Damian

The moon hung high above the elven city of Liriendel, casting its silvery glow on the leaf-dappled paths that wove between the intricate, timber-framed buildings. The air was imbued with the scents of night-blooming flowers, mingling with the faint aroma of woodsmoke and roasted nuts. As I trudged through the elven city, my legs felt like they were made of lead, which was ironic considering I had no memories at all to weigh them down.

"This is fantastic," I sighed, gazing up at the myriad of twinkling stars above. "Just a perfect night to get lost... in an even bigger way."

"Damian, this isn't the time for your jokes," Misha muttered beside me, adjusting his satchel as we moved further down the winding street. His worry lines deepened with every passing moment. The shadows of the towering elven architecture seemed to loom ominously over him, like the weight of the task we were undertaking.

We had been wandering for hours now, seeking out a sorceress that Eunora had insisted we find. Mienna was supposed to reside here, in this breathtaking city of luminescent flowers and ethereal trees, yet no one had seen her - or at least would admit to it. A city so vibrant and alive, yet her absence felt like a haunting specter in the air.

"Why doesn't anyone know where the sorceress is?" I asked, a hint of frustration creeping into my voice. My memories might have been a swirling mist, but my humor remained intact. "You'd think someone as powerful as Mienna would leave a trail of stardust behind her or at least a mail-forwarding notice."

Misha's brows knitted together in concern, his brows furrowing like the petals of a wilting flower. "I... I don't know, Damian. My master said she should be in Liriendel. It's bewildering!"

"Bewildering? I'd call it maddening," I muttered under my breath, my lips twisting in a playful grin. Misha shot me an incredulous look, and I shrugged. "Keep searching for a name worth pondering. It just might be a stimulating pastime for those of us with slightly less stressful occupations."

Misha shrugged, exasperation contorting his expression. "I don't know, Damian. Perhaps she's casting a spell to stay hidden. Or maybe she just-" His voice trailed off as he glanced around at the towering trees that guarded Liriendel, lost in thought, his fingers twisting nervously at his robe's hem. Then a sigh escaped his lips, his brow knitting in concern. "Maybe she... Maybe she's gone under a different name?"

"A nickname, perhaps? Like 'Sorceress of the Silvery Veil'?" I chimed, trying to keep the mood light.

He didn't smile. Instead, he looked genuinely perturbed. "Or maybe she's in hiding? What if she's... what if she's lost her powers? What if-"

"Whoa there, forest dweller," I interrupted, gently stopping him. "Let's save the 'What if's for another time. Right now, my greatest worry is where we're going to sleep tonight. This city looks like it could either swallow us whole or offer us a lovely night's rest. Either way, I'd like to find out soon."

Misha's eyes darted across the road until they landed on an inn, its wooden sign swinging gently in the night breeze. The words "Haldir's Haven" were carved in elegant script, glowing softly with a warm, golden hue. "That one! Haldir's Haven!" he exclaimed, voice tinged with hope. He practically bounded across the street, excitement briefly eclipsing his anxiety.

I followed, chuckling to myself. "What's so special about this place? Think it has a spa? Or perhaps it's hiding the secrets of the universe behind its walls?"

"Whatever it has, it'll be an upgrade from our explorations in the streets," Misha quipped back, finally managing a smile. "Perhaps we can also ask the innkeeper about the sorceress?"

"Sounds like a plan," I said, already starting to stroll in that direction. "Besides, we can't really find answers on empty stomachs, can we?"

As we stepped inside, I was enveloped by a warmth that felt almost tangible. The elven inn was bathed in soft, golden light from numerous lanterns hung artfully around the room. The scent of roasted herbs filled the air, and faint laughter danced from the corners where patrons were gathered. It felt so cozy that I might have collapsed right there out of sheer contentment.

"Whoever runs this place sure knows their costumers," I murmured, feeling a sense of peace.

I leaned casually against the polished wooden counter, admiring the craftsmanship that had gone into every detail - from the intricately carved bar to the delicate vine patterns climbing the walls; a playful smirk danced on my lips, while Misha stood beside me, his brow furrowed in concern as he nervously fiddled with his robes.

"Is this your first time in Liriendel?" I asked him, gesturing to the dimly lit entrance. "You look like a wizard who just stepped out of a spell gone wrong."

Misha gave me an exasperated look. "Damian, stop making jokes. We need a place to stay."

