The room was shrouded in a damp gloom, the smell of mold and filth clinging to the air. The ragged bed, where Layla and Gonny sat, creaked with every movement, as if protesting the weight of the two.
The nearly extinguished old candles cast flickering shadows, creating an atmosphere that seemed alive yet lifeless at the same time. Layla looked at Gonny, her brown eyes now shining with a determination the old woman had never seen before.
— I'm leaving, Miss Gonny — Layla said, her voice firm but laden with a sadness she couldn't hide. — I can't take this anymore. I can't take Jorvihan, this alley, this life... I wasn't born for this.
Gonny frowned, the deep wrinkles on her face becoming even more pronounced under the dim candlelight. She looked at Layla with a mix of concern and admiration.
The young woman sitting beside her was no longer the same girl who had arrived in the alley months ago, hopeless and defeated. There was something different about her now, something Gonny couldn't name, but that sent a chill down her spine.
— And what do you intend to do, my child? — Gonny asked, her voice rough yet soft, like the whisper of the wind. — Aren't you afraid of what you might find out there? And this person... this "him" you mentioned... how can you be so sure he isn't worse than what you have here?
This world was not an easy place, especially when it came to finding people one could trust. Even a simple old woman, with her everyday wisdom, knew that. It didn't take great knowledge or experience to understand that loyalty was a rare treasure, almost like a small island in a vast ocean of dangers and betrayals.
Layla hesitated for a moment, her fingers playing with a loose thread from the ragged bedcover. She thought of Eigan, of that magical aura he carried, of the way his words seemed to soothe something inside her she hadn't even known existed. No, he wasn't like Jorvihan. He wasn't like anyone she had ever met before.
— I'm not afraid, Miss Gonny — Layla finally answered, lifting her gaze to meet the old woman's eyes. — The only fear I have is never seeing my family again. But if I stay here, I'll never be able to find them. And I'll die in this alley, like so many others. He... he offered me a chance. A chance to leave this place, to see the world, to be free. I can't waste that!
Gonny watched her in silence, her dark eyes reflecting the unsteady candlelight. There was a deep sadness in her gaze, but also a pride she couldn't hide. She reached out her wrinkled, trembling hand and placed it over Layla's.
— You are brave, my child — Gonny said, her voice now barely a whisper. — Braver than I ever was. I just hope the world out there is kind to you.
Layla smiled, a sad smile, yet filled with hope. She squeezed Gonny's hand, feeling the warmth of the old woman even through her cold, rough skin.
— I will come back, Miss Gonny — Layla promised, her voice firm once more. — When I'm free, when I've found my family, I will come back and take you away from here too.
Gonny didn't reply. She only smiled, a gentle, tired smile, as the candles finally went out, plunging the room into darkness.
When Layla fell asleep that night, it was with the image of Eigan in her mind and the promise of a future she could barely imagine.
He had said something to her earlier that day. "...at the merchant's house" Something like that.
And when the first light of dawn slipped through the small hole in the wall, Layla was no longer in the alley.
***
Since the dreams began, everything felt different for Jon. It was always the same vision: him, flying over a dense forest, a fire in the distance, and a boy with red eyes standing in a clearing, surrounded by the bodies of dead men and women. It was terrifying, and yet, in some way, it made Jon feel... awake. As if something untamed inside him was breaking free.
It wasn't the first time he had recurring dreams; he had often dreamt of the crypts. But ever since he had this new dream—where he soared through the sky and saw the red-eyed boy—it had become persistent.
Now, there was Jon, standing at the center of the training yard, just him and Robb, the biting wind, and their wooden swords. No one was there to watch, to interrupt, or to laugh at his mistakes or defeats. This was his chance—perhaps the last—to face Robb without pressure. Without those damned eyes on him.
Robb was there with that same playful grin, the kind that made Jon think, "Are you going to lose again, Jon?" How many times had he tasted the bitter sting of defeat here? But this time, something felt different. Jon was stronger, faster. Those dreams, somehow, had changed him.
— Ready for me to kick your ass again, brother? — Robb twirled his sword as if it were just a game, and for a moment, Jon almost believed that's all it was to him. Though, perhaps it was just Robb's way of motivating him.
Jon smiled—a small, challenging smile.
— If I were you, I wouldn't be so sure of myself. — His words came out sharp, almost without him realizing it. — Maybe I'll be the one to surprise you.
