The icy lake and snow reflected the suns fading orange glare, making people squint as they passed by. People rushed inside the massive stone gates, fleeing the coming night. Most were normal folk; others were fishermen or hunters. And some were Dreamers.
Most buildings were made of scrap, scavenged from nearby ruins. At a glance, their exteriors looked like rundown hovels.
But the reality couldn’t have been more different.
The interiors of nearly all houses and shops, except those near the high walls, were made of wood. Stepping inside, one would be greeted by the warm, comfortable atmosphere of a wooden cabin.
In one such building, a tavern on East Street, Elyas and Noah sat across from each other. The clamor of utensils against plates and the jukebox playing softly in the corner blended into a pleasant mush of sound.
“Eat well. You haven’t eaten much for months,” Noah said, gesturing toward the fish soup on the table.
“I’ll definitely repay you someday,” Elyas said hurriedly as he soaked a loaf of bread in the soup and stuffed it into his mouth.
“Man! This tastes so good!” Elyas exclaimed, lifting the bowl and drinking straight from it. After a moment, he added, “Can I have another?” He smiled the entire time.
Noah was speechless, and currently reconsidering his hospitality.
“You can… but no more. I don’t want to go broke,” he said, calling over the waiter.
Elyas looked puzzled. As his gaze followed the waiter carrying his order, he asked, “Aren’t you part of the Protocol? How do you manage to go broke with the government backing you?” He popped a piece of dry bread into his mouth.
“Oh, it seems good at first,” Noah said bitterly. “But on top of having to play magical police, I get paid shit. We’re paid per completed mission, and each one takes weeks.”
He spoke with a pained expression, subconsciously glancing at the soup being placed in front of Elyas. “Oh… sorry. I didn’t mean to make things harder for you,” Elyas said, looking down at the bowl.
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Noah shook his head. “No pressure. I’m doing this to repay someone’s kindness, not to profit.” After watching Elyas devour his soup for a while, Noah spoke again.
“…Although, if you joined the Protocol, my job hunting rogue Dreamers would be much easier. Especially with the help of another Heartless who’s lived over a hundred years.”
Between frantic bites, Elyas managed, “You keep saying “over a hundred years”… what’s up with that?” Noah’s expression stiffened.
“Don’t tell me…” he whispered, then fell silent.
Elyas frowned. “What’s with that face?”
Noah forced a shaky smile. “It’s just that… Vernis fell a hundred years ago. But the First Whispers…” He swallowed. “Those happened over three centuries before that.” Elyas froze, his spoon halfway to his mouth. A cold weight settled in his chest.
Four hundred years…
He forgot to breathe. The tavern’s noise faded into nothing. Then a face flashed before him. The boy’s big blue eyes, small hands tugging at his coat, the laugh he longed to hear again.
He drew a shallow, trembling breath.
There’s still a chance.
He wanted to see his family again. And to do that, he needed to stay alive. “Noah,” he said, steadier than he felt, “do you know any places that can teach or train me?”
Noah’s lips curved into a smile. “Yeah. I know a few. Let’s go pay them a visit.
…
As the suns dipped beneath the horizon and the moons rose, the streets near East Gate emptied. The pair walked side by side.
The backstreets near the walls were lined with weathered houses and hovels, broken up by the occasional shop or vendor.
Under the moons’ colorful glow, snow-covered rooftops sparkled faintly.
“Don’t worry,” Noah said with a sigh. “The city has plenty of places for Dreamers to train. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Elyas nodded. They had searched all day. But no one had accepted them.
‘Doesn’t matter. Noah’s right. We can try again tomorrow…there’s no way everyone would refuse me.’
They stopped in front of a particularly run-down house.
“Is… this your home?” Elyas asked.
A small house with dull gray walls stood before them. Its windows were clouded with grime, and the walls were riddled with holes.
A faint creaking came from inside.
Noah stepped forward, pulled a key from his pocket, and opened the door. He turned back with a smile. “What do you think?”
He moved quickly, lighting candles and oil lamps. Elyas stepped inside, studying the room. Despite its appearance, the spacious living room felt… familiar.
The holes in the walls were blocked with nailed planks, keeping out the cold. It reminded Elyas of something he hadn’t had in a long time. Shelter. Safety.
A home.
“It’s cozy,” Elyas said, dropping onto the large couch in front of the cold fireplace. Noah laughed. “Good. Since I live alone, you’ll have to take it. I don’t have a second bed.”
Elyas chuckled. “You’ve already done enough for me. It wouldn’t be right to take your bed too.” Noah crouched by the fireplace and tossed in several pieces of firewood. The wood shimmered with a silver glow before igniting.
“Sleep well,” Noah said, heading upstairs.
Elyas waited until the house fell silent.
Then he pulled out a yellow calendar and began to write.
Facts learned:
“I am four hundred years old. Noah mistook me for a Heartless. He said something about half immortals before. I don’t know how I survived this long. Is it because of the Void? There have apparently been multiple Whispers since Noah keeps referring to that day as “the First Whispers.”
He paused, then drew a line.
Questions to be answered:
“What are Heartless? Why did I get a second Wish? What is my cost? What did the Whisperer mean by ‘Thank your fathers and kin’?”
He hesitated, then added:
“Is Michael alive?”
Elyas reread the page. Then he opened a window and tucked the calendar inside the void. Lying back on the couch, warmed by the fire
’s glow, he tried to answer those questions. And without realizing it, he had fallen asleep.
