The streets were already busy with morning trade by the time we reached the edge of town. Market stalls spilled over with fruit, cloth, and trinkets, the air alive with cheerful haggling and the distant clatter of wagon wheels. I kept my hood low and my steps quick, doing my best to look like just another traveler—not a displaced goddess or a girl with golden blood still half-dried on her neck. Beside me, Mousikí strode along as if nothing in the world could trouble him—except, perhaps, the thought of facing a tavern full of angry patrons he’d apparently hexed. His mismatched eyes sparkled with amusement every time I shot him a nervous glance, but I noticed how his hand never strayed far from the pouch at his belt. “Remind me again,” I whispered, “what exactly did you do to get yourself banned from this place?” He grinned, a little too innocently. “Magic, music, and a bit too much wine. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.” I wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or terrifying, but I tightened my grip on Ying’s dagger anyway. The closer we got to the tavern, the more my nerves buzzed—not just with fear of trouble, but with the sense that every step was taking me farther from the life I’d once known. We rounded a corner, and there it was: the tavern with the faded red sign and a pair of grumpy-looking men already sweeping the steps. Mousikí paused, suddenly a bit less cocky. “Ladies first,” Mousikí said with a mock bow, stepping aside and gesturing grandly toward the tavern door. I spun around and shot him an unimpressed glare. “Are you scared, or just pretending to be a gentleman?” My voice carried a teasing edge, though I was genuinely curious which it was. He rolled his mismatched eyes, lips quirking in a half-smile. “Does it matter?” he shot back, then gave me a gentle but impatient nudge toward the entrance. “Now quit stalling and open the door.” I huffed, but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips as I reached for the handle—hoping whatever waited inside, we could handle it together. As I pushed open the heavy door, a wave of warmth and noise washed over me. The tavern was alive with every kind of creature imaginable: a trio of dwarves hunched over a chessboard, a pair of nymphs whispering in the corner, a hulking minotaur counting coins with delicate care. Laughter and clinking mugs filled the air, underscored by music that shimmered like starlight. Near the hearth, a siren lounged in a sunken pool, her tail glinting silver in the dim light. She sang a haunting melody that made even the rowdiest patrons pause and listen, her voice weaving through the chatter, soft and alluring. I hesitated in the doorway, caught between nerves and awe. It was a far cry from the sleepy inns I’d known as a child—this place thrummed with magic and secrets. Mousikí stepped in behind me, his shoulders tensing as a few heads turned our way. “Don’t stare,” he murmured, lips barely moving. “Just look for the bar. And try not to draw attention.” Easier said than done, I thought, as I forced myself to move forward, heart pounding. Mousikí slipped in behind a hulking ogre locked in a heated argument with the barkeep. “Me not stupid! Me want refund!” the creature bellowed, slamming a fist on the counter so hard that every bowl of snacks jumped. The barkeep—broad-shouldered, with charred-looking skin, a missing eye, and a latticework of scars—didn’t flinch. He scowled up at his customer, voice like gravel. “No refunds. You break it, you bought it. Or do you want me to toss you out like that cursed bard?” At the mention of the bard, I saw Mousikí wince ever so slightly, but he kept his eyes fixed on the commotion. The ogre grumbled, stomped his massive feet, and finally lumbered away, muttering under his breath. I leaned closer to Mousikí, lowering my voice. “Can mortals even see all these creatures?” He shook his head, whispering back, “You remember the veil around Vildora? There’s something like it here. Most mortals can’t see magic folk unless we want to be seen. Otherwise, the veil hides us.” The barkeep’s one good eye swept the room, and for a heartbeat, I felt it settle directly on us. I swallowed, suddenly very aware of the dagger at my side.
“I thought I told you to get lost, bard,” the barkeep growled, his one good eye narrowing as soon as Mousikí stepped forward. Mousikí cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. “Look, I know, but I just need—” “You cursed the whole tavern with your blasted music,” the barkeep cut him off, voice rising as he leaned across the counter. “Half my regulars were croaking like frogs for a week.” Mousikí tried to muster a disarming smile. “That was an accident—” The barkeep slammed his palm down, silencing him. “And when I kicked you out—after all the years I worked to build this place up—you had the nerve to come back? What did I promise you if you ever set foot here again, eh?” He jabbed a finger toward his missing eye, lips curled in a snarl. “Said I’d give you a matching pair, didn’t I? And now you show up with a guest.” A dangerous grin spread across his scarred face. “Tell you what, why don’t we make this interesting… Hey, giants! Got a fresh training dummy for you!” Two of the hulking creatures at a nearby table perked up, their eyes lighting with anticipation as they pushed their chairs back. Mousikí’s bravado faltered, and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Gentlemen, let’s all be civil! You let me grab my flute and I’ll be out of your hair—no need for anyone to lose another eye!” The giants cracked their knuckles, rising to their full, intimidating height as the tension in the tavern thickened. I tightened my grip on the dagger at my side, heart pounding. This was about to get very, very interesting. “And what are you gonna do about it?” one of the giants rumbled, his voice shaking the bottles on the shelves. “Oh, me?” Mousikí flashed a nervous smile and took a quick step back. “Oh, I’m not going to do anything at all.” Before I could react, he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me forward like a living shield. “But my friend here? She’s got quite a talent. Go on, say hi!” I stumbled forward, glaring over my shoulder at Mousikí. My cheeks burned as the giants loomed over me, grinning with far too many teeth for comfort. “Um… hi?” I managed, doing my best not to sound terrified—or furious at Mousikí for volunteering me as his bodyguard. The giants exchanged a look, then burst out laughing—a deep, rumbling sound that made the floor vibrate. One reached down, thick fingers the size of sausages, and poked my shoulder with mock gentleness. “She’s barely bigger than my boot,” the first one snorted. “You hiding behind a girl now, bard?” I straightened my spine, forcing myself not to flinch or retreat. “I wouldn’t underestimate me,” I said, surprising myself at how steady my voice sounded. “You might regret it.” The second giant grinned, revealing a mouthful of jagged teeth. “Big words for such a little thing.” Behind me, Mousikí tried to edge toward the bar. “While you’re all distracted, maybe I’ll just grab my flute—” The barkeep slammed a heavy mug on the counter. “Nobody moves until we’re done here. If the girl wants to play hero, let’s see what she’s got.” The tavern had gone silent. All eyes were on me and the giants, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of spilled ale. I tightened my grip on my dagger, heart pounding, and tried to remember I was more than I appeared—even if I didn’t quite believe it myself. “Let’s make this quick,” I muttered, ready for whatever happened next.