Robb raised an eyebrow.
— Surprise me? Like that time you threw yourself on the ground thinking I'd fall into your trap? — He laughed.
Jon swallowed the comment but stepped forward. The first exchanges of blows felt almost like a dance—fast, but controlled. Robb was taking this seriously, and Jon could see that he was no longer being treated lightly.
— Are you even trying, Jon? — Robb teased, dodging a strike that Jon wasn't even sure he could pull off. — From the looks of it, I should have brought armor!
Jon kept his smile, trying to hide his nerves.
— More than you, apparently. — He truly had no idea where this confidence was coming from. — But don't worry, I'll still let you walk away with some dignity today.
Robb laughed, but his strikes became faster and stronger. To Jon's surprise, he was keeping up. And Robb, perhaps, was even more surprised.
In the end, with a move Jon wasn't sure he could ever replicate, he threw Robb off balance. His brother fell to the ground, and Jon's sword stopped just an inch from his chest. Jon froze for a moment, trying to grasp if this was real.
Robb blinked, still on the ground, and after a moment, he smiled—a touch of respect and surprise in his expression.
— Looks like my brother really decided to humiliate me today.
Jon chuckled, relieved.
— Just returning the favor.
Robb laughed too, and finally, Jon felt that his training was paying off. And to him, that mattered just as much as winning.
— Want some advice, Robb? — Jon paused, moving his sword away from his brother's chest and stepping back a little. — Maybe if you spent less time with the maidens and more with your sword, you wouldn't be lying there now. I might end up surpassing you.
Robb gave him a mock-offended look and laughed.
— You know, if you weren't my brother, I'd say you sound jealous!
Jon shivered slightly, froze, and felt a tightness in his chest. He distanced himself from everything in front of him. "Again... Again?" he muttered in his mind, restless. A mix of emotions overwhelmed him until he heard Robb calling his name—again and again.
— Jon... Jon? What's wrong, Jon?
Robb's voice sounded concerned, and slowly, Jon's focus returned to him.
— Nothing... Don't worry.
He ran a hand over the back of his neck and, with a subtle sigh, twirled his sword the same way Robb had done before, continuing:
— Me? Jealous? — Jon made a face, then smiled, hiding the turmoil he had felt moments before. — Never. I'm just sparing you the humiliation... Someone has to keep Robb Stark's pride intact.
Robb stood up, letting his concern fade, and for a moment, they remained there, laughing like two fools. It had been a long time since they had done this—like this.
— Why don't we head to the spring? — Robb asked, stretching his muscles and dusting himself off.
Jon nodded, also wanting to relax his body after the training... and the thoughts.
***
I glanced at him sideways as we walked through the bustling streets, where the stalls exuded the same familiar scent as always. The sun was beginning to hide behind the uneven stone buildings, and a cool, almost liberating breeze brushed against my face.
With each step away from that filthy alley, far from the place that had nearly broken me, relief filled my chest like a silent scream. The sound of my worn boots against the uneven stone ground seemed to sing: freedom, freedom, freedom. I didn't look back. I didn't want to see. But I also didn't know what to expect ahead. It was unsettling not to feel anything on my wrists—neither the visible ropes nor the invisible ones.
— Are you taking me to where you live? — I asked, trying to sound casual, even though the idea of relying on him made me uneasy. I didn't want to seem vulnerable, like before, but the truth was that I was navigating uncharted waters.
And depending on someone younger than me? Well, he only looks...
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression serene, as if I had asked the most obvious thing in the world.
— More or less. I'm taking you to someone trustworthy. The merchant.
The merchant? Of course. Given his magical abilities, I would have bet he lived in some dark hole, surrounded by moldy books and glowing potions. But a merchant? That piqued my curiosity.
— Are we close to arriving?— I pressed, unable to hide my impatience.
— Less than you think, more than you'd like. — He smirked.
— So helpful. — I muttered, rolling my eyes, but I noticed he heard me when I saw him chuckle slightly.
Silence fell between us for a moment, and before I could stop myself, the words slipped out.
— Thank you… for getting me out of there.
What was I thinking, saying that? I knew he hadn't done it for me but because he wanted something in return. Still, the gratitude was there, heavy in my chest. Maybe I needed to say it to accept my new reality.
