In the bustling chaos outside the hospital, Tassa, an 18-year-old blind woman, navigated her way through the crowd. Her nurse uniform and impeccably tied bun set her apart, though she was oblivious to the commotion surrounding her. As people hurried back into the hospital, whispers and hushed conversations filled the air, leaving Tassa perplexed.
Despite her uncertainty, Tassa clenched her fist and pressed forward. The outside world was a mystery to her, but the determination to escape the confines of the hospital propelled her steps. Trembling but resolute, she continued her journey, avoiding the temptation to retreat back into the familiar walls.
A throng of people gathered around, and in the midst of the crowd, a criminal observed Tassa with a calculating gaze. The nurse uniform caught his attention, and a sinister idea formed in his mind. Slowly tailing her through the gathering, he saw an opportunity to exploit her unwitting presence. In the midst of the clamoring crowd, the criminal boldly strode forward, brandishing his gun as a makeshift scepter. The sea of people, recognizing the peril in his eyes, hastily parted to make way for his sinister advance. As he closed in on Tassa, he seized her, his grip firm and menacing.
The onlookers, now spectators to an unfolding drama, watched in tense silence. Tassa, held captive in the clutches of the criminal, stood undeterred. With a calm demeanor that belied her predicament, she implored, "Don't do it. Not in front of everyone."
The criminal, his intentions masked by the cold steel of the gun he wielded, sneered at her plea. "Who do you think you're talking to?" he demanded, the weight of his malevolence evident in his voice.
Undeterred, Tassa, with a baleful smile, retorted, "Can't tell. Because my mother taught me not to talk to strangers."
The criminal, a figure named Nia'le, regarded her with a chilling gaze, the tension between them palpable. "Can you talk to my gun?" he jeered, his voice dripping with arrogance.
Unfazed, Tassa responded with a steely resolve, "No, can you?" In the tense standoff, Nia'le maintained a baleful gaze at Tassa, his coldness mirroring the chilling situation. The arrival of the police injected a new element into the unfolding drama, as they ordered Nia'le to surrender. However, his response was a defiant smirk, accompanied by a menacing gesture with his gun.
"Listen, ya'll. If you don't stand back, I will gonna kill this nurse. And I'm not even kidding," he declared, escalating the stakes.
Suddenly, a Grim Reaper materialized, an unexpected and surreal presence in the unfolding scene. Its eerie form loomed over Nia'le and the faux police officer, Ixartxist. A strange calm settled over the chaotic moment as the Grim Reaper asserted, "I'll take care of him. And I'll take care of her."
Ixartxist, masquerading as a police officer, remained silent, observing the supernatural intervention without offering a response. Tassa, caught in the crossfire, desperately sought Ixartxist's attention. She called out his name, pleading for him to face her, to acknowledge her presence amid the turmoil.
Unmoved by her pleas, the Grim Reaper insisted that the officer before her wasn't Ixartxist. Ignoring the supernatural entity, Tassa persisted, convinced that the man standing before her was the one she sought. Tassa's conviction remained unshaken, her senses attuned to every detail that defined Ixartxist. She could discern his posture, his hair, his skin, even his scent. From every angle, she had studied him, memorizing his features with unwavering determination. To her, it was undeniable—this officer standing before her was her Xart, her Ixartxist.
Ayamani, the enigmatic Grim Reaper, remained silent, aware that Tassa possessed an intimate knowledge of Ixartxist that surpassed ordinary perception. The connection between Tassa and Ixartxist ran deep, a bond forged through shared experiences and unspoken understanding. Yet, Ixartxist continued to deny his true identity, refusing to acknowledge the connection that Tassa insisted upon.
Growing increasingly frustrated, Nia'le, the criminal who held Tassa hostage, lashed out at her persistent calls to the officer who had raised his hand. He demanded that she silence herself, but Tassa's glare met his anger head-on. Defiantly, she turned the tables, commanding him to shut up instead of succumbing to his intimidation. Ixartxist lowered his cap, a subtle signal for everyone to stand down and let them go. However, dissent lingered in the air, as one individual opposed his decision. Unfazed, Ixartxist, with a mesmerizing gaze, hypnotized the dissenting figure.
