Alina stood frozen for a long moment, her heart still pounding loudly in her chest. The sounds of the market slowly filtered back in—the distant murmur of voices, the rustle of fabric—as if the world were nudging her to move on, to pretend nothing had happened.
But her fingers trembled slightly as she reached again for the bundle of lavender, the scent no longer as calming as it had been moments before. She clutched it tightly, grounding herself in something familiar.
"Such fresh lavender today, don't you think?"
The sudden voice made her jump, and she turned sharply, nearly knocking her basket off the stall. Standing beside her was the village herbalist, her usual warm smile softening the edges of Alina's startled expression. Her own basket was full to the brim with herbs, a few sprigs of rosemary poking out over the edge.
"Oh! I—" Alina stammered, her words faltering as her gaze flickered over the herbalist's shoulder. There, beyond her, were the same glowing red eyes. Unmistakable. Watching.
The herbalist noticed her stiffened posture and the change in her expression. Her sharp eyes softened with concern. "Are you feeling unwell, dear?" she asked gently.
Alina forced a smile, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound casual. "I… I'm fine. Just a little tired, I suppose." She quickly paid for the lavender, her fingers cold against the coins. Even though the eyes had disappeared, a tightness lingered in her chest, refusing to ease.
With a quick, jerky motion, Alina gathered her things, nodding politely at the herbalist. She murmured a hurried farewell, her steps quickening as she made her way through the square. The weight of the questions she'd overheard earlier—about monsters, about certainty—pressed in on her.
Usually, she loved lingering in the square, letting the warmth of the village carry her from stall to stall. But today, the air felt different—heavier, sharper, as if something unseen had turned the edges of the world just slightly askew. The once-familiar village now felt distant, almost foreign, like a dream slipping quietly out of reach.
She needed to get home. She'd be safe there.
Alina wasted no time on the journey back. Her feet moved quickly, almost on their own, carrying her through familiar paths with unfamiliar urgency. She reached the cottage far sooner than usual, barely noticing the flowers lining the fence or the soft creak of the gate.
Only once she stepped inside—enclosed by the familiar warmth of the cottage walls—did she let herself exhale. The breath trembled as it left her, like it had been held far too long.
But it was too quiet. Way too quiet.
The usual creaks and soft hums of the cottage—the ticking clock, the distant bubbling of the stove—were missing.
Alina stood still, her basket clutched tightly in her hands.
"Nana?" she called, her voice low but sharp in the stillness.
No answer. Just the silence, thick and pressing, like the air itself was holding its breath.
"Is she still sleeping?" Alina murmured to herself, stepping lightly across the wooden floor. She moved to Nana's room and gently pushed open the door.
The bed was neatly made, every corner tucked with care. Not a single wrinkle on the blanket, not a hint of warmth left behind. It didn't look slept in at all.
A strange chill crept up Alina's spine.
"Nana?" she called again, more urgently this time.
When silence was her only answer, a jolt of panic surged through her. She dropped everything—her basket hitting the floor with a dull thud—and rushed through the cottage, calling out as she searched.
"Nana?"
Each room offered the same reply: stillness. Empty corners, undisturbed shelves, a chair left just slightly turned from the table.
Her heart pounded louder with every unanswered call.
The image of those red eyes flashed in her mind—burning, unblinking. Her throat tightened as fear rose.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head as if to dispel the thought.
But fear had already taken hold.
She turned and ran to the front door, her breath quickly turning to panicked gasps. Her fingers fumbled with the latch, driven by a single, desperate hope—maybe Nana had just stepped outside. Maybe she was in the garden. Maybe—
"Oh, there you are! Here, let me introduce you to—"
"Nana!" Alina's voice broke as she rushed forward, her feet barely steady beneath her. She threw her arms around Nana, burying her face against the familiar softness of her shawl.
Her legs trembled, and for a moment, she couldn't speak—only hold on, as if afraid that if she let go, Nana might vanish again.