Eigan didn't reply. But his silence had weight, almost like an answer in itself. It was different from the emptiness I expected; it felt full of thoughts, of understanding. Strangely, that brought me comfort. Maybe, just maybe, he and I would get along after all.
Setting aside the fact that he is so... Unique? I don't even know how to label him. And for now, it was just him and me, bound by a thread of mutual benefit.
When we arrived at his so-called friend's house, I was met with a massive, reinforced wooden door, with metal details that reflected the last light of the day.
Eigan knocked as if he owned the place, and within seconds, the door opened, revealing a man with a rather ordinary appearance, yet adorned with extravagant rings, each one bearing a gemstone larger than the last. He gave me an assessing look, as if trying to determine my worth.
— Is she your slave? — He asked, smirking, as if I were a piece of meat hanging on a rack.
Oh, how fun.
I crossed my arms and clicked my tongue, trying to contain my indignation and resignation, but before I could say anything, Eigan stepped forward. His gaze was so piercing that I could almost feel the air vibrating around him. The merchant backed away, murmuring apologies while nervously fiddling with his rings.
It was hard to hold back a laugh.
So, Eigan had this kind of authority? Not just respect, but enough to intimidate a merchant. A grown man, taller and much broader than him. Pathetic… and hilarious.
— This is Xhalor, my… friend. — Eigan said, making a face that revealed how irritating it was to say that. — And this is Layla… my friend, Xhalor.
"Friend." He dragged out the word as if carefully choosing each syllable. It wasn't just the relief of not being called a slave or "his." It was more than that. It was human. After so long being treated as an object by nearly everyone.
Although the way he treated me wasn't quite like Mrs. Gonny's—who was more of a protector—Eigan was still close to that… A friend.
Xhalor's house was big and well-kept. It had a cozy atmosphere, but the people inside didn't share that feeling. The merchant's wife shot me a look as if I were some kind of plague, while the children analyzed me with the cruel curiosity of those who had never seen someone in their home who looked like they had just come from the streets. ...I really did come from the streets.
The woman glanced at the man, and I was sure he would have to listen to some complaints later. Because of me.
Xhalor murmured something to her, his voice low, but his tone unmistakable. He was trying to calm her down, but her expression showed clear disapproval. She shot me a quick glance, as if I were the cause of all the world's problems, before grabbing Xhalor by the arm and dragging the children to another room.
I looked at Eigan, crossing my arms.
— I guess I'm not welcome here — I said, trying to keep my voice firm, but unable to completely hide my discomfort.
Eigan shrugged, a small, playful smile appearing on his lips.
— They'll get used to it — he replied, as if this were normal.
I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, a low sound of quick footsteps caught my attention. My eyes instinctively moved to the floor, where a dark blur appeared, rushing toward us. I took a step back, surprised and slightly startled, as the small creature approached.
Eigan, however, didn't seem disturbed. He just smiled, as if he had been expecting it.
When the small creature finally stopped at his feet, I could see it clearly. It was a pup. But not a normal dog. No, it was a wolf! A wolf pup, with dark fur and bright eyes that seemed to carry an unusual spark of intelligence.
But what surprised me the most was the aura emanating from him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A magical aura, similar to Eigan's, just as he had explained to me before.
— What is that? — I asked, eyes wide, as the pup rubbed its snout against Eigan's legs, like a dog begging for affection.
Eigan looked at me, that same smile still on his face.
— Oh, you noticed his aura, huh? — he said, with a calm, almost innocent expression. — This is Shadow. My wolf pup.
— Your… what? — I choked, unable to believe what I was hearing.
He laughed, running a hand over the wolf's head.
— Yeah, I probably should've mentioned that earlier, huh? I forgot…
— You forgot?! — I nearly shouted, throwing my hands up in exasperation. — How do you forget to mention that you have a wolf pup? A MAGIC WOLF PUP?!
Eigan shrugged again, as if we were discussing something trivial, like the weather.
— Didn't seem relevant before — he said, with a casualness that made me even more irritated.
— Doesn't that seem relevant? — I repeated, incredulous. — It's like forgetting to mention that the sky isn't green!
He laughed again, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of frustration. But at the same time, there was something about this whole situation that made me let out an involuntary chuckle. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all, or maybe it was the way Eigan seemed so unbothered, as if having a magical wolf was the most normal thing in the world.