"She's a civilian, and I won't allow harm to befall her, especially at the hands of an insignificant adversary," Ixartxist declared, his voice carrying an authoritative weight. The hypnotized officer succumbed to unconsciousness, collapsing to the ground as Ixartxist stepped over him, resolute in his intent to protect Tassa.
Without glancing back at Tassa, Ixartxist led the way as they made their escape. Ayamani, the Grim Reaper, remained behind to watch over Tassa, an unexpected guardian in this surreal drama. "Wait for me, Quart. I'll gonna save you, my love, and we will be together again. I promise," Ixartxist vowed, his words lingering in the charged atmosphere.
As Nia'le and Tassa vanished into the woods behind the hospital, leaving behind the officers Ixartxist had mesmerized, a new phase of the story unfolded. Ixartxist had granted them freedom but left Ayamani with a solemn mission – to eliminate Nia'le and retrieve Tassa from the clutches of danger.
Nia'le tightly gripped Tassa's wrist, his other hand pressed against a severe wound on his shoulder. Leaning against a tree, he pulled her close, covering her mouth to check for any pursuers. Tassa, uncomfortable with his warm breath on her neck, resisted his hold.
"They're probably not following us anymore," Nia'le declared, panting. Rolling her eyes, Tassa removed his hand from her mouth. "No, they're not. Now, let me go." Reluctantly, Nia'le released her and pushed her in front of him, keeping a watchful eye.
As Tassa started to walk away, she stumbled on a large root, unintentionally creating a noise. Nia'le, alarmed, looked back to see if anyone was approaching. Finding no immediate threat, Tassa remained still, inspecting her knee for a potential new wound inflicted by the untimely stumble. Tassa, discreetly tending to her wounded knee, assured Nia'le that no one was approaching. His curiosity piqued, he questioned her certainty. "How do you know?" he inquired, his voice laced with skepticism.
"We're not far from the hospital, and I caught a glimpse of my Xart," Tassa replied, her voice filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty.
Nia'le, annoyed by the mention of Xart, questioned its relevance to their current circumstances. "What does that have to do with our situation?" he asked, his irritation evident.
Confidently, Tassa explained, "Xart is a powerful wizard who can easily track us down."
Nia'le scoffed at the idea of wizards. "Wizards don't exist, but demons do," he retorted dismissively.
Undeterred, Tassa persisted, explaining the unique abilities of her Xart. "He can even teleport himself here if he wanted to, but he didn't. He probably hate me. her voice tinged with a hint of longing and sadness.
Nia'le, seemingly uninterested in her story, turned away and walked off, paying no heed to her words. "You can go wherever you want afterward, but for now, will you come with me and assist me?" he proposed, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.
Tassa, though unable to see Nia'le's face, met his request with a contemplative gaze. After a moment of consideration, she rose to her feet, agreeing to use her healing abilities to tend to his wounds. She cautiously approached him, her steps almost faltering on the large root once again. But before she could stumble, Nia'le swiftly caught her, his hands firmly grasping her arms. As he looked into her captivating face, time seemed to stand still. For a few moments, he remained motionless, captivated by her beauty.
"You can let me go now," Tassa said, breaking the spell. Nia'le suddenly realized that he was still holding onto her, and he quickly released his grip, turning away to avoid further distraction. He attempted to avert his gaze, but his frustration got the better of him.
"Seriously? In a time like this, can't you see how big that stupid root is on the ground?" Nia'le exclaimed, his annoyance evident. He glanced back at Tassa, only to find her looking in a different direction. Irritated by her apparent disregard, he confronted her, demanding her attention.
Tassa, folding her arms, snorted in exasperation. "How despicable you are! Of course I can't see you. I'm blind, haven't you noticed?" she retorted, her frustration palpable.
Nia'le, taken aback, finally comprehended her words. "Can't you tell by looking?" he asked, hoping for some indication that she could perceive him.
"Are you deaf? I told you I can't see," Tassa replied, her tone laced with exasperation. In the dimly lit forest, Nia'le's disdainful glare met Tassa's audacious demeanor. A brewing animosity festered between them as he firmly grasped her wrist, dragging her closer. Tassa protested, urging him to be gentle, but Nia'le, consumed by his disdain, paid no heed. Hastily, they made their way back to Nia'le's home.