"What jokes?" I offered him a wan smile, hoping to ease the tension clinging to his shoulder like an unwelcome cloak. "And also, something tells me your shaman blessings won't help us find a place to rest tonight," I said, my tone lilting with playful banter.

Misha shot me a side glance, the corners of his mouth slightly tugging upwards. "I might not be able to summon a bed, but I can at least make sure your dreams are pleasant."

As we exchanged jokes, the door swung open with the creak of ancient wood and the bright glow of a lantern illuminating the entrance. In walked a glowing figure, an elven man. With his golden hair cascading like sunlight and piercing emerald eyes that sparkled with knowing, he had an ethereal grace about him. His presence was both regal and comforting, an aura that suggested he had seen many springs and winters pass.

"Welcome to Haldir's Hearth, travelers!" Haldir proclaimed, his voice warm and welcoming, a voice that could soothe even the most troubled of minds. "Forgive my delay; the inn has seen quite the rush lately. I am Haldir, the innkeeper. What brings you to Liriendel on such a fine night?"

"Not just to admire your splendid establishment," I replied with a cheeky grin. "But the hospitality too - right, Misha?"

"Uh, yes! Hospitality!" Misha echoed, his voice a little too bright to be genuine.

Haldir raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his green eyes. It was nice to see him chuckle at my absurdity; I could feel Misha's tension easing a fraction. "Well, what can I do for a pair of lovely souls?"

I rolled my shoulder and leaned forward, grinning. "About that. We were actually in the midst of contemplating how to juggle sleeping in the outdoors versus the comfort of your fine establishment. You know, wine with bugs and rocks or stew by the hearth?"

Haldir chuckled, his laughter like the tinkling of bells. "It sounds like you prefer the latter choice. However, I must apologize, for our rooms are packed. Many human survivors have taken refuge here since the attacks from a month ago began. I am afraid, on a night like this, you may have to forgo privacy."

My heart sank momentarily as I remembered the whispers of merchants who passed through town, their tales of monsters looming under the watchful shadows of the Elysian Forest, terrorizing settlements. I glanced at Misha, whose brow twitched with concern. "Are there truly no available rooms?" he asked, voice tight with apprehension.

"There is one room," Haldir replied, a note of hesitation in his tone. "It has four beds, but it is currently occupied by just one person. Would you be willing to share?"

I looked at Misha, weighing the absurdity of the situation against the practicality of the offer. "I'm okay with it," I said decisively. "What about you, Misha? How do you feel about playing 'Roomies' with a stranger? I promise to keep my jokes to a minimum!" I raised my hands in mock surrender with a playful grin.

Misha sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a touch. "I suppose it's better than sleeping in the rain. And as long as your jokes don't go too far, I think we'll manage."

"Fear not," I declared with mock seriousness. "My mood to crack a joke is melodic. Like a nightingale, if the nightingale had just downed a barrel of ale."

Haldir was grinning again, illuminating his features, and the tension slowly unwound in the room. "You two have quite the camaraderie. Very well, I shall fetch you the keys," he said, and reached beneath the counter and produced two beautifully crafted metal keys adorned with intricate engravings of vines. "This will be your entry to one of the coziest rooms in Liriendel, I assure you." He handed them to me, and I felt the cool metal against my palm.

Haldir then called someone over, it was a man, a young human helper, who seemed to have been busy stacking empty mugs behind the bar. "Kian, dear boy! Please escort our new guests to their room." Kian approached us, his demeanor calm and stoic, a mean feat for someone who had been inundated with so many frantic guests.

"Right this way," Kian said, gesturing toward a staircase at the back of the inn. I followed him, glancing back at Misha, who still looked more like a walking worry than a confident apprentice.

We ascended the wooden narrow flight of stairs, the wooden steps creaking slightly underfoot. Kian led us down a corridor lined with paintings of Liriendel in its prime. Yet, amidst the reassuring atmosphere of the inn, I couldn't shake the sense of curiosity about our mysterious room's occupant. Misha kept fidgeting beside me, adjusting the collar of his cloak repeatedly as if it would somehow fortify him against the unknown.

"Here we are," Kian announced, pausing before a door carved with swirling designs that seemed alive in the flickering light of the oil lamps. I couldn't help but grin as he pushed the door open.