Shadow looked at me, tilting his head to the side, as if he were trying to understand me.
I asked, feeling both nervous and embarrassed.
— Does he bite? — I saw him raise an eyebrow and then laugh.
Damn it, is this funny to him?
— Are you gonna keep laughing, or are you gonna answer?!!
He laughed a little louder and then, seeing my slight scowl, he finally spoke:
— Sorry, I didn't think you'd react like the kids… It's your inner child, is that what they call it? — he chuckled again. — Maybe yes, maybe no… It depends on him and his mood.
I huffed, scowling. "That tells me nothing!!" Well, might as well try. If anything happens, I'll blame him for it.
I hesitated for a moment, but then I crouched down, slowly extending my hand. The pup sniffed my fingers before rubbing his snout against my hand, making me let out a soft laugh.
— He's… unexpected — I admitted, looking at Eigan.
— Like many things in life — he replied, with a gleam in his eyes that made me think he wasn't just talking about the wolf.
I couldn't help but smile. Maybe, in the end, I was starting to get used to the surprises Eigan brought with him. And, who knows, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.
It didn't take long for Eigan to lightly touch my shoulder, almost making me jump in fright. I calmed down when I realized he wanted to talk. He guided me through immaculate hallways, passing tapestries and furniture that seemed to perfectly reflect Xhalor's personality. The scent of the place was comforting, like polished wood and dried herbs. Then, in a more serious tone, he started speaking as we climbed the steps.
— There's someone else here. A woman. But... she prefers to stay in her room almost all day, so you'll rarely see her. — He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. — She is... Well, she likes to be alone.
Something in his tone made me raise my eyebrows. There was more to that story than he was willing to tell, and the careful way he spoke made me think he had some kind of connection to her. One day, I would ask, but for now, there was too much to take in and process.
When we entered the room, a feeling of familiarity and relief took me by surprise. It had been so long since I had been somewhere I could call "hospitable." And well, it was much more hospitable than my old room.
I was used to sleeping in a filthy place where rats roamed as if they owned it. It didn't bother me anymore. But here I was, in a simple yet peaceful room. Two worn wooden chairs, a table beside a small window that let in the fresh air, and a bed against the stone wall that, somehow, brought me a sense of comfort I hadn't felt in years. I took a deep breath, leaning against the cold wall, taking that moment to ask what troubled me the most.
— So... what's the next step? Our- …Our next step. — I quickly corrected myself. Now I was part of his "adventure," at least that's what he liked to call it.
— Do you know how to read maps? — he asked in a calm voice.
Of course not, I'm a peasant, but I didn't want to admit it. It was embarrassing. I just shook my head in denial.
— But you can read, right? — he insisted, his gaze piercing.
— Yes, I can... Where are you going with this? — I replied, a little too loudly out of impatience. — I know a little, but not enough.
He gave a slight smirk and walked over to the table, where a map was already unrolled, as if that was the perfect place for him to be. He gestured for me to come closer. So, was that it? He wanted to show me where we were going? At least he was being less mysterious now!
I stepped forward until I was near him and the table. My gaze followed the tip of his finger as he slid it across the map, passing through the city of Qohor, until... Valyria?
— Valyria? — I repeated in a low voice, trying to understand if he had really marked the right place.
— Yes — his answer was quick and direct.
A chill ran down my spine. Valyria, the ancient city of the dragonlords. I knew about it. Even peasants like me knew the stories, the old stories. The Doom of Valyria, the cursed place no one dared to approach, the land of ruins, flames, and mysteries. Damn, I should have expected something like this from him. But I still had to ask.
— Why... Why that place? What do you want there? Do you have any idea about the countless legends of people who went and never returned? Or those who got close and barely survived? — I couldn't help it, I almost shouted in frustration. I needed to understand what was going on in this strange boy's head.
— "Why that place?" Because it's necessary! — he raised an eyebrow, surprised at my reaction. — Why are you acting like this?
"Necessary," I thought. What could possibly be necessary in a cursed place, where ancient sorcerers and dragons had left their marks? What could he want there?
— Because it's a place no one dares to go unless they're crazy enough. What do you want there? — I asked, my frustration growing in my voice.
He laughed at my agitation, as if it was amusing to see my hesitation. Fear. Confusion. Agony. Or all at once.
