As morning light starts to seep through the cracked windows, painting the wooden floor with uneven stripes of gold. I rub my eyes, the weight of the dream still hanging over me like a shroud. Who's Nova?
The name rattles around in my head, refusing to settle. I take a slow breath, steadying myself. It doesn't matter right now—I have more immediate problems to deal with.
Hayle is still asleep on the floor, curled up with her back to the wall, her breathing soft and even. At least she seems to be resting better than I did. Though I still feel bad for not trying to get her to sleep in the bed instead. I stretch out the stiffness in my limbs and take a moment to gather my thoughts before heading downstairs.
Walking in the hallway pinned against the wall is a giant mirror. How I didn't notice this on the way to the room is a mystery, looking into its reflection I get the first real look at myself in this world.
I stand before the cracked mirror, my reflection hazy at first, like a dream that's slipping through my fingers. Slowly, it sharpens, and I see myself more clearly.
The face staring back at me is unfamiliar, yet undeniably mine. My skin, an odd shade of light violet, catches the dim light of the room, almost glowing in the quiet stillness. It's a color I don't recall ever seeing before compared to the other elf's in the village.
There's an ethereal quality to it, as if I've been touched by twilight itself in nature.
Sharp features—high cheekbones, a strong jawline—stare back at me, too perfect to be natural, too beautiful to be mine. My silver hair falls in unruly waves, the ends catching a bit of the light, giving it an almost shimmering quality. It's a stark contrast to the dark, brooding face that I remember from... where? My past?
But it's my eyes that unsettle me the most. A deep scarlet red but there's something else, too—something beneath the surface of that gaze, something... uncertain.
I don't know this person. I barely recognize him. And yet, he's all I have now to connect me to this place.
I run my fingers over the unfamiliar contours of my face, as though somehow trying to ground myself in this new skin, this new identity. But no matter how I look at it, I can't shake the feeling that I'm someone else entirely—someone I'm supposed to be but can't even remember.
Turning from the mirror I continue downstairs.
The common room is already buzzing with uneasy chatter. A few villagers glance my way, then quickly look away when I meet their eyes. Whispers follow me like shadows, and I catch snatches of conversation as I pass.
"That knight... he didn't kill any of them?" One of the men in the corner of the room whispered "No... just stood there, and they ran off." Another at the same table replied "They'll be back, you know. They always come back worse than before.
"Maybe he scared them enough... maybe they won't." he sighs
I ignore the pointed looks and make my way to an empty table near the back. An older woman eyes me warily as she wipes down the bar, and a pair of farmers mutter to each other with anxious glances. I pretend not to notice the way people scoot their chairs just a bit farther from mine.
One of the villagers—an older man with a faded leather hat—gathers his courage and approaches, wringing his hands. "Sir Knight," he starts, voice trembling, "we... we thank you for what you did last night. But you have to understand... the Blood Takers won't just leave it at that. They'll come back, angrier than before. They always do."
I nod slowly, keeping my expression neutral. "I know. But letting them do as they please just isn't an option."
He hesitates, glancing back at a few others who watch with uncertain eyes. "We're not ungrateful, truly... but if they think we're hiding behind you, they'll burn the whole village to the ground just to prove a point. It's not just our lives—they'll slaughter our families and our livestock. We can't afford to provoke them."
I consider his words carefully. The villagers are caught between fear and hope—desperate for someone to stand up but terrified of the consequences. I can't blame them for being scared. I grip the edge of the table, forcing down the irritation building in my chest.
"I understand," I say, forcing my voice to remain calm. "But sometimes fear is what keeps them coming back. You show them you're too afraid to fight, and they'll keep taking advantage of it."
His face crumples with guilt and worry. "We just... we don't want anyone else to die. That's all."
The conversation hangs heavy in the air, and I catch a glimpse of Hayle standing at the bottom of the stairs, her expression unreadable. I take a deep breath, glancing around the room at the weary, wary faces.
Staying here might cause them more pain than help. But leaving would mean letting the Blood Takers come back without resistance—and I can't just turn my back after stepping in once. I owe them at least one more night of peace.
I finally nod, more to myself than anyone else. "I'll stay one more night," I say, and the man's shoulders sag with a mixture of relief and dread. "After that... you'll have to decide if it's worth fighting back or bowing your heads."
He doesn't answer, just shuffles away with a defeated slump. I can still feel the tension wrapping around the room like a noose, but at least they know where I stand.
Hayle approaches, her eyes flicking from me to the villagers and back again. "You're really going to stay?"
I shrug, forcing a smirk to mask the uncertainty gnawing at me. "Just for one more night. Figured I might as well get some rest before heading out again."
She doesn't seem convinced, but she doesn't press the issue. I lean back, letting the conversations return to a low murmur around me, my mind wandering back to the dream and that strange woman's words.
Do not lose yourself to despair...
I clench my fists. Whatever fate has in store for me, I'm not about to just roll over and let it happen.