The room was cozy and inviting, strange yet familial, as if I'd stepped into a dream. Four beds adorned with silken sheets awaited us on either side, and I chuckled to myself, wondering how many puns could be made about inn-keeping and the "in-numerable" number of beds we would need. My eyes scanned the room, noticing a wooden table sitting in the center, its surface marked with the etchings of years gone by, and there was an old but sturdy wardrobe, indicating that it had likely housed many weary travelers before us. But my attention was drawn to the figure sprawled across one of the beds, brandishing his blade with the ease of an old friend.

I hesitated, taking in the man's formidable presence. Scars crisscrossed his body like a roadmap of forgotten battles, and his intense gaze slashed through the dim light like his blade through the air. Misha, the ever anxious one, walked a careful step behind me as he drew in a sharp breath, his eyes wide with a mixture of fascination and intimidation.

"This is the person Mister Haldir mentioned," Kian said, stepping inside as if unfazed by the sight of the intimidating figure. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to call for us." And with that, he left the room with a polite bow.

The mysterious man's eyes met mine, and the smooth, confident way he flicked his blade made Misha pale beneath his freckled skin. I couldn't suppress my instinctive curiosity. "Well, aren't you a slice of intrigue! You look like you've fought more battles than a dragon at a buffet!"

Misha shot me a look, wide-eyed and concerned. The last thing he needed was to provoke a scarred warrior. So, I pressed lightly, "Not many folks can say they have a sword and a backstory that's just itching to be shared, eh?"

Surprisingly, the terror that loomed in the air lessened, and a grin cracked the stone-like demeanor of the man. "You have a way with words, stranger," he replied, his voice deep yet warm. "You may call me Ardoc. And you, witty one?"

"Why, I'm Damian," I responded, stepping forward with an exaggerated bow. And with a dramatic flourish, I added, "Not a scar on me, but I assure you I'm ninety percent charm and forty percent bread - though I'm working on the math!"

Ardoc chuckled, the edges of his lips curving into a smile that transformed his intimidating facade into something more approachable. I noted the way the light caught the scars on his arms - each a testament to battles fought, yet his demeanor was anything but aggressive.

Misha, still looking very unsure, managed to squeeze out, "I-I'm Misha, a shaman's apprentice," he stammered, a mixture of fascination and fear swirling behind his eyes as he avoided eye contact.

"Important job. Someone has to keep the spirits happy - can't let them crash the party, right?" I winked, trying to ease the tension that blanketed Misha.

"So, what brings you two to this humble inn?" Ardoc asked, leaning back against his bed with a casual ease.

"Lost in all the festival joy!" I exclaimed. "You see, my past is a curious mystery wrapped in riddles and topped with a cherry of absurdity. So we're just adventuring in search of... something!"

Ardoc smiled at my theatrics, while Misha only looked more concerned.

After a bit of small talk, the air grew lighter, with Ardoc revealing bits of his life as a mercenary. To my surprise, the feared warrior was kind-hearted, recounting tales of his travels, albeit while wincing at the memories each scar carried. Once settled after our short, delightful meeting, Misha and I decided we should scuttle back downstairs to experience the local cuisine.

"Let's eat!" I exclaimed suddenly, breaking the reverie. "I can hear my stomach grumbling louder than a grumpy ogre! Would you gentleman care to join us?"

"I'm good," Ardoc said, nodding his head in rejection as he shuffled into his calm nature.

As we moved to exit the room, I turned back to Ardoc, my thoughts a flurry of new friendships. "Goodbye, Ardoc! May our paths cross again, preferably before a feast and definitely not under the cover of night in a dark alley!"

Misha stood frozen, his apprehension evident on his face. "C'mon, we need to go," he muttered, edging towards the door, wishing to avoid confrontation with the imposing figure still relaxing on the bed.

"Wait a minute! You can't just leave without saying goodbye properly!" I chimed. Misha glared at me, an expression of pure exasperation etched across his freckled face. It was adorable, though I dared not mention that.

Misha's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, making him look more like a runaway apple than a confident apprentice. "Do I have to?"

"Yes! It's polite," I urged, casting a look at Ardoc, who was watching with quiet amusement.

"Goodbye," Misha huffed, barely directing it at Ardoc. I noticed the shy flush creeping up his neck, as if a choir of elven harps would reveal his true colors.

