ATLANTION - LAYLA BOOK1

Part 38 Frey

The black-market streets were eerily quiet tonight, the only sounds being the distant clanging of tankards and the occasional jeering of a rowdy group. The recent end of the Dark Arena Games was being celebrated by most, but tensions were still high. The Rusted Heart was the only tavern in the area that was packed to the brim with clients. Small fights broke out over seats, leaving evidence of brawls in the form of bashed heads lying around corners. The owner's sturdy oak furniture had seen its fair share of damage over the years.

The air was thick with the mouth-watering scent of butter-roasted piglets that spread from the fire pits in the back. The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the tense atmosphere.

Unofficial houses were taking bets on which Master Noir would disembody first in his twisted thirst for revenge. Most hoped he would start with their Magic Guild Master, and with the coming of a fresh one, taxes on black magic would lower.

"Let's hope, hope, hope!" cheered a pack of goblins, polishing their vast pints of beer.

Here at the Rusted Heart, shadows and music covered many dirty deals, and cloaked figures planned their misdeeds. The low-hanging lanterns bathed the room in a warm, orange glow, casting dark shadows on the faces of the patrons.

Frey scanned the crowd, his sharp senses picking up on the whiff of urine, beer, and alcohol. But amidst the rotten aromas of this place, he could still smell her - the scent that had enraptured him from the first day they met. The warm, musky smell of her hair mixed with the sweet scent of her perfume, making his heart skip a beat. He longed to catch a whiff of it amidst the stench.

He had betrayed the one who had saved him. But as is often the case, the pull of a beautiful woman had led him astray.

Today, he was spying on her, and he enjoyed it.

"I wonder if she'll ever notice my humble affection for her," he thought.

Churel Una was present tonight, her sickly pale face tinted yellow. The old crone watched her every move, dreading the moment when Noir would remember to punish her. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for her mistress. Her bony hands trembled, and she prayed that nobody would recognize her from the recent events in the Dark Arena.

"You stupid little thing," spat the short figure bundled in a purple cloak. The newcomer sat across from her, and Churel's eyes lowered.

"I gave you a simple task - to eliminate the inconvenient offspring - and what did you do? You created a real calamity and got a Chaos hunter on our backs?"

"I...I did..." Churel Una stammered.

"You might as well ring the queen Nimiane herself and ask her opinion. You had to kill the girl and get your reward."

"My lady, these days, so many girls color their hair blue. You know very well that someone hid her. Not even Lord Kai knew where she was, my lady. So I thought, if I could eliminate them all..." mumbled Una, bending her frame as a metal cane crashed against her side with a loud smash.

In the distance, a mournful melody floated through the air, adding to the already tense atmosphere. The sound of a lone violin being played with expert skill filled the tavern.

"In all the years you were under Noir's thumb, your brain has shrunk. Now go back, destroy that girl if you want your beauty and freedom back. She is on the islands of fire, the realm of the Dark Duke."

With these words, she departed. A woman's chuckle blended with the tavern music, and the trim of her cloak left a dim trail of salt and thin sand.

Churel Una's sharp claw nails dug into the softwood, leaving light brown claw marks on the greasy black surface.

"I will eat her alive. Then I will come after your flesh, mistress."

Frey shuddered when his eyes met the wench's burning gaze. Did she recognize him?

He absentmindedly swirled his finger through the dense fog that clung to his cold mug of beer. The red ink from the pen he had been using earlier slowly dissolved into the golden liquid, creating a swirling pattern that mesmerized him for a moment. Suddenly, his skin prickled with warmth that quickly turned into an intense burning sensation. He gasped for air, but his lungs felt constricted, preventing him from taking in a full breath. Panic set in as he tried to scream for help, but no sound escaped his throat. He could feel warm liquid filling his mouth, and he knew it was poison.

When had he been poisoned? His mind raced as he desperately searched for a solution to save himself, but he came up with nothing. His head fell heavily onto the table, and he could no longer feel the impact.

A familiar voice whispered in his ear, and he recognized it instantly. "I will dance on your grave, you dog. Did you really think I wouldn't recognize your stench following me?" The sweet scent of her perfume mixed with the smell of his vomit, and he knew he was done for.

As he took his last breath, he couldn't help but wonder how it had all gone so wrong. The woman he had loved had betrayed him in the worst way possible, and he was left to die alone. He had known the risks of playing with fire, but his heart had chosen the poisonous flower, and now he was paying the ultimate price.