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The sun shines through into the small room, casting warm light on the soft-colored walls. A sleepy groan stirred beneath the blanket pile on the low bed. One foot, callused and boot-worn, kicked itself free of the tangle, followed by a sigh.
Anaya Duskwell blinked crust from their eyes, squinting at the golden light painting the floorboards. They hated waking this early, but some force—likely guilt or the tavern’s cursed floorboard that creaked like a dying frog—had gotten them up. Again.
The room was small but layered with character: thick woven blankets, a shelf of herbal jars, and a cracked mirror with thread-charms pinned to its corners. One, a twisted black and silver knot, hung crookedly in the corner. Anaya never touched it. It had been Kaelen’s.
And tucked in a small box beneath a loose floorboard, wrapped in faded cloth, was the earring. The moonstone one. The one someone left outside the Hollow’s gate after Kaelen vanished. Anaya kept it hidden. Close, but never worn. It felt like a promise — or a curse.
"Still not back, moonshine," they muttered, voice hoarse. Their chest ached in the space between ribs.
They stretched and changed, opting for their red vest and cross-strapped black shirt. Their signature boots were waiting by the door, always exactly where they kicked them off. There was a comfort in repetition.
The Hollow below was still asleep—except the hearth, which never died, thanks to root threads Kaelen had helped them bind. Anaya made a note not to step on the weak ward circle still etched in ash along the hearth’s edge. They’d never completed it.
They didn’t want to erase him.
Their fingers tightened around the glass mug as they poured the morning blend of dark tea and firewater. One sip, and they were moving.
By mid-morning, Halflight Hollow was alive with the usual: fae beast-handlers grumbling over bitter brews, humans muttering about border permits, and two dwarves arguing about the ethics of love potions. Anaya danced between tables with practiced ease, their motions fluid but never too close. Physical touch lingered uninvited sometimes, and they’d long learned how to redirect it with a tray, a glare, or, on one memorable occasion, a skillet.
They loathed how often patrons assumed things.
It happened again near noon. A wandering minstrel was cornered at a booth by a heavy-lidded merchant whose gold teeth gleamed brighter than his intentions. The fae lad’s expression screamed discomfort.
Anaya didn’t ask.
They appeared at the table with a calm smile and a mug of wyrmblood cider.
"This one’s on the house," they said, tone sugar-wrapped steel. "But you’ll be leaving now."
The merchant’s sneer faltered. "I was just—"
"I said now."
He opened his mouth to protest—until the skillet came into view. Held loose. Polished. Seasoned.
He left.
The minstrel murmured a shaky thank you. Anaya only nodded and slid the cider to them. Their heart thudded in a familiar way—not fear, not adrenaline. Just the echo of knowing what it was like to be watched too long by someone who only wanted parts of you.
They didn’t want parts. They didn’t want that at all.
Love was one thing. Lust was... unnecessary. Too loud. Too messy. The very thought made their skin crawl, like oil over fine thread.
Let them flirt. Let them pine. Anaya would keep their own heart quiet, folded, and untouched. Like the charm behind the bar.
By dusk, the Hollow filled with tension. Talk of another border patrol skirmish buzzed in whispers. Fae nobles blaming humans. Human merchants muttering about "knife-ears." Anaya tolerated neither. Not here. Not in the place Kaelen called sacred.
"Keep it civil or get out," they said from behind the bar.
And they meant it.
As the firelight flickered and lanterns burned low, Anaya finally returned upstairs. They peeled off their boots, brushed their teeth with a quiet spell, and sat at the edge of the bed.
The thread-charm still hung where it always had.
They didn’t touch it.
"Goodnight, moonshine."
They lay back in the dark, listening to the heartbeat of the Hollow below.
It sounded a little like Kaelen’s laugh.
And a lot like home.