After those dreams, Kael avoided sleeping again. The thought of sleep felt more like a trap than comfort.
If he closed his eyes again, he was sure another nightmare would come crawling back.
Sunrise found him wide awake, standing by the small window in his room and gazing outside.
He sat up, bare feet touching the cool wooden floor.
The morning was quiet, except for the soft clinking of dishes from the kitchen.
Kael stretched his arms and yawned, then padded out of his room and into the kitchen.
Sylvia stood by the sink. She was humming softly, wrist-deep in soapy water.
Sunlight kissed her skin, making her silver hair look almost ethereal, like moonlight caught in motion. Her long hair was tied loosely behind her head.
The thin fabric of her nightgown was a little see-through, leaving a little to the imagination. Her breathtaking curves were outlined beneath the delicate material.
She was in her late thirties, yet her figure could rival any woman half her age, long legs, tight waist, and curves the morning sun seemed to worship.
Kael couldn't lie, Sylvia was easily one of the most stunning women he knew. Different from Mira's playful wildness or Anya's sharp, icy allure. And as much as he hated comparing… even Vivian, with all her soft charm and quiet fire, didn't exactly outshine Sylvia.
If anything, they were equals, each of them captivating in her own way.
"You're up early," she said without turning, her voice soft and slightly teasing. "How are you feeling?" She finally turned and looked at him.
Kael leaned against the doorway, exhaling through his mouth, "Better now." He smiled.
She looked at him with worried eyes. "You had another one of those dreams, didn't you?" She asked.
She was aware that Kael occasionally had nightmares—something that had plagued him for over fifteen years, ever since he was just a boy. Despite her efforts to get him help, nothing ever changed. In fact, the dreams only grew darker with time.
What troubled her most was how they had intensified right after his 16th birthday. From that night on, they became more frequent… and according to his recounts: far more disturbing.
Sylvia was convinced Kael's nightmares weren't just dreams. There was something off about them, too vivid, too symbolic. She'd never told him, but deep down, she feared they were fragments of something buried in his past. Something real.
Kael didn't answer right away. He simply nodded, eyes distant. The two dreams lingered in his mind like smoke, twisted, unsettling. He decided then and there not to tell Sylvia or Mira. Not yet. They were too disturbing. Too real.
Sylvia dried her hands with a towel and walked over, placing a gentle palm against his cheek. Her touch was warm, maternal, and yet, her gaze lingered, soft and unreadable, for a second too long.
"Did you at least get some rest?" she asked, voice low and concerned.
Kael gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Yeah. I slept enough. And don't worry... it's not so bad anymore."
But she didn't look convinced.
"You're always up before the sun," she murmured, biting her lower lip. "Always tired. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're afraid to sleep."
She hesitated, as if debating something. Then she sighed and turned toward the door. "I wish I could do something to help. But… I'm already running late."
He smiled. "Well, if you're running late, maybe you should go," Kael said, stepping forward. "Leave the dishes. I'll handle them."
She smiled at him, warm and proud. "Thank you. You're my hero."
And then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed his cheek, slow, tender, and just a little too long to be purely platonic.
"I'll freshen up quickly and leave," she said. "It's inventory day at the herb shop, Nara's probably already losing her mind."
The dishes didn't take long. Kael rinsed the last plate and set it aside, drying his hands on a cloth.
When he stepped out of the kitchen, Mira was sweeping with practiced focus, her small hands gripping the broom like it was a sword. She looked up when she noticed him.
"Hey Kael."
"Hey, did Sylvia leave already?"
"Yeah," Mira replied, continuing to
sweep. She stopped briefly and said, "Oh, and she said you should not forget to visit Sherry today." She grinned as she said that.
"Oh, about that. Yeah, I'll head over now," he replied. However, he noticed Mira's mischievous grin and just wondered, "What?"
"Nothing. I just hope Sherry takes pity on you," Mira said with a wicked little smirk, sweeping slower now for emphasis. "Maybe she'll finally help poor Kael lose his sacred treasure."
Kael groaned. "Can you not?"
Mira laughed. "Hey, I'm rooting for you! Virginity is a heavy burden. You've been carrying it like a hero in a tragedy. That poor virgin soul of yours deserves some mercy."
Kael sighed. He could only hope Mira was right. Honestly, he wouldn't mind. He was still a virgin and dying to lose it, but that was easier said than done.
Girls in this city had high standards. Painfully high. And Kael, coming from a poor home with nothing but calloused hands and second hand clothes, didn't stand a chance.
Most of them would rather marry into nobility than even glance at a guy like him. In fact, there were cases where women competed just to become the third or fourth wife of the same rich man just for the status. One nobleman could have up to four wives, all because he could afford it.
A regular man, like a fisherman or a woodcutter, had a hard time getting married unless he settled for someone plain, or someone with baggage. A widow, maybe. Or a girl with a bad reputation. The prettiest ones were always taken by merchants, nobles, or traveling warriors with silver in their pockets and stories on their tongues
Kael, on the other hand, couldn't even afford a decent pair of boots.
