Revival Of Stars

15 | Eyes In The Inner

CHAPTER 15
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Darkness slowly poured into the sky, pushing the sun away and making room for the moon.

Etta, Lance, Oran and Raya left the cabin and traveled through the thick, thick fog that never seemed to go away. Since the sky dusked, the slim sunlight didn't provide much assistance, making the journey so much worse. It was only the lantern of an emerging moon and Raya's guidance that helped them maneuver in the Southern Mountains.

Before leaving, Raya had told them that The Inner was obscured somewhere near the valley, meaning that it'd take some time to get there. And with the thick, eye-blinding fog coming into play, the journey would take longer than expected.

So, using this time as an advantage, Etta approached Lance slowly and tentatively. Throughout the past few days, he had either kept to himself or been completely bothered by Raya. Now was the chance to approach him and talk about what happened. In Etta's perspective, she felt awfully guilty about everything.

"Hey...uh, Lance," Etta began awkwardly as she fell into step with him—who, at the moment, seemed preoccupied in his own mind. "A lot's happened, and I...I'm sorry."

He continued to walk forward, dark brows still knitted together and eyes stern. It seemed like he was always stuck in that expression. "Why are you sorry?" he asked, but his tone was inattentive, distracted like he wasn't even there.

"Because..." Etta massaged her neck gently, remembering the man's hands tightening around it just a few days ago, "the reason why the man had done that was because I wasn't vigilant with my words. I spoke of the Forbidden Affair, and he hated it because I treated Ja—the Necromancer like a person. In actuality, I shouldn't have even told of that tale in the first place. He was obviously not in the right state of mind, and I made it worse. Then you saved me from him, which inevitably cost you your exposure...which is terrible. God, I'm sorr—"

"It's not your fault," Lance interrupted; he started to sound like he was there, but his gaze was still transfixed in front of him. "It's not your fault that that damn man couldn't control himself. Also he's the one who started it."

"But still—people know what you are now."

"That's my problem. You see, I have a terrible temper, which doesn't really bode well for me in terms of what happens afterwards." He gave an exhausted sigh. "Oran tried to stop me, and I didn't listen."

When he didn't add anything afterwards, Etta turned and peeked at his face. Light bags hung under his eyes, and he looked paler than before. Wrinkles could be seen forming on his forehead, possibly tired from withholding the constant amount of worry in his head for, most likely, his parents back home.

For a moment, Etta felt nostalgic. In Lance's expression, she, in a way, found her younger self. Obviously, their dilemma had been completely different, but it was the same look of concern that had been etched across her face—when she had constantly thought of her mother back home.

Etta didn't know why she said it or how she knew, but it tumbled out without restraint. "You must really love your parents."

It caught him. Lance's footsteps faltered for a second, before he was back to normal. "Yeah. They saved my life."

Then a blanket of comfortable silence covered them.