I left the inn, my old clothes; a black hoody with drawstrings in the neck, a plain white shirt underneath, and a well-used pair of old blue jeans on me, feeling more secure rather than clothes that had been lent to me this morning. In the front pocket of the hoody I hid a small lantern, the cool steel a small comfort as my fingers wrapped around it. Rosary followed me, a short distance away, flying from shadow to shadow, trying to keep from being seen, the streets so far empty, only the occasional guard breaking the near emptiness of the square. This part of town seemed to have quieted down tremendously since this afternoon. Most of the people who had come on that train had found other lodgings or had probably gotten passage inside of the Royal District. Many of those people had taken residence in the tavern I was staying in, a fact that made sneaking out of the place even harder to do.

The town square had a peaceful but ominous feel to it as if we were in the eye of the storm; the calm before the tragedy that seemed to loom here. My thoughts lingered for a moment again on the mass execution that I had witnessed when I first had gotten here. I would have never guessed from talking to the people here that something like that happened regularly, the people here seemed so much like other normal people I had met. Disturbing thoughts bubbled in my mind that I quickly pushed down. As we started down to the road leading to the major road, a lone figure came within my view.

The persons blond, almost silver like hair seemed to shine in the glow of the lantern, the person held their lantern as if to drive away all the darkness in front of them, the light not only reflecting off their hair but also the beautiful metal mask that they wore. I couldn’t tell whether the person was a man or woman their form both feminine and yet not quite enough.

I tried to avoid the person, though something about the person drew my attention so that even when I was trying to avoid them, I still couldn’t help but be drawn to them. It seemed that I too was noticed as they started to move towards me, stepping with both the grace of a noble and the predatory confidence of a lion. “Fine evening is it not?” The person asked as he/she passed by, the voice both feminine and not, a mysterious air in it. I felt a little uncomfortable and looked around quickly, searching for Rosary, my eyes finding nothing, something that paradoxically felt reassuring and yet not. I turned to the person, their back still to me, the feminine curvature of the person more profound from behind. Something felt dangerous about this person, hairs on end, the very air around the person like that of an Arctic breeze; undeniably cold.

I fumbled with my words, searching for something anything that would be right, a fruitless act as my head was very much in a fight or flight mood right now. “A night to remember for both of us I expect.” The person said, voice low and haughty as if having already played the conversation out and knowing exactly how it would play out. They acted so familiarly, even with their back to me I could sense a hint of nostalgia through the haughty response, or was that just shaky reasoning spurred on from a hope that this is only a perceived danger.

“What do you mean? Who are you?” I fumbled with the words, like a toddler, lips feeling cold and refusing to work quite right as if this were a cold winter night rather then the warmth of spring. The person chuckled, a haughty masculine laugh, and they turned to me. “Just someone out for a walk.” Their mask seemed to look like the misshapen combination of an angel and demon, as if their faces had been gruesomely slammed into each other and combined, still having the pained expressions from the experience, I couldn’t tell if I was horrified or awed, a closer look at the mask revealed that the duality of Angel and Devil was actually made up of tinier extravagant details, depicting a scene that could only be revealed through inspection up close. A work of art would be a vast understatement. It seemed fitting in a strange way, the mask combined with the persons’ otherwise plain white robes that they wore.

“The better question I suspect is, Who are you?” The person paused and nodded the way they said the last part seemed heavily emphasized. I wanted to run, hide, escape, whatever, from their presence but that phrase, did this person know? The person then turned away and waved a gloved hand.

The sound of a carriage broke my reverent fear, its sound quickly coming into focus. “Take care of yourself.” The carriage pulled up near to us, a man in a half mask jumping out a crazed look clear in the man's face as if searching for the dead. He relaxed only moments later after eying the person I had been talking to.”

“My lord, we suspected some trickery from the Mage King when you disappeared.” The man said in a hurried manner. The person who I spoke too ignored the man and made their way into the carriage but stopped for a moment turning back to my direction.

“I am glad to see you again, though I had hoped never to see you again. Farewell.” Saying his/her piece they walked inside the carriage, the small masked man entering inside for a moment likely to talk to their lord, moments later galloping off.

A feeling of relief intermixed with a sense of foreboding, who was that? Rosary came out of hiding, an uneasy look on her face, her usually cheerful demeanor not entirely masking her anxiety well enough. “How do you know that person? She asked.

“I don’t, or at least I don’t remember knowing anyone like that. Do you know who that was Rosary?” I asked

“No sorry, but I could feel an immense presence coming from them.” Whomever that person was, they seemed to be prominent among the delegation of men and women who had come here.

The rest of the trip seemed to be far less eventful, and we quickly got to that massive, sprawling highway. The highway that sprawled out was far more lit on the other side of it, hell it almost seemed like the inhabitants had forgotten that it was night time as jovial laughter, drunken giggles, and other sounds loudly interrupted the silence that had been prevalent. Rosary and I stayed on the quieter side, trying to avoid attention. Finally finding the turn that I needed to make, one which I scarcely could remember, the blanket of the night making certain things look different at first glance, we made our way onto the road.

The entrance to the ruins loomed overhead; inky black darkness mingled with the scent of mildew and rot, the mouth of the ruins as inviting as the jaws of some prehistoric monster just waiting to gobble up its next meal. An owl hooted in the distance, its cry an almost calming melody in my ears, reminding me that even as bizarre as this world was it still had elements of the natural world in it. I went to grab the lantern from my pocket when the sound of rushed flapping spooked me a little, its' rushed, frantic flapping like a creature afraid for their life, something landed inside of the hood of my hoody and wrapped itself around my neck shaking slightly. “Rosary is that you?” the feeling of breasts against my neck made me fairly certain it was her.

“I don’t like owls,” she whispered, her body shaking. “I’ve had bad experiences with them.” Her warmth was honestly a little distracting, and I ended up fumbling for the lantern much longer than I otherwise would have. It was a little thing, smaller then Rosary even, turning the knob sent a spark and light immediately batted away the darkness. Entering into the ruins, I could feel something in the air, something wrong, my chest burned as if to warn me of the wrongness, it felt like someone or something was slowly digging into my chest again, reopening those mysterious scars that hovered ominously where my heart was, as if to finish what it started and rip out the heart that fluttered inside frantically.

Rosary slowly released her grip as I walked down one of the many hallways, the beating of her heart seems to have calmed. The ruins were so large that the light of the lantern failed to illuminate everything, trying to make out what was ahead was as useful as counting every little-broken stone that lay in our path. The quietness of the ruins made my quickening heartbeat seem to echo in the hall that we were currently exploring. The place felt both nostalgic and terrifying, like an old abusive friend. It wasn’t long before I realized that I was lost, the path having split multiple times forcing me to choose a direction. The gray-hued walls of the place looking the same no matter where we were.