Sevika's bitter words swirled heavily in his mind.
Grow up, kid.
I told you to make a choice…. unfortunately, it was the wrong one.
Every night, he visited the same bar; sat on the same stool. The one in the far corner, away from prying eyes, granting him refuge from the world. In these moments, he would allow his mind to wander home, now thousands of miles away. He was exiled by Sevika, a local chembaron who forced him to open his eyes to the unspoken truths of his relationship with the blue-haired girl with amethyst eyes.
He wanted to hate her for what she did. Hate her for forcing him to leave his people. Despise her for putting his lover in a situation in which she lost herself, butchering everyone around her in effigy as she mourned his name. But as much as he wanted to curse Sevika, his mind would always come to the same conclusion:
She was right.
His love for the girl posed a danger to everyone around them. To her credit, she made tremendous progress in the year since he came to visit her, one fateful snowy night. She warred with her demons, her only prize a modicum of sanity. She gained the respect and admiration of the sanctuary, by her spirit and presence alone. She excelled in her newfound passion for fashion and design; a productive hobby she simply adored.
To anyone looking in from the outside, she was on the road to a healthy, loving recovery. But all of her hard-earned progress became undone the moment he was shot; the moment she saw him fall before her; the one thing in this world her heart could not bear to witness.
Not that he fared any better when confronted with the same scenario.
He watched her perish one-hundred times over, in front of his eyes - each time, a part of himself sharing in her pain; dying with her death. He was victim to the madness that accompanied their love; killing an unarmed man who believed she was the daughter of chaos; frightening her in the pleasure he took in destroying the one who dared to pose a threat to her.
Each morning, he medicated himself with herbs picked from her fields: her touch. Her smile. Her embrace. An intoxicating blend of passion and devotion meticulously formulated for his consumption, and his alone. He chose his addiction willingly, he would tell himself - as all junkies do.
To say they were hopelessly in love would be an understatement.
And so, left with no alternatives, they accepted Sevika's offer of relocation and found themselves in the snowy woods of northern Ionia: 'the land of balance', or so the travel brochure said.
The bartender approached him, marks on his face of a hundred winters, gentle smile on the lips of the bearer of a thousand tales. Still, every tale was a new book, and the unwritten tale of his young customer was a telling one, indeed.
In the first week of the boy's arrival, he looked upon the young man as another traveling soul, seeking refuge inside his bar as a reprieve from the roads between himself and his destination. By the sixth month, he reached out to the boy, warning him that the liquids he served would accelerate his downfall, not soothe his pain.
By the year's end, the bartender realized his error - the child did not come to his bar to escape his destiny, but to embrace it.
"The usual, son?"
"Please, Fred."
Like clockwork, the old man turned towards the bar and reached for the familiar bottle of whiskey; the kid's choice of drowning. He pulled a glass from underneath the bar, and slowly poured the hazel anesthetic inside.
"Kid, one of these days…"
"I know, Fred," he responded with a weary smile, "and I appreciate your concern, as always."
The bartender sighed and slid the glass towards the young man, a shake of his head his only way of signaling his objections to the kid's demise. "I hope today's the day… for your sake."
"Me too, Fred. me too."
Their conversation was interrupted by an abrupt gust of the air emanating from the front door, signaling a new arrival.
The patron kept his eyes forward; there was no need to turn attention; he recognized her energy; the one he spent the last year of his life searching for. His ears focused on the sound of footsteps against the aging floorboard, but her entrance was silent - signs of a woman intimately familiar with the establishment, attempting to mask her presence as she approached the bar.
He kept his focus on the drink before him, the aromatic beverage occupying his senses. She pulled the stool next to him, the distinctive sound of wood scraping against itself her only tell. Flashes of crimson darted swiftly in his peripheral as she gracefully maneuvered to her seat; her voice as welcoming as he envisioned.
"I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all," he replied, acknowledging her as an act of courtesy.
She kept herself wrapped in a cloak from head to toe, lips protruding slightly from underneath her hood. They sat in silence, gently basking in each other's auras, searching for the perfect move for her opening gambit.
He scanned the room to see if others recognized her. The patrons went about their business, warming themselves by the fire, arguing over a bad hand in the card game; burying their sorrows in the bottle. If they knew of her, they didn't care.
"My name is Seline," she said, breaking the silence, delicately placing her pawn on the chessboard.
"Ekko. Nice to meet you."
"Ekko… what a pretty name. How fares your travels?"
Her voice was a siren's call, urging the ocean's sailors towards the shallow reefs. He couldn't find the words to mislead her; the best he could muster was the half-truth.
"They have been bitter. But, today is a good day. I hope yours fares well."
"It is," she replied, amused at his answer, "although..."
She set the bait, hoping he would ask of her troubles, luring him deeper into the waters. It was not enough to feast on her prey - the best meals came from the willing participants of the game. He grabbed his drink and downed in one steady gulp before pounding his glass on the table.
"Fred, another round," he said, hoping to dull his senses to release her grasp of him.
"Coming up, kid."
Clever, she mused to herself. He won't be easy.
"Are you from these lands?" she asked, attempting to reset the game. The bartender poured the young man another drink, and gave her a gentle nod before returning his efforts to the bar.