— I have my reasons. I want to see what's there for me. And besides, I'm a mage. Why would I fear something that might be a little like me?
My mouth opened slightly. The memory of the fireball, the firebird he had conjured, surfaced. I scoffed at myself. Why was I so scared? What else could I see there that would be more confusing and unbelievable than him?
— Alright, shit... you're right. — I sighed, frustrated, letting myself fall into the chair. He had a way of making me agree with him that was almost comical.
I looked at the map again, and there it was—Valyria, with all its promises of horror and nightmare. Some time ago, I was just doing chores with my family. I never thought I would live through something like this.
I looked at Eigan, and he was there, so serene, as if everything was just normal. Was this all simple for him? How could he be so... normal and strange at the same time? Of course, he was a mage. The term still gave me a mix of disbelief and, deep down, way deep down, a bit of admiration. Something I tried to suppress.
He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, letting those dark eyes get lost in the small window, the silence between us lingering until I decided to break it again.
— Are you really going to do what I asked? — I whispered, the words coming out lower than I intended.
I wanted Jorvihan to die. To feel the fear he had caused me and so many others. It wasn't just him, but he was the most reachable target at the moment.
Maybe it was madness to ask a young man to kill a grown adult, but something about Eigan told me he wasn't the type to struggle with something like this. As if it were easy for him.
Easy to kill someone?
Could I kill a person?
Would I have the same expression he had while listening to my request?
And if I did, would I handle it as calmly as he did?
What he showed me seemed only the surface, and something told me he would do anything if he wanted to. Without fear. Without hesitation.
Was it because of these abilities? This power? Or was it something more?
— It won't be difficult — he answered without hesitation. — Are you worried about something?
I shook my head quickly. Of course, I wasn't. Or was I? I no longer knew what to think.
— Should I be? You are... Well, I'm still trying to accept this.
He laughed, amused by my confusion.
We kept talking for a while. He told me more about himself. His power and its uses. Every little thing he said left me more surprised.
— It's incredible how you can use magic to enhance your strength. — I commented, impressed.
— What's incredible is how you always believe me without question. — He chuckled, entertained.
— After what I saw... That fireball turning into a firebird? It's hard not to believe! — I laughed nervously. — I spent too much time around liars, but you... you were the first real thing I found capable of this.
He smiled—a rare kind of smile, but a genuine one.
— We're going to share this space — he said suddenly, breaking the silence.
I raised an eyebrow, surprised.
— And what's the brilliant idea behind that?
— There are no spare rooms. — he replied, his tone calm.
— Don't you dare- — I was cut off before I could continue.
— You take the bed. I, unfortunately, will make do with the floor.
I couldn't help but laugh, feeling more relieved than I expected.
— Now you're saying something I like to hear.
I realized I was starting to actually trust him. I didn't know if that was a smart decision or complete stupidity, but for now, it felt right. He made it feel right.
— After all, you still haven't told me how you ended up here as a slave. I assume it wasn't some foolish attempt to run away from home gone wrong!? So... Would you tell me this time?
His question made my posture stiffen. I hesitated for a moment before speaking.
— I was caught stealing — The words came out laced with regret. — Everyone knows commoners are punished for stealing. Everyone is… — I looked at the ground as I hugged myself. — In the North, if a noble catches you stealing, you're punished in front of everyone, for all to see. An example for all! And it was all because of some damn sacks of potatoes. I just wanted to help my siblings, my parents, but a lord caught me and locked me up. And instead of judging me as he should have, he… That bastard brought me to Essos. He acted like a hunter, and I was [...] his prey. I spent some time in the Slaver's Bay until an old lady taught me a little Valyrian. They wanted a slave who could understand their orders. Then, I was sold and ended up here, in the city of Qohor...
Eigan was silent, listening carefully, not showing much reaction or discomfort. I didn't expect pity from him, but telling this brought me an unexpected relief. It was the first time I had openly spoken about it with anyone. Not even with Miss Gonny…
— A lord? — he repeated, curious. — Who?
— He- He is... The Lord of Bear Island, Jorah Mormont. — The name slipped from my lips almost involuntarily, and I noticed the quick shift in Eigan's expression, as if, just by hearing it, a certain kind of interest had sparked.
— Oh — was all he said, but his gaze changed, as if he was connecting dots in his mind.