"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Nana said lightly, though Alina caught the brief strain beneath the humor. "Did something happen in the square?"
"No," Alina shook her head, forcing a smile. "Nothing happened," she repeated, her voice a little more reassuring this time, even though the unease still lingered in her chest.
She must've been too paranoid, her mind clouded by the stories she'd overheard and the sight of all those knights. It was easy to let the fear of the monsters creep back in, especially after the unsettling conversations at the square. But Nana was here, safe and sound, and that was all that mattered.
"What are you doing out here?" Alina asked. "Did you skip your naps today?"
Nana glanced up with a playful smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Without a word, she took Alina's hand and gently pulled her toward the long-abandoned house just beyond their cottage.
"Oh, I did, but I was woken up by the sight of this fine young man," Nana said, her voice full of teasing warmth. Alina blinked in surprise, and sure enough, there was a man standing just outside the usually empty house. "This is my granddaughter I told you about," Nana said to the man, pushing Alina forward.
Alina's gaze flickered up at the man, her eyes widening in shock. "You—pastry!" She blurted out, too startled to form a proper sentence.
It was the same man who had stolen her favorite pastry—the rude traveler she'd thought was just a fleeting stranger. The recognition crashed over her like a sudden wave, and she stood frozen, mouth slightly agape, unable to look away from him.
"What? You know each other?" Nana asked, her voice full of surprise.
"No," Alina quickly denied, shaking her head.
She stared at the man, her eyes narrowing, searching his face for any sign of recognition. He gave nothing away—only a slight lift at the corner of his mouth, as if he were already enjoying her reaction.
"This is Killian," Nana introduced the man, her voice friendly and welcoming. Killian gave a slight bow of his head, his posture relaxed and his gaze cool. "Our new handsome neighbor! How wonderful!"
"What?" Alina blurted out, unable to hide the disbelief creeping into her voice. She stared at Nana, then at Killian, feeling a mix of surprise and irritation. Neighbors? With the pastry thief?
"What do you mean, 'what'?" Nana teased, slapping her lightly on the back. "Let's have dinner together as your welcoming party! I just cooked a delicious dish today—your favorite, Alina—and I'm sure you'll love it too once you've tasted it!" Nana added with a soft, knowing chuckle, her eyes twinkling as she guided Killian toward the cottage.
"Wait!" Alina reached out, her hand catching Nana's arm before she could usher the pastry thief—Killian—into their cottage. Her brows furrowed as she added, "Don't you think this is a little sudden? He just moved in, so I'm sure he has a lot of things to settle… right?"
Alina shot him a sharp glare. He didn't react—didn't even blink. She forced out a small, tight-lipped smile—just enough to be polite, but laced with unmistakable irritation.
The message behind it was clear, and she hoped he'd catch it: I don't like you.
"She's right," the man said, his voice smooth and deeper than Alina had expected, the calm confidence in it only irritating her further. He gestured over his shoulder. "The house is a mess."
It seemed he was smart enough to agree with her—for now. Had he followed Nana into the cottage, Alina was fairly certain she would've found a way to make sure he choked on his food. Politely, of course.
Nana's playful smile faltered just slightly when she heard Killian decline, realizing she might have been a bit too eager. "Oh, my! I didn't mean to push you," she said, her tone light and teasing, but with a soft, apologetic edge. "I got ahead of myself, didn't I?"
Killian inclined his head slightly. "Maybe another time?" His tone was polite, leaving no room for argument.
Nana waved off the moment with an easy smile, already moving on. "We'll get you eventually. You can't hide forever!" She teased with a light nudge, the warmth in her voice lingering.
Killian offered a smile, then turned back towards his house, but not before stealing a brief glance at Alina. She caught the look, their eyes meeting for a split second, before he quickly made his way back to his house.
Nana, unaware of the unspoken moment between them, patted Alina's shoulder with a soft laugh. "Don't worry, he'll warm up eventually!"
Oh, but Alina certainly won't.