I woke up so early in the morning. The surrounding room was still entirely consumed by the heavy, undisturbed darkness of the pre-dawn hours. The complete absence of sunlight from the window pane left the interior architecture of the inn completely cloaked in deep, thick shadows. The silence of the space was absolute and unyielding, carrying the distinct, heavy stillness of a world entirely at rest. I lay perfectly motionless on the surface of the mattress, the physical weight of my body pressing down against the soft fabric of the bedsheets. My eyes were open, staring upward into the pitch-black canopy of the room, but the visual information was completely overridden by a sudden, intense physical sensation localized entirely within my vision.
My eyes are bleeding. The realization was immediate, brought on by the stark, unmistakable feeling of thick, warm liquid welling up beneath my eyelids. The physical temperature of the fluid was drastically warmer than the cool morning air resting against my skin. It breached the corners of my eyes, the heavy droplets spilling over the edges and tracing slow, agonizingly hot paths down the sides of my face. The sheer viscosity of the liquid was distinct, a heavy, clinging moisture that rolled down my cheeks and began to pool slightly near my ears against the fabric of the pillow. I did not move my hands to wipe it away immediately; I simply lay there in the absolute dark, feeling the continuous, slow drip of the blood escaping from my eyes.
I thought to myself that it must've been the eye of the gods on why my eye bled. The internal deduction was sharp, instant, and entirely factual, connecting the immediate physical trauma to the specific, undeniable cause. I overused it. The thought followed directly, establishing the precise reason for the sudden and violent physical consequence. The sheer strain of the previous usage had pushed the limit, resulting in the current, uninterrupted flow of warm blood spilling down my face in the pitch-black quiet of the early morning.
I remained perfectly still, the liquid continuing to trace its slow path down my skin. Tokine is on my side. Her physical presence was a solid, undeniable weight resting right next to me on the wide surface of the mattress. She was lying there in the dark because she, for some reason, wanted to sleep beside me. I did not shift my position or turn my head to acknowledge her proximity. The rhythmic, slow sound of her deep breathing was the only auditory disruption in the absolute silence of the room, a steady, continuous cadence that confirmed her deep state of unconsciousness right beside my bleeding form.
Suddenly, the steady rhythm of her breathing hitched, the cadence breaking entirely. She awoke. The physical movement was immediate; I could feel the sudden shift in the distribution of weight on the mattress as she stirred. The rustle of the thick blankets echoed sharply in the quiet room as she pushed herself up from her resting position. She turned her head toward me in the heavy darkness. She saw my eyes. Even in the dim, almost non-existent light of the early morning, the dark, wet trails of blood covering the sides of my face were immediately visible to her.
She looked worried. Her physical posture instantly changed, the relaxed state of sleep vanishing completely, replaced by a sudden, rigid tension that radiated from her form. She leaned in closer, closing the physical distance between us on the bed. Her hands reached out through the dark space. She covered my eyes. The physical contact was immediate and absolute. The palms of her hands pressed firmly but carefully against my closed eyelids, the skin of her hands coming into direct contact with the warm, wet blood pooling around my orbital bones. The physical pressure blocked out whatever faint, residual darkness I was looking at, replacing it entirely with the solid, warm barrier of her hands.
With her hands completely obscuring my vision, she leaned down, her voice breaking the heavy silence of the room. She said to me, "You must turn off your eye of the gods." The grammar of her instruction was clear, the tone urgent and directly commanding. She delivered the words precisely, her voice hovering just above me in the dark, the physical pressure of her hands remaining completely steadfast over my bleeding eyes as she issued the absolute directive.
I followed the instruction. I turned it off. The internal mechanism ceased. The exact second the deactivation occurred, the physical result was completely instantaneous. And the bleeding stopped. The constant, warm welling of liquid from the corners of my eyes halted completely. There was no residual trickling, no slow cessation; the flow simply ended, leaving only the already-spilled blood cooling slowly against my skin under the firm pressure of Tokine's palms.
Tokine suddenly said, "I can't have my pet go blind on me." Her voice cut through the quiet air again, the sentence delivered with a specific, proprietary tone. She kept her hands over my eyes for another fraction of a second before finally pulling them away, removing the physical barrier and the warmth of her palms from my face.
I ignored her. I offered absolutely no verbal response, no acknowledgment of her statement, and no reaction to her specific terminology. I pushed the heavy blankets completely off my body, the fabric pooling around my legs. I sat up on the edge of the mattress, the cool morning air hitting the drying blood on my cheeks. I stood up, my boots hitting the solid floorboards with a dull, heavy thud. I turned my back to the bed and just went downstairs to eat.
The walk down the wooden staircase of the inn was entirely mechanical. The heavy timber of the steps creaked slightly under my weight as I descended into the lower level of the building. The dining area was completely empty, the tables and chairs arranged in perfect, undisturbed order in the dim morning light. I secured a plate of food from the kitchen area. I sat down at one of the solid wooden tables, placing the ceramic plate down in front of me. The physical act of eating was entirely rote. I lifted the utensils, consumed the food mechanically, and swallowed without registering the taste or the texture of the meal. The silence of the dining room was absolute, broken only by the quiet scrape of my fork against the surface of the plate.