"I'm not."
"Oh, and where are you from?"
"Zaun," he replied, "and you?"
"I've lived in these lands for as long as I can remember. They are harsh, but with suffering there is beauty."
"Do you suffer alone?" he asked, turning his gaze towards her for the first time. She could feel him inching closer to her lure; a small nibble was all she needed. Her body was flush with excitement in anticipation of the feast.
He stared into her eyes, allowing himself to become lost in the amber pools that had engulfed so many others before him. He understood the dangers but knew there was no other option. To win the game, he would have to lose it.
"I do," she replied coyly, every word carefully measured, lest he escapes, "but I welcome company in my misery, from time to time. If you would like to…"
Her voice wormed into his mind, carefully prying its contents open; flipping through the catalog of memories as a parent would her child's treasured storybook. He was indeed from Zaun. A child born of strife and misery, molded by circumstances that would propel him to become a folklore champion for his people.
But there was also a sadness about him; self-exiled to follow the woman he adored to the far reaches of the earth. Searching for someone to help guide her in her troubled life. Searching for…
She gasped audibly, body recoiling, closing his memories as she slowly realized his true intentions.
"I'm flattered, Ahri. Truly." He spoke softly, with a smile, so as not to alarm her further. "You are as charming as the stories say," he continued, turning his attention to his drink. "Under different circumstances, I would happily satisfy your hunger. But as you can see, I'm taken."
"Well played," she replied with a heavy sigh, the succulent taste of his memories lingering on her lips. "You truly love her."
"I do," he said, edging his drink closer, "it's why I need your help."
"You mean… for her?"
"Yes", he replied.
She sat in contemplation, carefully deciding her next steps. Humans never sought her help; they hunted her, for her Vastayan features. But she was intrigued by the tales of his memories, and admired his willingness to put himself in danger for the one he loved.
"Why do you seek my aid? If you know who I am, you know what I am," she said coldly, hoping to end his request.
"I know you're not a monster."
"You don't know me."
"No, I don't. But Fred does. And I trust him."
She shot an icy glance at the bartender, her father figure, in a sense of disbelief. She trusted him with her innermost secret. It was supposed to be theirs, alone. Not to be shared with anyone else.
"Don't be angry with this old man, lass…" he said quietly, sensing her justified disappointment. "The boy needs you."
"I can't help you, Ekko," she replied, anger at the old man's betrayal still fresh on her mind. Secretly, she wanted to help, but couldn't let the treachery go unchallenged. "You'll have to look elsewhere. I'm sorry."
"Young lady…" Fred began, with the tone of a disappointed parent.
"I'm two-hundred years older than you," she muttered quietly to herself. Unfortunately, she grossly underestimated the old man's ears, finely tuned to sense children's attitudes.
"Arhi! Don't give me sass, now. I know you're upset with me, but I don't care how old you are - I didn't teach you to be disrespectful." Fred crossed his arms and gave her 'the look'. Her magic was no match for his parental death stare.
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry," she pouted, slumping her body further into her cloak. She knew he only called her by name when she was in trouble.
He sighed, softening his posture, lowering his head so he could find her eyes underneath the clothes she so desperately wanted to disappear into. She lowered her head further, knowing her protests would be disarmed if she met his caring eyes. She would budge, eventually. She just wanted to soak in anger for a little while longer.
He knew how difficult her life was; the last thing he wanted to do was complicate it further. But he also knew that she would have to open herself to others if she was to maintain her humanity; the part of her she treasured most.
"Lass, you know I care for you like a daughter. I'm sorry I betrayed your trust, truly. I know I hurt you. But I didn't do it for him. I did it for you."
"For me?" she scoffed slightly at the suggestion.
"Yes. The Gods gave you… urges you need to satisfy. I've come to terms with that. It's why I asked you to hunt here; so I can help you make sure you don't lose yourself in the process. But nothing in this life is free, child," he continued, placing an arm on her shoulder.
"It's time to repay the dead by helping the living."
She sat silently, contemplating his words. She knew he was right, but the stubborn part of her refused to budge; the part of her that her surrogate father knew too well.
"Child, look at me. Please," the old man said, hoping to regain her trust. She slowly glanced upwards, meeting his kind eyes.
"You're a grown young woman, as you just reminded this old fool," he said. "I can't force you to do anything you don't want to do. I know that. So I'm asking you - please. Not for me, or for the boy, but for you. You need this as much as he does."
"Very well," she said in a defeated tone. "There's a cabin four miles east of here, on the outskirts of town. Ekko, meet me there, at dusk. Bring her. I can't promise anything, but I'll hear what you have to say."
"Thank you, Ahri. Truly." Ekko replied, downing his final glass of whiskey. "Fred," he called to the bartender in a light mood.
"Another round, kid?"
"No. I'm done. Thank you… for everything."
"About time," the barkeep replied with a smile, quickly removing the glass from the countertop before the young man changed his mind.
"Good luck, son. With everything," Fred said, before turning to Ahri with a smile. "And lass…thank you. You make this old man proud. Always."
She gave him a gingerly nod, cheeks slightly flushed at his words. She may be centuries old, but recognition from her surrogate father still made her inner child burst with joy.