I jolted awake, heart racing as I felt gentle fingers of someone weaving through my hair. Confused and momentarily disoriented, I turned my head to find Kian sitting there, poised on the edge of his bed, his hand retreating in surprise at my awakening. His face was expressionless, but I could see the faint hint of embarrassment dusting the tips of his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Enaeya. I didn't mean to wake you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his calm demeanor faltering slightly under the weight of my gaze.

"It's okay," I replied, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as my heart settled at the sight of him, and the warmth where his fingers had brushed against my hair still lingered. "You didn't do anything wrong," I sat up yawning, sitting properly on the chair just as I remembered the horrifying circumstances that had occurred earlier. I faced Kian, worry masking my expression. "How are you feeling?" My voice came out gentle, the kind of tone that had often brought a smile to Kira's face.

He seemed to contemplate my question, his gaze drifting momentarily to the window where shadows flickered. "Better," he replied, the calmness wrapping around his words like a shield. "Mister Haldir came to check on us while you were sleeping. He brought Kira and I some medicine." He glanced towards the adjacent bed where Kira lay, her small body curled beneath the blankets, the gentle rise and fall of her chest soothing amidst the previous chaos which haunted us earlier.

I leaned forward, the instinct to care urging me on. I placed the back of my hand against Kian's forehead - his skin warm to the touch. He stiffened slightly at the contact, but his face remained a stoic mask, betraying none of the turmoil that danced in my own heart. "Are you really alright?" I asked softly, noticing the pink tinge creeping across his cheeks. "You feel warm, and you look a bit flushed." I murmured, concern pooling in my chest.

Kian's lips pressed together in a thin line, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I caught the hint of a smile as he reassured me, "I'm fine, I promise." But I couldn't shake the worry. I chose not to press further, my attention shifting to where Kira lay, her curly hair fanning out like a halo around her small face. Peacefully sleeping, she was entirely oblivious to our conversation, and I couldn't help but smile at how innocent and untroubled she seemed.

"I should get you both some food," I announced, surprising myself with the enthusiasm that had crept into my tone. "You'll need your strength, especially after all that's happened to you." I said, determination coursing through me. It was the least I could do. Kian and Kira had taken care of me since I met them, and I wanted to return the favor, to show them that I cared.

Just as I stood, eager to fulfill my purpose and nourish the two that I cared for, Kian's hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist with a surprising gentleness. The touch sent an electric thrill coursing through my arm, and I looked down, momentarily stunned. His eyes searched mine, revealing a hint of uncertainty. "Is there anything you need?" I asked, hopeful my question would ease whatever burden he carried.

"Uh, wait," he said, his brow furrowing in contemplation. He opened his mouth as if to say something before shutting it again, brow knitting in thought. Finally, with the air of someone who had made a difficult decision, he said, "Can I ask for something?"

I met his gaze, intrigued by his question. "Of course. What is it that you need?"

There was a brief hesitation, and I noticed how he seemed to be weighing his words carefully. "I... I want pottage to eat," he finally said, and though a myriad of things danced on the tip of his tongue, he settled on something so simple, so essential. I could almost hear the echo of his longing for nourishment, both physical and emotional, wrapped within that one word.

A bright smile broke across my face, amused by his simplicity. "Of course, that's easy enough." I replied, the prospect of him depending on me was making my heart swell with warmth. "And I'll add some garlic bread too."

Kian nodded, his hand slipping from mine like petals falling from a flower, leaving only a trace of warmth between us. "Thank you, Enaeya," he said softly, his expression softening further beneath my gaze, and I felt the sincerity in his tone wrap around me like a warm blanket.

"Rest while I get the food. I'll be back soon." I waved slightly as I made my exit, weaving around the bed to leave the room.

I closed the door behind me with a gentle click, stepping into the hushed hallway adorned with intricate wooden carvings of mythical creatures that danced and twirled, a testament to the elven artisanship surrounding me. Just as I turned, someone emerged from the room across from mine. My heart quickened slightly in recognition; it was Misha, the young man who had arrived earlier with a doctor and a sick friend, cradled in the arms of two burly elven soldiers.

Misha bore a somewhat chaotic aura, complemented by his messy brown hair and eyes that seemed burdened with the weight of his thoughts. He seemed ruffled, as if the day had taken its toll on him, but there was a kindness in his brown eyes that shone through. This time, however, as our gazes collided, I felt a wave of warmth wash over me, and I offered him a smile - one of those genuine, disarming smiles that I hoped could vanquish any reservation lingering between us. I could see in his eyes a flicker of something; surprise, perhaps, or curiosity. It was as if the world around us paused, freezing the night in a tapestry woven just for us.