Ardoc grinned wider, making Misha squirm under the combined pressure of awkwardness and fear. "Goodbye, Misha. May the winds guide your spirit," he replied with a gleam of mysterious warmth in his eyes.

At that moment, I decided it was vital to depart, "See? Nothing scary about that!" And in a rush, I bolted out of the room without waiting to see Misha's reaction.

"Damian!" Misha called as red hue crept into his cheeks, but I couldn't resist. In his flustered state, Ardoc chuckled, the sound cascading over the room like a lullaby.

"Misha, it's important to be acquainted with your roomie!" I yelled back, teasingly tousling my hair in a flourish. His embarrassment deepened to a crimson glow, but he managed to stammer another goodbye before I dashed down the stairs, heart racing with the fun of newfound camaraderie and the delicious prospect of a meal.

As we descended into the bustling atmosphere of the inn, where laughter and music flowed as freely as the mead, I felt the tangled threads of my life beginning to weave into a more colorful tapestry. I didn't know what lay ahead, but I was sure of one thing - I was finally finding joy in this peculiar adventure called life, surrounded by new friends who were turning strangers' faces into familiar smiles.

"Do you always shout about being acquainted with your roomie?" Misha asked, shaking his head, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Absolutely! You never know when the guy with the blade will end up saving your life!" I quipped, grinning as we stepped into the lobby, the melody of warmth, companionship, and unexpected adventures beckoning us forward into the night.

I walked into the warm glow of the elven inn, the air filled with the rich scent of roasted duck and spiced wine. Haldir, the innkeeper, stood behind the polished wood counter, his gold hair catching the light like spun sunlight. His emerald eyes danced with cheer as he greeted us.

"Good evening, travelers! What can I do for you?" Haldir asked, his voice smooth as silk.

"We're famished," I replied, my belly betraying me with a loud growl that echoed in the cozy interior. "What do you have tonight?"

Haldir laughed, the sound like tinkling bells. "You're in luck! We have a special: roasted venison with spiced vegetables, and for dessert, honeycakes baked with the finest elven herbs."

"Two of each, please!" Misha chimed in, his voice laced with excitement, though his brow furrowed slightly as if the thought of hunger brought him more worry than joy.

Haldir pointed toward the dining area. "Take a seat, and I'll have your meals brought out in no time!"

"Thank you, kind sir!" I said, nudging Misha jokingly. "Who knew the gold-haired elven prince would take such good care of us?" Rolling his eyes, Misha led the way to our table, and I followed, chuckling at my own wit. It was nice to see him lighten up, even if just a little.

As we entered the dining hall, I noted there were only seven patrons lingering over their meals - a few elves with eloquent gestures, a human engaged in animated conversation, and an elderly dwarf sitting quietly, beard covering his chest as he savored his ale, each absorbed in their meals and conversations.

With a mischievous grin, I turned to Misha. "Why did seven vanish when nine appeared?"

Misha sighed, rubbing his temples as though preparing for a headache. "Why?"

I pointed to the seven diners. "Seven!" Then I pointed to Misha. "Eight!" Finally, I pointed proudly at myself. "Nine!"

Misha groaned, but I caught his reluctant smile as he slid into a seat opposite me. "You really need to work on your jokes."

"Ah, but they bring color to our dull lives," I countered, leaning back in my chair with a flourish.

As laughter rippled through the room, I allowed myself to feel lighter; the problems of the world outside faded away into the quiet hum of friendly voices and low flames crackling in the hearth. Misha relaxed too, his worries momentarily dissipating as he joined in the camaraderie.

We each ordered a glass of herbal tea that bubbled delightfully as we awaited our meal. Misha sipped cautiously, as he always did, while I chugged mine as if it were a potion from a legendary tale. Between searching for the perfect joke to lighten the mood and teasing Misha about his overly cautious nature -reminding him to breathe every so often- the minutes slipped by as we waited for our food.

Moments later, Haldir returned, a tray laden with steaming plates in hand. The rich smell wafting up from the roasted venison added an indulgent allure that left my stomach growling. "Here you go, gentlemen. Enjoy!"

I dug in immediately, savoring each morsel like it was my first meal in ages, while Misha opted for the gentler nibbles, inspecting his food as if it had grown fangs overnight.

"Are you always this cautious?" I asked, mouth full, enjoying the glance of disapproval he shot back my way.

