The days that followed were strangely quiet. The city, bustling and alive, seemed like a distant hum to Althar. He had grown accustomed to its noise, its clamor, but in his heart, something was different. A subtle shift had taken root, a shift he could no longer ignore. The longer he tried to convince himself that his emotions were nothing but a passing distraction, the more difficult it became to maintain the icy resolve he had once prided himself on.
His encounter with the woman at the tavern had unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain. The way her eyes had met his, the teasing tone in her voice—it was all so... human. So... real. And it had made something stir deep inside him. A warmth he had long since abandoned.
This cannot continue, Althar thought as he walked through the city streets once again. He needed to regain control. He needed to be the king he had always been. The cold, calculating ruler who had commanded armies and kingdoms without a single hesitation.
The path to power, he knew, had always been one of distance. Distance from others. Distance from emotions.
And yet, here he was, walking through the heart of the city, feeling... something. He had never been a man to feel doubt, but now, doubt followed him like a shadow.
He had not seen the woman again since their brief exchange at the tavern. For that, Althar was grateful. Her presence had disturbed the careful balance he had fought so hard to maintain. But despite his efforts to avoid her, her image kept resurfacing in his mind. The way she had looked at him with those penetrating violet eyes. The way her voice had softened when speaking to him. It was as though she could see through the walls he had built around himself.
No one had ever looked at him like that before. Not in his previous life, and certainly not in this new one. People had feared him. Or obeyed him. But she... she had been different.
"Perhaps that's the problem," Althar muttered to himself as he stopped at a small market stall, eyeing the goods on display. "I'm allowing myself to be distracted."
He was trying to focus on the mundane—a simple task that should have been beneath his thoughts. A loaf of bread. A bottle of water. But his mind kept wandering. The weight of it pressed down on him. This wasn't just a passing fancy. He was fighting something deep within himself. Something that he wasn't ready to confront.
As he picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter, the vendor, an older man with a crooked smile, gave him a knowing glance. "You've got the look of a man with a lot on his mind."
Althar glanced at him, then looked away. "Perhaps," he replied, his voice flat. "But it's nothing to concern yourself with."
The vendor chuckled. "That's what they all say, lad. But I know the look well. You're not from here, are you?"
Althar stiffened at the question, then relaxed his posture. "No."
"Thought so. You're carrying the weight of something, that's clear as day. But here's a bit of advice, from one wanderer to another. The weight won't go away if you don't let go of it, eventually."
Althar stared at the vendor for a moment. The words were simple, yet something about them unsettled him. Let go of it. How could he? His entire life had been built on control—control of his emotions, control of his people, control of everything around him. He couldn't simply... let go.
"I'll consider it," Althar said, paying for the bread and turning away.
The words lingered in his mind, gnawing at him, as he walked deeper into the city. Let go.
The night came swiftly, and once again, Althar found himself walking aimlessly through the city. He had no destination in mind, only the urge to escape the disquiet brewing within him. His footsteps led him through a quieter part of town, away from the bustling market and into the winding, narrow streets that seemed to breathe with a life of their own. The flickering lanterns cast long shadows, and the air was cooler here, more still.
And there, in the heart of the alley, he saw her again.
The woman.
She was standing near a small fountain, her back to him. Her golden hair shone in the soft light, her silhouette framed by the low lanterns. She hadn't noticed him yet, and for a moment, Althar simply watched her. There was something about her—something that both repelled and beckoned him.
It was like a pull he couldn't resist, a magnetic force that seemed to grow stronger each time their paths crossed. His hand tightened around the loaf of bread, a simple object that now felt like an anchor, holding him in place.
I shouldn't approach her, he thought, his mind racing. But his feet moved on their own accord, each step bringing him closer to her.
When she turned and saw him, her eyes brightened with surprise, but also something else—recognition, perhaps, or curiosity.
"You again," she said, a slight smile tugging at her lips.
Althar stopped in front of her, his usual cold composure faltering for a split second. He couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight bathed her face, how it softened her features and made her seem less like a stranger and more like someone familiar.
"I didn't expect to find you here," he said, his voice lacking the usual distance.
She raised an eyebrow. "What, do you think I only exist in crowded taverns?"
"I didn't mean it like that," he replied quickly, his usual detachment slipping. He wasn't used to this kind of back-and-forth, this casual exchange that felt strangely... human. This is dangerous.
She studied him for a moment, then nodded as though she understood something he hadn't said aloud. "You don't speak much, do you?"
Althar hesitated, but for once, he didn't care to guard his thoughts. "I do not need to."
She smiled, the expression softening her features. "Well, then, you've come all the way out here to do what? Watch the stars? Or is there something else on your mind?"
Althar felt a flicker of warmth in his chest, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he forgot to hide it. I shouldn't be feeling this way.
"I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice quieter than before. "There is something I can't shake. A feeling I can't control."
She leaned closer, her gaze thoughtful. "The world has a funny way of doing that to people. You'll either fight it, or you'll learn to live with it."
"I don't want to live with it," Althar said sharply, more vehemently than he had intended. "I can't. I can't afford to let this... weakness take over."
She didn't flinch at his words, instead standing still and silent for a moment. Then, softly, she said, "The more you fight it, the harder it gets. Trust me."
Althar opened his mouth to respond, but the words felt foreign on his tongue. Trust? He had never needed trust in his life. And yet...
The seed had been planted, and it was growing faster than he could uproot it.
He turned away from her, but even as he walked back through the narrow streets, the weight of her words pressed down on him.
The seed had been planted. And now, it was too late to turn back.