After eating, I pushed the empty plate away. I stood up from the wooden chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floorboards. I went outside to breathe. I walked toward the heavy wooden door of the inn, grabbed the iron handle, and pulled it open. The transition from the stale, quiet air of the interior to the fresh, crisp atmosphere of the outside morning was immediate. I stepped out of the building, the heavy door closing firmly behind me.
I walked across the paved stones of the courtyard and went to sit on a bench outside near a fountain. The bench was constructed of solid, cold stone, offering no comfort as I lowered my weight onto its hard surface. The structure of the fountain dominated the center of the area, a large, tiered construction of carved rock. The water cascaded continuously from the upper basin into the lower pool, creating a loud, rhythmic, and unbroken sound of splashing liquid that entirely consumed the ambient noise of the courtyard. I sat perfectly still on the hard stone, my back straight, my eyes fixed on the falling water, the cool morning air brushing against the dried blood still marking my face.
Tokine suddenly appeared to my side. There was no sound of approaching footsteps on the paving stones, no rustle of clothing, and no physical indication of her travel. She was simply not there one second, and in the next, her physical presence occupied the space directly beside the stone bench. She stood completely still, looking down at my seated form. She suddenly demanded that I must lay my head on her lap. The command was absolute, carrying no room for negotiation or refusal. She stepped closer to the bench, physically positioning herself to sit down beside me, her intention perfectly clear and unyielding.
It's annoying. The internal thought registered immediately. The absolute inconvenience and pointlessness of the physical action grated against my completely neutral state, a sudden, unwanted disruption to my quiet isolation on the bench. But I just have to do it. The secondary thought followed instantly, an absolute, factual acknowledgment of the reality of the situation. Resistance was entirely futile and irrelevant.
And then I did. I shifted my physical position on the hard stone of the bench. I leaned sideways, lowering my upper body until the weight of my head rested completely against the soft fabric of her clothing covering her lap. The physical transition was awkward, my legs stretched out along the cold stone while my head rested entirely on her. I stared straight ahead, my field of vision now shifted completely to a sideways angle of the courtyard and the flowing water of the fountain.
She kept massaging my hair like a dog for hours till lunch. The physical action began the absolute second my head made contact with her lap. Her hand descended, her fingers weaving directly into the strands of my hair. The motion was repetitive, entirely unbroken, and deeply mechanical. She stroked the hair backward, her fingers scraping lightly against my scalp in a continuous, endless loop. The sensation was exactly like the physical petting of a canine, a repetitive, mindless motion that never altered in speed or pressure. The hours dragged on with agonizing slowness. The sun climbed completely up into the sky, its harsh light banishing the shadows of the morning and beating down on the paving stones of the courtyard. The temperature rose significantly, the heat of the day pressing heavily against us. Yet, I remained perfectly still, my head anchored to her lap, forced to endure the continuous, unbroken, and repetitive massage of her fingers running through my hair over and over again while the fountain splashed endlessly in the background.
The long stretch of time finally broke. The position ended entirely when it was time for the midday meal. I lifted my head from her lap, my neck stiff from the hours of forced posture. I stood up from the hard stone bench, turning away from the fountain. We walked back inside the inn to eat lunch. The dining area was slightly more illuminated now, the midday sun streaming through the glass windows. I sat down at the table, acquiring another plate of food.
After eating, I surveyed the quiet inn. I noticed that Sogha didn't even come out of their room since morning. The total absence of his physical presence was a stark, undeniable fact. The wooden door to his designated room had remained completely shut, the latch unmoving, not a single sound or footstep emanating from that specific area of the upper floor for the entirety of the morning and afternoon. The isolation was absolute.
I stood up from my chair. I grabbed a plate of food. I secured a clean ceramic plate and portioned a complete meal onto its surface, the hot food resting heavily in my grip. I turned away from the dining area and carried the physical weight of the plate up the wooden stairs. I brought it to him. I walked slowly down the quiet corridor, my footsteps muffled against the smooth floorboards. I reached the solid wooden door of his room. I stopped, balancing the plate carefully in one hand. I reached out with my other hand and knocked firmly on the heavy timber. When the door opened a fraction, I simply extended my arm, transferring the exact physical weight of the plate into his hands. I did not speak a single word, nor did I look past him into the room. The moment the plate was secure in his grasp, I turned completely around and walked away, heading back down the corridor.
Having delivered the food, my intention shifted. I tried to go to a library. I planned a physical route out of the inn, intending to walk toward a repository of books to occupy the remaining hours of the day. I descended the stairs, walked toward the heavy entrance door, and prepared to exit the building to begin the journey across the town.