Unbeknownst to them, the landscape shifted as they traversed 4, 255 miles from the hospital. The enchantment of an unseen magic veiled the surroundings. The moment they stepped within its boundaries, a mysterious force transported them into an unfamiliar realm. Tassa, sensing the magic tingling on her skin, questioned Nia'le if he know about it. Unperturbed, he dismissed her inquiries, ignorant of her fascination with wizards and magic. Inside this mystical enclave, Nia'le, driven by a sense of urgency, ushered Tassa into a grand, abandoned mansion.
In the long-abandoned dwelling, Nia'le surveyed the room, a place untouched for nearly a year. Dust coated every surface, and an air of neglect hung heavily. Undeterred, he headed to a cabinet, hopeful that the medicines stored within were still viable.
His eyes carefully scanned the labels, and he meticulously checked the expiration dates. Satisfied with his findings, he gathered the supplies, arranging them on the center table in the living room. Seating himself on a worn-out couch, Nia'le turned to Tassa, urging her to fulfill the arrangement they had discussed earlier.
With a sarcastic laugh, Tassa mockingly raised her hand to her mouth, eyeing Nia'le from the corner of her eyes. "Huhuhhu," she chuckled, amused by his assumption. "What made you think that I can help you?" she inquired, her tone laced with skepticism.
Nia'le, annoyed by her response, retorted, "You're a nurse. Of course, you can help me. That's the main reason why I took you as my hostage in the first pla—no, ship! Don't tell me—"
"I'm not a nurse,"
In the dimly lit room, Tassa straightened her posture, her gaze fixed to the left as she spoke. "I am merely donning this uniform as a means to escape that wretched bastille," she confessed.
"I'm on your right, bitch!" Nia'le interjected, his frustration evident. Tassa turned her head to the right, inadvertently overlooking him. Nia'le, unfazed by her oversight, rolled his eyes in exasperation.
Tassa took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, and began to explain her predicament. "I was in the process of escaping the hospital, disguised in this uniform, until you showed up and made me your hostage," she revealed, her voice tinged with frustration.
Nia'le, feeling the weight of his mistake, admitted, "Yes, it was one of the biggest regrets I've had since discovering you aren't a nurse. Believe me."
A moment of silence hung in the air as Tassa composed herself. With determination in her eyes, she approached Nia'le, who watched her with confusion. He questioned her intentions, but Tassa remained silent, slowly lowering herself to the floor. Taking hold of Nia'le's hand, she sought out his wound.
Startled, Nia'le withdrew his hand, perplexed by her actions. He asked once more what she was doing. Tassa, her lower lip gently sucked between her teeth, replied softly, "I am doing exactly what you wanted me to do—aid you." In the hushed stillness of the room, Nia'le's skepticism lingered as Tassa, unfazed by his doubt, smiled gently. With purpose, she pressed on the wound on his lower arm, prompting a sharp cry of pain from him. Her smile persisted as she asserted, "That's how. Now I know where your wound is."
Nia'le, withdrawing his arms, shot her a cold gaze. "No ship, Sherlock! I have seven wounds in my body. Don't tell me you're going to press them all to find out where they're located?" he retorted, his tone dripping with frustration.
Taking a deep breath, Tassa responded calmly, "I may be blind, but at least I am not as foolish as you are. Just tell me where your wounds are, and I'll heal them for you, you dumbhead."
Resigned, Nia'le provided the information, and Tassa, with a determined expression, took hold of his arms. Channeling her magical abilities, she mended each of his wounds, a display of power that left Nia'le silently mesmerized. As the healing magic enveloped him, an unknown array of emotions stirred within him, and he found himself silently observing Tassa. As Nia'le's wounds closed and his body was restored to its former state, a sense of awe washed over him. He couldn't help but be impressed by Tassa's abilities, her mastery of magic evident in the way she effortlessly healed him. Questions swirled in his mind, and he found himself pondering the origins of her powers.
Recollections of his parents, both skilled in the art of magic, flooded his thoughts. Doubt crept in, causing him to question Tassa's true nature. How could she possess such extraordinary abilities? With curiosity burning within him, he turned to her and posed the question that had been nagging at him: "How can you make magic?"
Tassa, taken aback by his inquiry, stared at him with a mixture of surprise and bewilderment. Her magic was not meant to be seen by human eyes, and yet Nia'le had witnessed her healing spell. Folding her arms across her chest, she decided to redirect the conversation, posing a question of her own instead of providing a direct answer.