When I smiled warmly at him, his gaze dropped, instantly flustered. "I-I'm so sorry!" he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, and his hands were fumbling nervously by his sides. "I didn't mean to stare! I just... I've never seen someone as beautiful as you."

Heat flooded my cheeks. I had always brushed off compliments with a wave of modesty, but his words struck a chord. Misha's sincerity emanated from him, bright and unguarded like a candle flickering in the dark. "Thank you, that's sweet of you," I replied, my own voice tinged with shyness. The way his cheeks flared crimson in response filled my spirit with warmth, coaxing a gentle laugh from my lips. "You're rather adorable yourself." I added, buoyed by a playful smile.

Misha's face turned an even deeper shade of crimson. "Ado-Adorable?" He echoed, his expression a delightful mix of surprise and embarrassment. I couldn't restrain my laughter - it bubbled up like the effervescent spring water that flowed through Liriendel's fountains.

"You're so charmingly easily flustered." I remarked playfully, hoping to lighten the mood.

He chuckled lightly, the noise hitching in his throat as he fought the embarrassment creeping up on him. "I guess I'm not very good at talking to pretty people," he admitted, glancing sideways, as if desperately searching for an escape point.

"Yet here we are, talking," I encouraged, sensing the need to ease his discomfort. "And as we're in an elven city, I assure you, there are countless elves out there far more beautiful than I."

His expression was a mix of disbelief and amusement, and he nodded, though not entirely convinced. "That might be true, but... well, you're still the most beautiful person I've seen."

A nervous laugh slipped from Misha's lips, and in that moment, I couldn't help but notice the vulnerability in his gaze. A flicker of appreciation ignited within me; this young man was more than mere appearances hinted at.

Misha stood there stiffly, his hands fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt as if ashamed that I might think he was insincere in his compliment. The silence that followed hung between us, heavy and sweet like the smell of spring blossoms that permeated the air.

Seeing his demeanor, I wanted to draw him out of his shell. "Ah, where were you headed before this?" I asked, eager to break the tension and keep our moment alive a little longer.

Misha met my gaze again, and the nervousness flitted briefly into determination. "Um, I was just... about to go downstairs to order some food," he replied, glancing down the dimly-lit corridor, his expression filled with the concern of someone torn between craving and obligation.

"Really?" My eyes sparkled at the thought. "I was also heading down for the same reason. Perhaps we could go together? I'd love to have some company." I tilted my head slightly, hoping to reassure him that his company wouldn't be a burden but a joy.

For a moment, Misha appeared uncertain, as though the prospect of shared company was a foreign territory. But then his face broke into a shy smile, his head bowing slightly. "Um, yes, of course. I'd like that."

"Wonderful!" I exclaimed, my heart fluttering - perhaps from the excitement of the moment or the budding friendship, I couldn't tell. I gestured toward the staircase at the far end of the hallway. "Shall we? I'd hate for us to miss dinner." I said, a grin lighting up my face as I stepped forward, beckoning for him to follow. Misha nodded, the way his gaze flickered back to the floor making me smile wider - for a moment, I felt as if I were seeing a shy deer speared through by the gaze of a hunter.

Together, we started walking, side by side, and Misha fell into step with me, albeit nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt. I stole glances at him, the moonlight casting a soft glow across his messy brown hair, making it seem almost ethereal, despite its disarray. There was a beauty to his worry, to the way the lines of his brow furrowed whenever concern masks his expression.

As we walked down the hallway, the warm glow of flickering lanterns illuminated the hallway of the inn. Shadows danced playfully on the walls, casting whimsical shapes that mirrored the rhythm of our light-hearted conversation. I appreciated the ethereal beauty of the elven city of Liriendel, where the threads of magic and nature wove together seamlessly. The spring air was fragrant with blooming night flowers, their silent perfume seeping into the stone walls of the inn, mingling with the soft hum of laughter and chatter from below.

"Hey, Misha," I broke the comfortable silence, my voice a gentle murmur amidst the clattering sounds down below. "How is your friend doing? I saw you with a doctor and two guards carrying your friend when you entered the room. Is your friend well now?" I asked, sincerity resonating in my voice.

Misha, startled from his introspection, looked up at me with wide brown eyes. "He's better now," he answered, his brow furrowing slightly. "He's just resting in the room at the moment." There was a hint of relief in his voice, though the concern still lingered in his eyes. I admired how fiercely he cared; it was a kindness that sparkled in him like starlight.

"I'm glad to hear that, and I hope he gets well soon," I said, allowing my warmth to weave through my words. The sincerity in my tone felt soothing, and I hoped it lifted the weight on his heart even slightly. "It's never easy seeing someone you care about unwell." I murmured more to myself than him, "I hope everyone who's sick can find their strength again."