The morning sun, usually a an indicator of warmth, felt like a burning brand on young Lord Caelus's servered arm. The image of Kael, the commoner cutting off his wrist was still replaying in his head to this point.
He stood, or rather, sagged, before his uncle, Lord Haldricks, in the opulent breakfast chamber of the Haldricks estate. The scent of roasted pheasant and spiced wine did nothing to soothe the phantom pains lancing through his wrist, now a terrible, bandaged stump.
His face was pale, full of pain and humiliation, his slicked-back hair now tangly with sweat.
Lord Haldricks, the ruler and a man whose presence filled a room like an oak tree, sat at the head of the polished table, his usually composed features contorted into a mask of cold fury. His thick, salt-and-pepper beard trembled slightly.
"Repeat that, Caelus," Haldricks' voice was dangerously quiet, "A common cur did this to you? In the open market?"
Caelus nodded his head, clutching his bandaged arm. "Yes, Uncle. The filth... he attacked us. Without provocation! After we simply... engaged with a market girl." He omitted the details of the harassment, trying to preserve what little dignity he had left.
"He drew a blade, Uncle. My own sword, he used it! And then... he severed my hand. Kicked it back to me!"
His voice cracked with a mixture of terror and burning vengeance. "He even kicked Alaric in the gut! Alaric is still coughing blood, the healers say his insides are... ruined."
Haldricks slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the silverware. "Unprovoked, you say? Even if there was some... minor transgression on your part, this is an act of utter barbarism! A blatant challenge to our house! To the very order of this kingdom!" He rose, his heavy silk robes rustling, and began to pace, his eyes burning with outrage.
"This cannot stand. This will not stand," Haldrick's voice rose with each step. "If such an act goes unpunished, what message does it send to the common rabble? That they may defy us? That they may attack us in broad daylight without fear of reprisal? They will think our blood is cheap, our authority a jest! Our very lives will be forfeit in the gutters!"
He stopped, turning to face Caelus, his eyes like chips of flint. "Who is this boy? This insolent brute?"
"We don't know his name, Uncle," Caelus admitted, shame flooding him. "He was with the fruit seller... a young peasant, no older than nineteen. Skinny, but he moved like... like a seasoned knight. And his eyes... they changed. They turned black."
Haldricks scoffed, dismissing the last detail about Kael's eyes changing colour and moving like a knight. "Nonsense! A peasant trick. He will learn the true meaning of fear." He strode to a nearby bell pull and yanked it violently. A moment later, his captain of the guard, a burly man named Borin, entered.
"Borin!" Haldricks' command cracked like a whip. "Assemble a detail. I want this peasant found. The one who dared to lay hands on my nephew, Lord Caelus, and his companions. I want him brought to me, alive, if possible, so I may make an example of him. Or," he paused, his voice dropping to a chilling growl, "bring me his head. And the head of anyone who dares to shelter him. This insult will be washed away in his blood. No commoner will ever dare to think they can rise above their station and attack a noble of House Haldricks again!"
Borin bowed low. "It shall be done, my Lord." He cast a glance at the distraught Caelus, then exited, the heavy chamber door closing behind him, sealing Kael's fate in the eyes of House Haldricks.
Meanwhile, Kael was unaware. After a bit more banter with Mira, he left the house. The morning air outside was fresh, carrying the scent of dew and wildflowers.
He stepped onto the porch, blinking at the soft sunlight.
Sherry's house was just a few doors down, tucked behind a row of lilac bushes. Compared to the modest home Kael lived in, Sherry's was much more luxurious and bigger.
Kael barely made it up the front steps before the door opened.
And there she was: Sherry, wearing a snug blouse and a skirt that accentuated her curves and showed off her legs, greeted him with a glowing smile. Her long blonde hair was up in a messy bun, a few strands teasing her cheek.
"Hey, Sherry. Reporting for duty," Kael awkwardly announced himself, trying not to stare at her.
The moment she saw him, she sauntered over and wrapped him in a hug, casual, familiar, and just a touch too cozy to be purely innocent.
"Kael! I was hoping you didn't forget," she purred, pulling back just slightly… but still close enough for her perfume to do its job.
"Well, I'm here," he replied, clearing his throat. "What did you need help with again?"
She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, we'll get to that later. Don't you want to spend a little time with your old neighbor? I get so bored these days. Vivian's always off at her job, and Anya hasn't stayed with us since she ran off to that mage school."
Spend time with her? Kael hadn't expected that. But he definitely didn't mind. His mind was already racing ahead, imagining the possibilities, each one more exciting than the last.
But it was just his fantasies, he knew.
He gave a nervous chuckle, trying to play it cool. "Well… I guess I've got some time."
Sherry smiled, slow and knowing. She turned and gestured for him to follow.
"Come in. It's just Vivian and me home right now."
Kael followed her inside. But the moment he took a step inside, he froze.
There, across the room, Vivian lay stretched out on her stomach. She wore nothing from the waist up, her smooth back and sides exposed, her generous curves partially visible beneath the sunlight filtering through the window.
A thin towel was bunched beneath her chest, suggesting she'd just come from a bath.
Her nipples were hidden by the angle of her body, but the rest of her bare upper half was exposed, and impossible to ignore.