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12

The air was heavy as we trudged upward, each step a reminder of the ordeal behind us. My chest still hummed with that unsettling, otherworldly energy. Every pulse sent a ripple through me, a reminder that I wasn't the same person who had entered the cave. The Dawnhound led the way, its glowing eyes casting faint light against the jagged walls of the passage. My companion—still trembling but steadfast—walked close to my side, its spines occasionally brushing against my leg.

The incline was unrelenting, and the air grew fresher, tinged with hints of earth and grass. We were getting close. The golden light filtering through the rocks grew brighter, dispelling the oppressive darkness of the cave. For the first time since entering, I felt a flicker of hope.

We emerged into the blinding sunlight. I squinted, raising a hand to shield my eyes, but the warmth was welcome after the damp chill of the cavern. The landscape stretched out before us—a sprawling valley dotted with wildflowers and edged by dense forest. To the east, a dirt path wound toward a cluster of buildings nestled at the base of a hill. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, the unmistakable signs of civilization.

"Finally," I muttered, the word a mix of relief and exhaustion. My voice sounded foreign to my ears, tinged with a resonance I couldn't shake.

The Dawnhound turned to me, its gaze inscrutable. It gave a low rumble, almost like approval, then padded forward, its steps purposeful. My companion chirped softly, clearly eager to leave the cave's memory behind. I nodded at it, scratching its head briefly before following.

The town came into sharper focus as we drew closer. Weathered wooden houses stood in neat rows, their windows glowing with soft light. Villagers moved about, some carrying bundles of firewood, others tending to small carts laden with goods. They glanced at us as we approached, their expressions ranging from curiosity to unease.

I couldn't blame them. Between my disheveled appearance, the Dawnhound's imposing presence, and my companion's unusual features, we weren't exactly a reassuring sight.

At the edge of the town, a woman with sharp eyes and a bow slung over her shoulder stepped forward, blocking our path. Her stance was wary but not hostile.

"Who are you?" she asked, her tone firm. "And what brings you here?"

I opened my mouth to answer but hesitated. How could I explain everything that had happened without sounding mad? Instead, I opted for simplicity.

"We were lost in the caves," I said, gesturing back toward the mountains. "Just looking for rest. Nothing more."

Her eyes flicked to the Dawnhound, then to the faint golden glow that still pulsed faintly beneath my skin. She didn't lower the bow, but her expression softened slightly.

"Rest you can find," she said. "But answers will be needed." She stepped aside, motioning for us to pass. "Speak with Eldrin at the inn. He'll know what to do."

I nodded my thanks and led the way into the town. The dirt path gave way to cobblestones, the sound of our footsteps echoing faintly. My chest still ached, and the weight of the Dawnhound's watchful presence was a constant reminder that my journey wasn't over. But for now, I needed rest. We all did.

The inn was easy to spot, a large, welcoming building with warm light spilling from its windows. A wooden sign above the door read The Restful Hearth, swaying gently in the breeze. I pushed the door open, the scent of roasted meat and spiced ale enveloping me instantly.

Inside, the atmosphere was lively but not rowdy. A fire crackled in the hearth, and patrons sat at sturdy wooden tables, sharing food and laughter. The innkeeper—an older man with a thick beard and a kind expression—looked up as we entered. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of the Dawnhound but quickly masked his surprise.

"You'll be Eldrin, then?" I asked, my voice low but steady.

He nodded, setting down the mug he'd been polishing. "And you've brought quite the company, haven't you?"

"We need a place to stay," I said. "And answers, if you've got them."

He studied me for a moment, his gaze lingering on the faint glow on my chest. Then he motioned toward a staircase at the back of the room.

"Rooms are upstairs," he said. "We'll talk when you're ready."

I didn't argue. The weight of exhaustion bore down on me, and even the Dawnhound seemed content to rest, settling by the hearth with a low huff. My companion stuck close as I climbed the stairs, its quiet presence a small comfort. The room Eldrin had offered was simple but clean, with a sturdy bed and a small table by the window.

I collapsed onto the mattress, the ache in my muscles giving way to a dull throb. My companion curled up at the foot of the bed, its spines flattening as it drifted off to sleep. For the first time in what felt like days, I allowed myself to relax, my mind spinning with unanswered questions.

The fragments in my chest pulsed faintly, their rhythm steady but unrelenting. I knew this rest was only temporary. Whatever had happened in the cave, whatever I had become—it wasn't over. The Dawnhound's gaze had told me as much, and the carvings on the walls had etched their message into my mind.

But for now, the world outside could wait. I closed my eyes, the soft crackle of the fire downstairs fading into the background, and let sleep claim me.