"You mentioned that you couldn't sense the magic that permeates this place. However, it seems you have not only seen my healing spell but also perceived its essence. Normal humans are not supposed to possess such abilities. So, I must ask in return, what are you exactly?" Tassa's voice held a hint of curiosity, her eyes searching Nia'le's for answers. In the aftermath of the healing, Nia'le inspected his now-recovered arms and retorted, "I posed one question, and you gave me two irrelevant ones."
Undeterred, Tassa pressed on, inquiring about the source of Nia'le's unique ability to perceive her magic. He settled himself before her, crossing his legs, and began to unravel the story of his family's extraordinary lineage.
"My father and mother can do the same thing. They had powers, and there was a friend with similar abilities," he confessed. Tassa absorbed this revelation with a measured silence, prompting Nia'le to clarify, "Not wizards. Demons. There are no wizards in this world, just demons. To me, they were nothing more than that."
Tassa, choosing not to challenge his beliefs, maintained her silence, allowing Nia'le to express his convictions freely. Seizing the opportunity to continue the exchange, Nia'le tilted his head and probed, "So, who taught you to use magic?"
A brief pause enveloped Tassa as a veil of melancholy draped over her demeanor. Her gaze grew heavy as she cast her eyes downward, her voice filled with gloom. "Someone taught me everything I know," she replied, her words tinged with a hint of sorrow. Nia'le, sensing her sadness, interrupted her, placing his elbow on his knee and leaning in, gently pressing his finger against her lips.
"Shhh," he hushed her, his eyes locked with hers. "I only asked who taught you, you don't really need to tell me the whole story back from the day you were born."
Tassa stared back at him, her glare piercing, as she removed his finger from her lips. "Don't ask if you don't want to know," she retorted, her voice tinged with a touch of defiance.
Nia'le, undeterred, continued the conversation, shifting the focus. "You see, we have four maxims of communication that we use," Nia'le continued to explain the four maxims of communication, counting them off on his fingers. "First, the maxim of manner, where you need to be clear. Second, the maxim of quality, ensuring truthfulness. Third, the maxim of quantity, providing enough information. And finally, the maxim of relevance or relation, staying on topic and being pertinent to the conversation."
Tassa, with a bitter smile, responded, "I'm sorry, Mr. Oral Communication, Sir," as she sat down next to Nia'le, placing her hands on her knees, attempting to appear as pleasant as possible. However, Nia'le felt a sense of discomfort and unease, subtly shifting away from her.
Undeterred, Tassa sweetly turned her head to face Nia'le and asked, "So... where did you get all your wounds, sir?" Nia'le paused for a few seconds, contemplating his response, before finally reply.
Tassa, seizing the moment, stood up and placed her finger on Nia'le's lips. "Shhh! I only asked where, not how," she whispered, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Nia'le glared at her, but she responded with a sarcastic smile. "You don't really need to tell me the whole story, back from the day you were born, ya know!" Tassa remarked.
Nia'le, clearly irritated, removed her finger from his face, his expression conveying his frustration. He stood up abruptly and began to ascend the stairs. Tassa, not willing to be left alone, called after him, "Wait, you're not gonna leave me here alone, are you?"
Nia'le paused and retorted, "Well, you're not planning to stay here, are you? You insignificant girl," his words dripping with disdain. Tassa, not one to back down, threw a fit and stood up, confronting him. "Insignificant after I heal you, you call me insignificant! You're the one who is trivial here. You can't even take care of your own wound, you frivolous guy!" she protested. Nia'le's eyes rolled dismissively as he observed Tassa's growing anger by the side table. Yet, Tassa's gaze remained fixed on him, undeterred.
Nia'le: "Now you're acting like a real bitch, and not in a hot way."
Tassa: "Really!"
Nia'le: "Yeah really, anyway, you can go wherever you want now."
Tassa: "Go where?"
Nia'le: "Go back to whatever rock you came from. I don't care, just go and flee, just don't bother me."
Tassa, revealing her vulnerability: "But I'm blind, and it's already 7 pm. How am I supposed to get out into the forest?"
Nia'le, coldly rational: "Does it ever make a difference for a blind person to walk in a day or night? No! Wanna know why? Because you can't see!"
Tassa, retorting: "Now you're acting like a badass, and not in a hot way."
