Verita's Chronicles, The Dreamer

Chapter 12

– So, kid, got nothing to say?
It was him, the man from his dream. He was looking at Henry with an amused expression. Henry, as usual, remained silent, staring passively at the visitor.

– Henry, please, take a seat.
Across from the man and Henry sat Elaine at her desk, watching them with a worried expression. Henry nodded and moved to the chair beside the man.

– I think you've already met.
– Sort of.
Henry fixed the man with a gaze that was both surprised and intrigued. How had this man found him? And who was he?

– Henry, this is Rycaon. Rycaon is a hunter, known for dealing in... let's say, unusual business.
– Like me?
– Yep, kid, like you.

Rycaon gave a lopsided grin, looking at Henry with his single eye. At first glance, Henry would have sworn this man was a beggar—he looked like someone who hadn't seen water in months, reeked of alcohol, and had a pale, sickly complexion.

– No need to be so blunt, Rycaon; he's only twelve.
– I'd rather not sugarcoat things.

Elaine appeared visibly uneasy. She didn't seem to appreciate Rycaon's presence, though she tried to hide it.

– So, here's what's going to happen, kid. You're coming with me. We're going to visit a friend, I'll take a look at this dream thing of yours, and you'll be back before nightfall.

Henry glanced at Elaine, expecting her to say something, but she remained silent. This man, Rycaon—he seemed to frighten her. Should Henry be wary of him too? Claec had called him a drunken fool, but now Henry suspected there was more to him than that.

– Don't worry; you're safe with him. This is all for your own good.
In response, Henry simply nodded. He didn't know how to react. He wanted to say something but didn't know what. It was better to let things unfold and see what happened.

– Great. Well, let's go then.

Rycaon stood up and headed to the door without waiting for a reply.

– After you, kid.

Henry got up and walked through the door Rycaon held open. Just before leaving, he caught a glimpse of Rycaon and Elaine exchanging a nod. They hadn't told him everything. Before he could dwell on it, Rycaon turned and walked out of the orphanage onto the bustling street.

– Listen, kid, before we go any further, I need you to listen carefully. Don't tell anyone about what happens without my say-so. Got it?
– Yes.

Rycaon chuckled softly at Henry's response.

– You're not much of a talker, huh? Well, that's a change, but I won't complain. Let's go.

They didn't travel far; in fact, they stopped in a dark alley not far from the main street. The stench of wastewater and filth assaulted Henry's nose. The man, however, seemed unbothered by the smell. Rycaon stopped in front of a blank wall and pulled a key from his pocket, glancing at Henry.

– I'm counting on you not to tell anyone about this.

When Henry nodded to show he understood, Rycaon turned to the wall and drew a cross at chest height with his thumb.

– Where the loners meet.
– What?

It sounded like some kind of magical incantation the way Rycaon said it. He then placed the key in the middle of the cross he'd drawn, and it slid into the wall as though a lock had always been there. He turned it to the left and stepped back. A portion of the wall, door-sized, began to move. No, it wasn't just moving—it was a door, a hidden one Henry hadn't noticed at all.