Tory laughs at dumb jokes. Still hums off-key as we move from one broken trail to the next. He looks at the world with that same unbreakable hope in his eyes—"beautiful trees," "majestic hills," "magical animals." Like every sunrise deserves a poem. Like the world hasn't already carved its initials into his back.
On the surface… he's the same.
But underneath?
Something's rotting.
He hides it well. Too well. But it's there, gnawing, like something chewing its way out of him slowly.
When his friends died—when he killed them—I thought maybe he'd cry. Shatter. Scream. But he just... kept going. Same smile. Same dumb songs. Same everything.
But I know better. Something inside Tory is changing, and he won't say it. Maybe he doesn't even know it himself.
And I won't press.
Because if I were him, I wouldn't want to talk about it either.
We spotted the city an hour out—a gray blur on the horizon, wrapped in smoke or mist or something worse. Carts stretched down the road, all stopped. Some travelers stood around in clumps, complaining or whispering. Others just stared ahead, nervous.
"Looks like trouble," I muttered, tugging my hood lower.
"They've locked it down," Tory said, squinting at the wall towers. "That many carts stuck outside? Something's off."
"You think it's the bounty hunters?"
"Maybe. Or something worse."
We got closer.
I didn't jump off the cart—I could barely move without pulling at my bandages—so I leaned forward from the seat and called to the guards at the front gate.
"Hey! What's going on?"
One of them looked over sharply. "Stay back! The city's locked down under royal orders."
Tory stood, straightened his robes, and climbed down with practiced ease. Calm. Confident. Charming.
"Royal orders?" he said as he walked up. "Good. That means you're expecting us. We were sent by the king. Delay us, and your heads might roll faster than the gate closes."
The guard blinked. "W-wait, the king sent someone already? That fast?"
Tory didn't even answer.
I gave him a look as he returned to the cart, and he raised his book with a grin, showing the shimmering ink of a freshly cast spell.
"Imperium Fidelis," he said. "Makes me... persuasive."
"Useful," I said, impressed.
He shrugged. "Didn't think you'd mind a little magic-assisted diplomacy."
"I don't." I watched the gate swing open. "Remind me to copy that spell later."
The moment we entered the city, the sky went black.
Not like storm clouds. Like... midnight. Lanterns lit themselves. People walked fast and kept their heads down. Shadows twisted strangely near the edges of buildings.
A guard inside stepped toward us. "You two—were you sent by the king?"
"We were," Tory replied without missing a beat.
The guard let out a long breath. "You'll want to speak to the captain. Whole city's caught in some kind of illusion magic. Wizards, warlocks, paladins—we've called them all. Nothing seems to work."
I didn't need to ask. A spell this strong—this immersive—it had to be cast from inside the walls. No magic from miles away could wrap a city this tight. Not without cracking.
Part of me wanted to turn the cart around and never look back.
But Tory?
He looked like he wanted to help.
Maybe he thought fixing this would help him balance the scale. Maybe this was his way of making up for the lives he took.
Or maybe... he just didn't know what else to do.
We stopped at a tavern—The Broken Candle—just inside the city square. The light inside flickered like it couldn't decide if it was candle or spell.
We slid into a booth in the corner.
Tory flagged down the bartender. "Beer, please. And water for her."
I blinked at him.
"You remembered," I said quietly.
"You told me "Alcohol is a distraction for lost people.", and Your not lost."
I smirked.
The bartender came back with a smile. "Sorry, love. All payments are processed through the records room. Gotta come with me."
Tory stood. "Be right back."
I sat alone.
A few minutes passed.
Then I felt it.
That strange tickle on my neck. A whisper of movement. Magic—barely even there.
I moved fast—too fast for my ribs—and swung my silver dagger up behind me, pressing it to the throat of whoever thought they could sneak up on me.
The man smiled.
"Again with the dagger?" he said lazily. "Didn't you learn the first time?"
I blinked.
He wasn't behind me anymore.
He was next to me. Legs crossed. Elbow resting on the table. Holding my glass of water like it was a goblet of wine.
"Really? Water? In a tavern? Gods, I knew you were strict, but this is next level."
I barely felt his magic.
Let alone the teleportation spell.
...Fucking Loki.
[Day 17 / 3650]