Nia'le, revealing a deeper frustration: "There's only one thing that triggers me, and that could be your whole existence. Now I'm gonna say it again, leave or I'll kill you?"
Defiantly, Tassa challenged: "Kill me, try it."
Tassa, unwavering in the face of danger, embraced the concept of death as a gateway to the "Infinite Night." Her fearless demeanor stood as a stark contrast to Nia'le's calculated approach. Armed with a gun, he descended the stairs, setting the stage for a confrontation that would reveal the depths of their intertwined destinies.
The tension thickened as Nia'le pointed his gun at Tassa, a challenge hanging in the air. "Want to back out now, woman?" he taunted. Tassa, standing her ground, met his gaze with unflinching determination. "Believe me or not, but it won't work," she declared, a quiet confidence emanating from her.
Drawing closer, Nia'le proposed a bet, a gamble that would test the limits of Tassa's convictions. She agreed, steadfast in her belief that his actions would prove futile. Unperturbed, Nia'le, with a smirk on his face, took the shot. However, instead of aiming directly at Tassa, he veered to the right, shattering a vase beside her.
The shock on Tassa's face mirrored the realization that Ayamani, didn't do anything to protect her. It became apparent that Nia'le, in his own enigmatic way, hadn't truly intended to harm her. In the echoing silence of the ancient mansion, Tassa confronted Nia'le with a burning question that lingered in the air. "Why wouldn't you kill me? You had the chance while I stood there, motionless. Why didn't you do it?" Her frustration spilled into the dimly lit room.
Nia'le, with a bitter laugh, understood that Tassa was a soul teetering on the edge of a world-worn existence, seeking an escape into the abyss. Without a word, he left her standing there and continued his ascent up the staircase. Yet, Tassa's relentless inquiries pursued him.
Refusing to be silenced, she cast a spell that arrested Nia'le in his tracks. The room crackled with an otherworldly energy as she pressed him once again for an answer. Nia'le, turning to face her, seemed burdened by the weight of memories.
"I know there's something beside you. And this thing is protecting you, alright. But yes, I didn't shoot you, not because I'm afraid of him or anything," he confessed, his breath heavy with the weight of untold stories.
As he stood there, a tumultuous storm of recollections surged in Nia'le's mind. A vivid image painted itself before his eyes—a girl, hands stained with blood, a desperate struggle against overwhelming odds to save her and himself. In the midst of chaos, they became separated after a year, leaving him haunted by the absence of her presence. "I'm not a criminal. I can't kill anyone. Not an innocent one. Not even a suicidal person," Nia'le declared, his words resonating with a solemn truth that echoed through the room. Tassa, perceptive to the sincerity in his voice, acknowledged the weight of his emotions in the silent space. With a contemplative gaze, she chose to release the spell, deciding to refrain from pressing him further on the matters that lingered in her mind.
As the enchantment dissipated, Tassa began a slow and measured walk towards the door, contemplating her departure from the mysterious mansion. However, Nia'le intercepted her, abruptly halting her exit. Without giving her an opportunity to voice her thoughts, he redirected her focus.
"Prepare food instead of seeking a new home," he instructed, leaving Tassa momentarily puzzled. She turned to him, seeking answers in her gaze, but Nia'le offered no explanation. Instead, he engaged Ayamani in conversation, tasking him with assisting Tassa in the kitchen. The unexpected directive carried an air of reconciliation, as if the confrontation between them had given way to a newfound understanding.
Walking away, Nia'le continued his ascent up the staircase, leaving Tassa and Ayamani in the uncertain aftermath. He assured them of magical sustenance in the fridge, its otherworldly nature ensuring its edibility for their impending dinner.
Confused and intrigued, Tassa couldn't suppress her curiosity. "Wait, where are you going? Aren't you going to help us?" she called after him. Yet, Nia'le chose to feign deafness, disappearing into the shadows of the upper floor, leaving Tassa with a plethora of unanswered questions and a growing sense of entanglement in the enigmatic tapestry of their shared fate.
"How can he see you, Ayamani?" Tassa inquired, her curiosity directed towards the mysterious entity that seemed to be at Nia'le's beck and call.
"I don't care why he can see me; I care about how he ordered me to help you cook for his dinner," Ayamani responded, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance. Tassa couldn't help but chuckle at the spirit's apparent disgruntlement.