Brimmond. A mostly human populated city in the topmost part of the island, hidden away in pale grass, with the tall northern mountains as its backdrop. It was nothing special, and that was the reason why Korie took to it so easily for the past five years. It'd become commonplace for him to switch residency every year or so, but despite the changes in habitats, the comfort of the city was undeniable.

  It was the sort of comfort that left him complacent.

  That, Korie could not stand. Complacency, and the paranoia that came with it. On that particular night, he'd been left restless, fighting and rolling around in his bed until sunlight was starting to brighten the room with blues and yellows. The anxiety was practically frying his mind and making all the hairs on his arms and back stand on end. It was a cruel irony, that the peace of mind the city granted him was fueling a war within himself.

  He was safe there. He didn't have to fear anymore. He could live his life without the anticipation of everything crumbling down before him. A life akin to a flimsy card tower surrounded by strong rock walls; brittle, ready to fall despite all that protected it. It was something he was aware of, something that he thought about every day. So why did he still live a life of paranoia? It was not the freedom he'd imagined for himself when he'd made his escape, those ten years ago.

  Ten years. Five since he'd settled in Brimmond. One would think the fear would've gone away at that point, but it had not. In fact, as soon as any reminder of the past crossed his day-to-day, he'd find himself pacing around his loft, thinking all about the exit points of the space he lived in. The wide, sliding window, the staircase in the corner, the trap door access to the roof.

  It would all play out like a well-practiced theatrical act. First, his suitcase, located between his oak wood cupboard and desk, which he made sure to always leave clean and tidy as can be. His clothes and belongings, which he made sure to keep few, would be folded in with a practiced maneuver, or shoved in depending on the rush. Then, he'd collect his rucksack, hidden below the bed along with his longbow and quiver. Final step, exit from any of the three exit points of the loft and never look back.

  Some would call him paranoid. Because, yeah, he was. He was obviously paranoid of a cult coming to make him pay the price of betraying their higher power.

  And so the cycle would continue. From paranoia to complacency then right back around. Korie had no friends in that city, no family he could rely on, and he was doing nothing with his newfound freedom. Quite the opposite, what with his constant avoidance of any long term relationship that spanned beyond acquaintanceship. It could all be ripped away from him at any time, he worried himself. They could destroy everything he loved. And so his life remained at a standstill, in a boring city with a mundane life surrounded by regular people. But it was safe. He could hardly ask for more.

  The light of the sun was casting a glow upon the room at that point. It was nearly time for work, and despite his inability to get any rest, Korie stood up and stretched in preparation. His feet caused the floorboards to groan with each step, so he'd taken to walking gently in such early mornings. The loft he lived in was part of a home with very young children whose sleep he wouldn't want to interrupt. He was already on thin ice with how late in the evenings he'd return from work.

  There was a folded up server's outfit on the desk next to his single bed. A habit, one of the good ones. He enjoyed being prepared for any occasion; having an organized routine and following it kept him on track and away from falling into bad habits.

  He'd gone down such a rabbit hole before and he was not keen on a reprise.

  A pair of black trousers, well-fitted with a formal and neat appearance despite the establishment not quite meeting those standards. A white button-up shirt, long sleeves folded at the wrists. Comfortable, slip-resistant black shoes, the insoles of which were practically rubbed off from overuse. A black tie and a half apron of the same colour. It would all appear so standard on any other citizen of their city.

  He often wished the same applied to him. But every morning, as he fixed his tie with ashen fingers around his neck, he'd watch the twinkling lights dancing on his skin with a bitter, haunting familiarity. His freckles glowed icy blue as they flickered on his cheeks and neck, his coal dark skin, a tint as colourless as the daily newspaper.

  He could hear muffled voices coming from downstairs now. He took his shoes in one hand from his cupboard, grabbing his dark green coat with the other and throwing it over his shoulder. He was light on his feet with a distinctly elven manner as he stepped down the stairs, holding the textured wooden railing. The varnish had long faded from the planks in that home, but the two owners had neither the time nor the funds for a renovation.

  The parents, an elven man and a human woman, were a tale as old as time. Disapproving families or something of the sort had them backed into a corner in terms of gold, forcing them to raise two children with low paying jobs. They were housing Korie in their loft, after all; that certainly spoke of their economic struggles. To allow a stranger to live in their ceiling, let alone him… it showed desperation.

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  The owners themselves appeared… restrained. Korie appreciated that, though he could hear their mutterings through the floor and the open stairs in the middle of the night. Rarely were their whispers about him. But when they spoke of ‘the darkspawn’, it was clear they meant him. With skin so shadow-like, it was difficult not to mention it.