Misha's brows furrowed. "Yes, I do too." He seemed to sink back into his head, contemplating something more profound than the simple exchange of words.

As we ventured deeper into the corridor, I took a moment to appreciate the inn's immaculate upkeep. The elven craftsmanship was exquisite, evident in the intricate carvings on the wooden beams that were polished to reflect the golden hues of the lantern light and the delicate patterns that graced the stone walls. Artful tapestries adorned the walls, illustrations of historical elven tales weaving intricate stories. A polished floor of warm maple danced beneath our feet, creaking softly in response to our steps, lending a lively rhythm to our shared space.

"This place has a certain charm, doesn't it?" I mused aloud. "The attention to detail is remarkable."

Misha nodded, and I could tell he was warming up to the conversation, his pace lightening slightly. Yet, it was he who broke the next silence, his voice shy yet filled with curiosity. "Um, what's your name?"

I paused in surprise. I realized until that moment, I had never introduced myself; I was so caught up in the ambiance and our conversation that I overlooked this simple formality. "I'm sorry, how rude of me," I replied, offering him a warm smile that I hoped would ease his nerves. "I'm Enaeya."

"Enaeya..." he echoed, as if tasting the name for the first time. There was magic in that moment, in the way a name can forge connections. "That's a nice name."

"Thank you. As luck would have it, I already knew your name," I admitted, chuckling softly. "I overheard it when you were speaking to the doctor earlier."

"I guess I don't have to introduce myself after all." He said, relief washing over him as he chuckled, a soft, nervous sound, yet it was laced with genuine playfulness.

"It's great to meet you, Misha, although I'm sorry you have to be so nervous about it." I replied warmly.

His cheeks flushed with a hint of color, and he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "It's just... I find it hard talking to new people. Especially, um... when they're beautiful. Like you."

My heart fluttered at his timid compliment, the warmth of his words wrapping around me like a silken scarf. "Oh, you're too kind," I said playfully, though deep down I felt a gentle blush tugging at my cheeks. "But I assure you, I wouldn't hurt you. If anything, I think I'm more likely to trip over my own feet than to be any threat!"

He laughed softly, the sound like the chimes of delicate glass. "I've seen you walking; I think you've got better footing than I do."

"It's nice to finally see you get comfortable," I replied warmly. "I overheard your worried replies when you were talking to the doctor about your friend."

Misha's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Oh, sorry, I can be a bit of a nervous wreck sometimes. It's just... I didn't want anything to happen to him."

I reached out gently, instinctively, and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "It's okay to worry, Misha. That just means you care. But try to relax. Thinking of the worst will only make you feel worse, and I again assure you, you don't have to be nervous around me. I mean, look at me!" I gestured to my slight frame dressed in soft silks, the moonlight highlighting my features.

He chuckled again, though it was slightly sheepish. "I suppose you're right. It's just... sometimes it feels like everything is stacked against me. I don't know how to navigate it all."

I nodded in understanding. "It may seem daunting now, but every dawn brings a new set of possibilities. The stars flourish against the night sky, right? We all have our own constellations to discover."

Misha's expression changed, uncertainty melting slightly as he turned his gaze to the intertwining vines climbing the walls along the hallway, their delicate blossoms glowing faintly in the moonlight. "I've never thought of it that way," he admitted. "I mean, I've always felt lost. But talking to you... it helps."

"It's easy to feel lost when there are so many paths," I said knowingly. "Sometimes all we need is someone to remind us to look up, to focus on the stars instead of the shadows."

We began walking again, our steps more relaxed now, as if the world had softened around us. I listened to Misha share his thoughts, worries slipping away like feathers released into the wind.

As we reached the end of the corridor, I could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. Perhaps it was the enchantment of the night, or perhaps it was the gentle authenticity of our exchange, but in that moment I felt a connection with Misha — a bond forged in vulnerability and understanding.

I stepped down the last remaining steps of the wooden staircase, my heart light and curious. Misha trailed nervously beside me. With his messy hair and wide eyes, he looked like a startled rabbit, always on edge and ready to bolt. I had sensed his anxiety since we met a few minutes ago. Despite the aura of worry that seemed to cling to him, there was something endearing about the way he looked at the world — like a canvas waiting for a splash of color.

As we entered the lobby, the scent of spices and fresh bread wafted through the air, teasing our senses. Haldir stood behind the counter, his gold hair shimmering like sunlight and his emerald eyes sparkling with curiosity. He greeted us with a smile that made the atmosphere feel even more welcoming.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Enaeya,” Haldir greeted, his voice was a melodious chime. “And aren't you called... Misha?” he asked, raising a brow at my anxious companion. “I didn't know that you two were acquainted?”

