The Pale Man

The inn smelled of roasted meat, wet wood, and fire smoke. Its timbers groaned under the weight of laughter and the clatter of mugs. A thick stone wall cut through its centre and a wide fireplace was built into its base. Warmth rushed over them as they stepped inside, the contrast to the cool, glowing night almost dizzying.

From the moment they entered, Elias noticed a table of guards who didn’t stop watching them.

They found an empty table themselves tucked between a heavy beam and the hearth. Elias sank into his chair with relief; his legs still felt heavy from the run through mud and blossom.

A young girl hurried over to take their order.

“I’’ll have the special, whatever it is,” Fawks declared with confidence.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Elias added. “Oh—and maybe a cup of ale would be nice.” He glanced at Fawks, as though waiting for approval.

“Half a pint of our own Tarlroot Ale comes with the meal,” she said, nodding.

“Tarlroot?” Elias asked.

“A seed we brew only here, in Tarlmere” she explained with quiet pride. “Deep roots, bitter at first taste, but the sweetness lingers.”

Fawks winked. “Perfect.”

“Do you want two full pints?” she asked

“No, half would be fine. Thank you.”
With a look of disapproval, Elias turned toward Fawks, catching the boy’s semi-guilty expression.

“What?” Fawks exclaimed. “There aren’t any rules about drinking here… and I really want to try an ale!”

Well, if you really want to," Elias said, mimicking Fawks's tone.", “then, I suppose there’s no avoiding it”

The food arrived quickly: steaming stew, dense bread, and mugs of frothy ale. The smell alone made Elias’s stomach growl again.

He lifted the mug hesitantly and took a sip. The bitterness hit first, sharp and earthy — but just as promised, a lingering sweetness followed, mellow and almost warm, like memory itself.

Elias lowered the mug slowly. “That’s… different.”

“Good different?” Fawks asked, his grin wide.

“Yes. Good different.”

They ate in silence for a while, broken only by the tavern’s noise around them — dice rolling, laughter rising, the occasional thump of a fist on wood. The world outside already seemed far away, as though the rain of blossoms and the chartreuse-eyed guards were only a dream.

Finally, Elias leaned closer, lowering his voice.
“So… what’s the deal here? What is this place, really?”

“Look, between us, I’m new here too,” Fawks admitted.
“But I’ve figured out a few things.”

He showed Elias a small gem, no bigger than a grape, dangling on a thin chain like a cherry. It looked more like jewelry than currency.

“All the fuss here is about these.”

“What does it do?” Elias asked.

“You buy things with it,” Fawks replied.

“Ah… their currency.” Elias rolled it in his palm.

“Yeah. But it must do something else too.”

“Like what?”

“I’ve seen people eat them.”

“Eat this?”

“Just the stone. Weird, right?”

“Maybe it’s some kind of sugar crystal,” Elias guessed.

Fawks pocketed it again.

Elias leaned closer. “What about this world? How did it come to be? Actually… where even are we?”

He cut Fawks off before he could answer.
“And why medieval? Why not pirates, or modern, or even futuristic?”

Fawks had expected questions, but not this torrent.
“Well, there is a sea at the far end—”

“Where are those newcomers?!” a sharp female voice barked from the entrance.

A guard strode in — striking, with blazing red hair, bright blue eyes, and a warhammer slung across her back. She marched to the soldiers’ table.

“Over there, chief,” they said, pointing to Elias and Fawks.

She slammed her palms down on their table.
“Listen. I don’t know what your deal is, and I don’t care. As long as you’re in Tarlmere, you’ll behave. None of that nonsense like ‘What’s the point of all this,’ or ‘I’ve lost my will to carry on.’ You got that?!”

The tavern froze. Her furious glare swept across them, sharp enough to cut, yet it only made her more magnetic.

A lone man at a corner table stood abruptly and left, slipping through the door in a dull but hurried gait.

“After him!” she roared. Her guards rushed out.

“You two,” she snapped at Elias and Fawks, “I’ve got my eyes on you.”
With one last glare, she stormed after them.

Heat crept into Elias’s cheeks.

“Come on,” Fawks urged, tossing a gem on the table and pulling him up.

“Wait—why run off?” Elias protested.

“We’re just following. Don’t you want to see what happens?”

“No… obviously,” Elias muttered, but Fawks was already dragging him outside.

At the end of the street, the guards opened the gate. Beyond lay a dark forest, its edge brushing the far side of the walls. A pale figure stood motionless, staring into the trees.

Fawks broke into a run. Elias followed.

As they drew closer, Fawks gave him a sidelong glance. “Aren’t you supposed to be married?”

“What?” Elias looked at his bare hand — no ring. Peachy’s face flashed in his mind, heavy with longing.
“How did you know?”

“I guessed…” Fawks said, smirking. “But you just confirmed it.”

Elias laughed aloud, realizing Fawks had stumbled on the truth by accident.

The archguard turned sharply. “What are you doing here?!”

“You said you’ve got your eyes on us,” Fawks quipped. “We figured you didn’t want to lose sight.”

“What’s going on here?” Elias pressed.

“None of your concern,” a guard growled.

The pale figure slowly turned. His skin was drained of color, dark veins raised, eyes grey and empty. Even the air around him seemed washed out.

“A Shade!” one guard gasped.

“He’s turned…” the archguard muttered.

“Wait,” Elias said softly, stepping forward.

“What are you doing, newcomer?” the archguard barked.

“Elias!” Fawks hissed.

But Elias pressed on. He remembered her earlier words — the despair she mocked — and felt he had to try.

“Friend,” he called gently. “What’s your name?”

The figure rasped, a sound like endless inhaling. Then words, faint but clear:
“A–N–A–N–G.”

“Anang. That’s good,” Elias said quickly. “I’m Elias.”

“What’s he doing?” one guard muttered — silenced by the archguard’s glare.

“Anang, do you know where you are?” Elias asked.

For a moment, silence. Then the Shade spoke, his voice raw with despair:
“I am dead… and so are you.”

Elias’s spine went cold.

The figure roared and swelled, becoming a towering beast. Soil withered beneath it, the world around fading to nothing.

Elias tried to retreat, but the monster lunged.