But Tokine intervened entirely. Tokine forced me to go to a bench. Her physical block was immediate and absolute. She stood directly in my path, completely halting my forward momentum toward the exit. Without a single word of explanation, she completely redirected my entire trajectory. She marched me back outside to the courtyard. She forced me to lay my head on her lap again. We arrived at the exact same stone bench near the cascading fountain. She sat down first, assuming her previous position. The absolute nature of her demand remained entirely unchanged. I had no alternative but to comply. I shifted my body, lowering myself once more until the complete weight of my head rested heavily on her lap. The physical angle was identical to the morning; my vision was completely sideways, staring out at the stone paving and the falling water.
The repetitive motion began instantly. Her fingers entered my hair, resuming the exact, canine-like petting motion as before. The continuous, physical scraping against my scalp, combined with the heavy, unyielding exhaustion deep in my muscles, created an overwhelming wave of lethargy. The splashing sound of the fountain blurred into a steady, hypnotic drone. I fell asleep on her lap. My eyes closed completely, shutting out the harsh light of the afternoon sun, and my consciousness simply faded into black, yielding entirely to the physical drain of the day.
The passage of time vanished entirely from my awareness until the physical sensation of movement broke the sleep. And after hours, she woke me up for dinner. The disruption was abrupt. I opened my eyes, the immediate visual confirming a complete shift in the environment. The bright, harsh light of the afternoon was entirely gone, replaced by the deep, long shadows and fading ambient light of the early evening. The sun had completely set. I lifted my head from her lap, my muscles incredibly stiff from the extended period of immobility on the hard stone bench. I stood up, the cool evening air washing over me.
We walked back into the inn and eat food. The evening meal was exactly like the previous ones—a mechanical intake of sustenance in the quiet dining area. As I sat at the table chewing the food, Euphyne noticed that Sogha will not leave their room. Euphyne observed the continued, absolute absence of Sogha from the communal area. The closed door upstairs remained entirely shut.
So he grabbed a plate of food. Euphyne stood up from his chair, acquiring a fresh ceramic plate and filling it with portions from the evening meal. He turned away from the table, holding the plate carefully. And went upstairs. His footsteps echoed solidly on the wooden staircase as he ascended to the upper floor, disappearing down the corridor toward Sogha's specific door. And after that head back to eat. A few moments later, Euphyne reappeared at the top of the stairs, descending back into the dining area without the plate. He walked directly back to his chair, sat down, and resumed his meal in silence.
The evening concluded. After eating, we go back to our room. I pushed my chair away from the table, the sheer physical exhaustion returning with absolute force. I walked slowly up the wooden staircase, every step feeling heavier than the last. I traversed the quiet corridor and pushed open the door to our assigned room.
I stepped inside. I was standing. My boots were planted firmly on the smooth wooden floorboards of the bedroom. I took a deep breath, the stale air of the room filling my lungs. I prepared to walk the remaining distance across the floor to the edge of the bed to physically lie down.
Suddenly, I'm laying down on the bed. There was absolutely zero transition. There was no physical movement of my legs walking across the room, no sensation of sitting on the mattress, and no feeling of lowering my back onto the sheets. In one microscopic fraction of a second, I was perfectly vertical, standing near the doorway, and in the absolute very next instantaneous moment, I was completely horizontal, my back perfectly flat against the mattress, my head resting heavily on the pillow. The spatial relocation was absolute, jarring, and completely devoid of any physical travel time.
I lay completely still on the bed, staring straight up at the dark ceiling, processing the sudden, impossible shift in physical coordinates. Tokine just laughed. The sound came from the side of the room, a light, completely casual noise that echoed in the quiet space. She walked over to the edge of the bed, looking down at my perfectly horizontal form. She said that she used her time magic to stop time and she grabbed me and puts me in bed. Her explanation was delivered clearly, detailing the exact, mechanical process of what she had just executed. The words hung in the air, confirming the absolute manipulation of the environment that had bypassed my physical movement entirely.
To be honest, I'm just tired. I did not care about the magical application or the sudden spatial shift. The overwhelming, crushing weight of sheer physical fatigue overrode any possible reaction or inquiry. The events of the day, the forced immobility, the repetitive physical contact, and the heavy atmosphere had drained completely every ounce of energy from my system. And went to sleep. I did not offer a single word of response to her laughter or her explanation. I simply stopped resisting the heavy pull of exhaustion dragging down my eyelids.
As I was closing my eyes, the vision of the room began to narrow rapidly. Through the very last, fading slit of my vision before my eyelids shut completely, I got a glimpse of Tokine panicking. Her physical demeanor had shifted violently and instantaneously. The casual laughter was completely gone. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, her entire posture rigid with sudden, intense alarm as she looked wildly around the room or at something I could not perceive. The absolute certainty hit my fading consciousness immediately: because this is not her plan. The panic was genuine, a sudden, violent deviation from whatever expected outcome she had arranged.
But I could not stay awake to see the resolution. My heavy eyelids finally closed completely, sealing off the frantic visual. And suddenly, everything goes dark. The total, crushing blackness of sleep consumed my mind instantly, erasing the room, the panic, and the physical exhaustion, leaving me floating in absolute, unbroken nothingness.