“I—Well we—” Misha stammered a response, a blush creeping up his neck.

I reached out and gently squeezed his arm, offering a silent reassurance as I turned to the innkeeper. “We actually only just met a short while ago, Mister Haldir,” I explained, my voice calm and even.

Haldir’s emerald eyes flickered with understanding. “Ah, I see. And what can I get for the two of you?”

“I’d like a pottage and a garlic bread, please,” I began, “two mazers of morat, and a blawmanger.”

Haldir jotted down the order with elegant strokes. Then he turned to Misha, awaiting his choice. Misha, who's prone to worry, seemed to ponder for a moment before responding.

“Two pandemain, a muscadine, a caudle, and a blawmanger, please,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Excellent choices,” Haldir said, jotting them down with a flourish. “Will you be dining here or would you prefer your meals delivered to your rooms?”

Misha’s eyes darted around the room, landing on a shadowed corner as if seeking refuge. “Would it be possible… to have it delivered to my room?” he asked, his voice laced with anxiety.

“Certainly,” Haldir replied kindly. “And for you, Enaeya?” he turned to me.

“My food to my room as well, please,” I requested, a soft smile gracing my lips.

After we settled the payment, Haldir assured us our meals would be ready soon and disappeared into the dining area, leaving us in the cozy lobby. I turned to Misha with a smile, trying to ease his obvious tension.

“Shall we head back to our rooms and wait?” I suggested.

Misha nodded, his nervousness easing slightly as we ascended the staircase together. The soft glow of the lanterns illuminated the way, casting playful shadows on the walls. However, our journey was interrupted as we suddenly bumped into someone solid.

I looked up, my breath catching in my throat. Before us stood a burly man, his body adorned with scars that told tales of battles fought and survived. His intimidating presence was softened by a bright smile that transformed his fierce features.

Misha’s voice caught in his throat as he spoke. “A-Ardoc?” he said, his fingers instinctively clutching on his shirt.

“Ardoc?” I echoed, surprised that Misha seemed to know the man. I nervously greeted him, “Hello.”

To my surprise, Ardoc’s scarred face burst into a wide grin, and a hearty laugh rumbled from his chest. “Well, hello there, lads,” he said.

“H–Hello.” Misha replied, his gaze not meeting the man before us. He shifted nervously on his feet, clearly unsure of how to react. “Wh—Where a-are you o-off—” he coughed, his voice cracking under pressure.

“Where am I off to?” Ardoc continued, looking down at Misha with a playful grin. “Just out for a hunt.” He paused, and I could see Misha’s eyes widening. Ardoc looked straight at Misha, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. Misha’s face turned pale, and a blush painted his cheeks. Upon seeing his reaction, Ardoc let out a booming laugh before ruffling Misha’s hair. “Just a little joke,” he said, seeing the terror in Misha’s eyes. “Actually, I’m off to the tavern for a bit of a drink with the lads.”

Misha seemed to relax slightly, though he still fidgeted, his blush deepening. “Oh, um… okay,” he replied, looking both relieved and embarrassed.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the exchange. “Have fun, Ardoc.” I said, glancing at Misha, who was still processing the encounter.

Ardoc turned his attention to me, his gaze assessing. “Thank you, lad,” he answered. “Your name, if I may ask? It surely must be as beautiful as you are.” he asked, a friendly grin breaking across his face.

I felt my cheeks warming at the compliment, but I tried to compose myself as I spoke. “I’m Enaeya,” I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.

“Enaeya,” he repeated, a slow, pleased smile spreading across his features. “Take care of yourselves, you two. The world can be a wild place.” With a final wave, he strode out of the inn, his presence lingering long after he had departed.

As soon as Ardoc was out of earshot, Misha released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’m glad he’s gone. He scares me,” he confessed, his voice a mix of amusement and sincerity.

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “I think he’s not that bad. He seems more like a giant soft pillow, if you ask me.”

Misha stared at me in disbelief, his mouth agape. “A pillow?” he echoed incredulously, but I could see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes, a pillow! A big, friendly, gentle one,” I insisted, playfully nudging him. “Now come on, let’s get to our rooms.”

We reached our respective doors, and I turned to Misha, feeling a warmth in my heart. “It was really nice meeting you,” I said, offering a sincere tone in my voice

“Y-yeah, nice meeting you too,” Misha replied shyly, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a final goodbye, we both slipped into our rooms, the soft glow of Liriendel still painting the night a gentle gold. The scent of spring blossoms filled the air, a subtle reminder that even in the strangest encounters, there was always the promise of a brighter tomorrow.