"You never know what you might find," he replied, eyeing the venison as if it might leap off the plate at any moment.

I chuckled, realizing how lucky I was to be here, enjoying this moment with someone who was a bright spark amidst my fog of forgotten memories.

Across the room, the conversation between the human and the others reached my ears. They were discussing the most recent events between the human clans and the elves, and though their tone remained calm and thoughtful, I could sense the passion unfurling in their voice. It made me a bit envious, not being able to recall my own places, my own people, buried deep into my void of lost memory.

"Are you okay?" Misha's voice pulled me back from my thoughts, concern etched in his features.

"Just thinking," I replied, shoving a fork full of venison into my mouth, feeling the warmth burst over my tongue.

He watched me carefully, and, for a moment, I thought he wouldn't drop it. Yet Misha was rarely one to dwell on uncomfortable conversations and soon enough, we found ourselves back in easy banter as the night wore on.

As we ate, my eyes drifted around and watched as Kian, a stoic young man with quick, efficient movements, cleared a nearby table. Each deliberate action bore the mark of someone accustomed to routine, and I felt an urge to break his calm demeanor with a friendly quip.

"Hey, Kian!" I called, waving him over. "Got any tips for these starving minds? Or maybe even a map to a sorceress? You'd be surprised how those two often go hand-in-hand."

He approached our table cautiously, a slight frown marring his otherwise stoic expression. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Actually, yes," I said, my eyes lighting up. "Do you know of a sorceress named Mienna? We've been searching for her quite desperately."

Kian shook his head, his voice steady. "I've only been in Liriendel for a few days. Sorry, but I've heard nothing of that name."

Disappointment washed over me like a cool breeze. "Ah, well thank you, Kian. You've been a great help nonetheless."

As he turned to leave, Kian added, "If you're looking for sorcery, perhaps Mister Haldir could point you in the right direction. He knows this city better than anyone."

"Misha," I said as I leaned back in my chair, "the answers of the universe may just be waiting for us at that counter."

After finishing our meal, we strolled back to Haldir, who was wiping the bar down with a cloth. "Excuse me, Haldir!" I called, my heart racing with hope. "Do you happen to know a sorceress named Mienna?"

Haldir frowned slightly, his emerald eyes narrowing in thought. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know her. However," he added, the glint in his eyes returning, "there is a sorceress named Ithllara. She has a greenhouse just up the northeastern gate. You can't miss it; it's large and filled with all manner of plants that most would find quite enchanting."

Misha's eyes widened in urgency as he leaned forward. "Do you know how to get there from here?"

"Easily," Haldir replied, gesturing toward the door. "Just head toward the northeastern gate and keep an eye out for the greenhouse. It's hard to miss, especially in the daylight."

"Thank you, Haldir!" I exclaimed, the thrill of a new lead lifting the weight from the evening. "Do you think... could Mienna's real name be Ithllara?"

Misha shook his head, frustration wrestling with curiosity across his features. "I don't know. I've never heard of her by that name."

I chuckled, as I mulled over our options. "Well, it's late now. Perhaps we should rest and visit her first thing in the morning?"

Misha nodded, exhaling a long breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You're right. It's been a long day. The stars seem to conspire against us - and I need to prepare myself to meet a sorceress."

After a final round of thanks to Haldir, we ascended the creaky staircase to our rented room, the anticipation thrummed through my veins. The inn's wood walls surrounded us with comfort, a sharp contrast to the quest for answers that awaited us at dawn. I perched on the edge of my bed, the gentle creak of wooden furniture beneath my frame grounding me in this moment.

"You know, Misha," I said, my tone light yet reflective, "this might turn out to be the most incredible adventure of our lives."

He managed a smile, already shedding the weight of worry. "If we survive the meeting and find out who this sorceress is, I might just agree."

The bed was soft, and as I laid there drifting into the realm of dreams, I could sense a purpose unraveling before me. After all, who was I? My memories were but a ghost, elusive and taunting. But perhaps meeting Ithllara would unveil fragments of my past, or, at the very least, provide clarity in this ever-confounding journey.

Leaning back, I let sleep wash over me like a soothing tide, the inn's ambiance lulling me into dreams filled with whispers of the unknown - the enigmatic Ithllara awaited, cradled in the moonlight, just beyond the gate. And perhaps, just perhaps, she would hold the key to the mystery of my past.