  That particular morning he was not keen on the social act, so he walked as silently as he could towards the door, sliding his shoes on after standing on the front door mat. He opened the door and was immediately greeted by the cool breeze; it was always early winter in that city, or so it felt like. The sun was deceptive. The weather never stopped being cold, even as it shone brightly over the cobbled streets, making the stone shimmer with the layer of early morning frost. Korie inhaled deeply, the sharp bite of the air seeping into his skin, its coldness a constant reminder of the chill that ran through his veins. His body was always ice cold, much like a corpse rather than the heat of someone whose heart still beat. The frigid weather only seemed to deepen the unrelenting cold he’d grown so accustomed to.

  He slid on his coat, adjusting the draping fabric over his shoulders and fixing up the cuffs of his sleeves. Most of the items he owned had some value of sentiment to them, good or bad, and this coat was one of his first purchases after freedom. It was well loved, with stitching here and there, damages from overuse.

  Brimmond was waking up as he began to walk. He passed a couple of vendors setting up their carts, bundled in thick coats and gloves, their breaths visible in the cold morning air. One was arranging crates of apples, the fruit slightly dulled by frost but still bright in comparison to the grey cobblestone houses and shops. Another was wrestling with a tarp that had stiffened overnight, muttering under his breath as he tried to secure it against the wind. A brown coated dog trotted by, its long coat thick and matted, sniffing at the scraps near the vendors. It paused to watch him, tilting its head, before losing interest and padding away.

  The town’s stone buildings, their shutters still closed against the chill, lined the narrow streets. Some had faint trails of smoke curling from their chimneys, while others remained dark and quiet. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from a bakery a few doors down, a scent that was mouthwatering on an empty stomach. His had a word to say about it, grumbling faintly, but he ignored it. The tavern would have something for him to eat before opening, if he managed to get there before the breakfast rush.

  The Low Lantern came into view, standing tall at the junction of two bustling cobblestone streets. The building itself was constructed primarily from sturdy spruce wood, its weathered planks darkened by years of exposure to the humidity and snowfall. Those support beams had soaked up the water for countless seasons, it being one of the older buildings in the city. Lanterns hung outside the tavern’s entrance and at each corner, their warm glow illuminating the cobblestones below and cutting through the chilly morning fog.

  The windows were decorative aside from letting some light in during the day, and considering their clientele, had hardly any function.

  There had been an ambitious attempt at an expansion a few years back. It resulted in a large cobblestone addition jutting out from the back of the building, the new kitchen. They'd pushed the limits of their lot size, building as close to the fence of the establishment next to theirs as they could've. The alleyway that was formed became the route to the employee entry, but none of Korie's coworkers really used it. It was an uncomfortably slim path with a permanent stink of rot and waste, due to the large rubbish bin that had been crammed into the back wall. Not even strays would come searching for food, though rats and other vermin found the smell and taste of their rubbish magnificent. Or so Korie would assume with how frequently he'd get to enjoy their company during his breaks.

  Korie walked into the alley, glancing behind himself as he tried to fix up his hair. His hair was wavy with a pale white shade, cold rather than warm, and he kept it long over his face and pointy ears, cutting it a bit shorter the rest of the way. It was his most normal feature, along with his right eye, an arctic hue.

  He reached the back door and opened it, avoiding the stench of rubbish by holding the edge of his coat over his nose and mouth. The kitchen was large, with wooden counters following the walls as well as a sink and cold storage. One of his coworkers, Emilia, was working on one of the daily morning preparations, cutting up loaves of bread and sorting them aside. She was a nice old lady, whose eyesight was failing her, but despite that fact she was a great cook and a pleasant personality.

  “Good day, Korie,” She spoke with a lazy wave, and he gave a gentle bow of his head as a greeting to her in return. “Early as always.”

  “Good morning,” he said, his own tone soft and rough from the lack of proper rest. He cleared his throat, took off his coat and hung it on one of the wall hangers across the door.

  “Youth like you should be coming to work late,” She said to him as he was putting on his apron properly, rolling his sleeves up. “You need to get out more, boy. You've got no reason to work yourself to the bone. Enjoy your age while you're still young.”

  Korie wasn't sure how to respond to that for a beat. She'd never bothered with giving him advice before. Most of the time she cared little about other people's business. Or so Korie had assumed.

  “I've got plenty of decades left in me,” he reasoned. “I don't need to rush.”

  “Oh, you naive man,” She shook her head. She didn't comment any more on that front, and Korie appreciated it. He hadn't expected to be judged so early in the morning, and he was not used to having to reason for himself. Usually, it was the customers doing the judging. It's not like he had the freedom to tell them to fuck off.

  Despite its height and size, the interior of the tavern was a lot more… humble. Circular, dark wooden tables were around the center for those willing to sit under the light of a candle chandelier, but most customers picked the booths. They were separated from one another with slim walls, allowing for a semblance of privacy that their regulars quite appreciated. A part of those regulars were shady people choosing to visit the Low Lantern for their criminal dealings, but the restaurant’s reputation was not defined by them. Korie cleaned up the bar counter, sorted out glasses and made sure all the tables were clean, and the OPEN sign was flipped around, facing the glass that revealed the outside world.

  And so another regular shift at the low-end tavern began.