careful who you provoke here," they said, their voice steady, though their posture remained tense. "Irelian's filled with worse than him."

Eren took a step back, studying his unexpected ally. He could just make out a pair of intense green eyes beneath the hood, sharp and calculating.

"Thanks," he said, keeping his tone guarded. "But I didn't need the help."

The figure raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at the corners of their lips. "Clearly."

They turned to leave, but Eren hesitated, the fog pressing down on him with an unfamiliar weight. "Wait. Do you know where I can find shelter here? Somewhere... safe?"

The figure paused, considering him for a moment before nodding toward a nearby alley. "There's an old inn just down that way. The owner's no saint, but he keeps the place quiet. It'll cost you, though."

Eren nodded, the hint of a plan forming in his mind. "Thanks."

The figure watched him for a moment, a strange look in their eyes. "Be careful. Irelian doesn't leave room for mistakes."

Eren felt the weight of their words as they disappeared into the mist, leaving him alone once more. He moved quickly, following their directions, his senses on high alert. The inn was exactly where they'd indicated, a squat, gray building with a faded sign swinging over the door.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood and stale ale. Eren approached the counter, where a heavyset man eyed him suspiciously, his fingers drumming on the countertop.

"Newcomer, huh?" the innkeeper grunted. "What's your business?"

"Just passing through," Eren replied, slipping a few coins onto the counter. "Need a place to rest."

The man eyed the coins, then Eren, before pocketing them with a grunt. "Room's upstairs. Don't make trouble, or I'll toss you out myself."

Eren nodded, taking the worn key the innkeeper slid toward him. As he made his way upstairs, he felt the eyes of the other patrons following him, sizing him up. He ignored them, focusing on reaching the relative safety of his room.

Once inside, he bolted the door, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The room was small, barely more than a cot and a rickety table, but it was enough. He sank down onto the cot, exhaustion finally catching up to him.

As he lay back, his mind drifted, images of the day flashing through his thoughts—the mist, the driver's warning, the stranger's face in the fog. His grip on the dagger at his side tightened, the weight of his choices settling heavily on him.

This wasn't the life he'd imagined, the life he'd dreamed of. But it was the life he'd chosen. He'd made it this far, survived everything that had been thrown at him.

Now, as he closed his eyes, the whispers of Irelian filled the room, a haunting reminder of the dangers that lay ahead.

But for the first time, he didn't shrink from it. He welcomed the dark, embraced the silence.

Because here, in the heart of Irelian, was where he would begin to forge a new path.

And he wouldn't look back.

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