Grub did not sleep well.
When he finally returned to the inn the night before, his body had been exhausted to the point of collapse, but his mind refused to follow. Even after lying down, even after closing his eyes and forcing himself to remain still, sleep only came in short, inconsistent fragments. Each time he drifted off, something pulled him back—an itch at his wrist, a faint echo of sound, or the quiet, persistent awareness that he was being watched even when no one was there. When morning came, it did not feel like he had woken up from rest. It felt less like waking up and more like deciding he was done lying there, waiting for sleep that wouldn't come.
He sat at the edge of his bed for a moment, unmoving, his gaze resting on the obsidian bracelet wrapped around his wrist. His fingers twitched slightly as if considering something, but the thought never fully formed. Instead, he let out a slow breath, pushed himself to his feet, and stepped out of the room without another glance back.
The lower level of the inn was already active.
The smell that lingered there was the first thing he noticed. It was strong and bitter, something close to what he remembered as coffee, though not quite the same. There was a sharper edge to it, something slightly unfamiliar that crept through the air. Behind a counter, someone was pouring the dark liquid into small cups, steam rising from each one in thin, wavering lines. Grub approached without hesitation, his movements quiet but deliberate. He took one cup, paused briefly, then reached for a second.
One for him. One for her. He did not think too deeply about the decision. It simply felt like the most efficient choice.
Stepping back outside, he chose a place near the inn where he could sit without drawing attention to himself. The village was already awake, though not yet fully active. People moved through the streets with purpose, conversations drifted in and out of earshot, and somewhere in the distance, metal struck metal in a steady, rhythmic pattern. It was the kind of environment that suggested a sense of routine and structure.
Grub lifted the cup and took a slow sip.
The taste was bitter, more so than he expected, but not unpleasant. The heat slid down his throat alongside the liquid, before settling comfortably into his chest. Grub enjoyed the sensation the drink had more than the taste.
As he sat there, watching the village, his thoughts began to drift. They returned, inevitably, to the Ridge.
He had left them behind without hesitation, without regret—at least, that was what he had told himself at the time. They had been too reliant on each other, too focused on surviving as a group. It was because of them being in a group that the giant grub had decided to catch them in the first place. He had convinced himself that staying would only slow him down, that their path would eventually collapse under its own weight.
And yet now, he sat here. A slave to a bracelet and waiting to be guided like a puppy. The realization settled into him slowly, but once it did, it stayed. He exhaled quietly, his grip tightening slightly around the cup.
I am such a hypocrite.
The words carried some frustration, but he did not reject it.
Still, even that did not fully capture the truth. The issue had never been the group itself. It had been his lack of belief in it. He had not trusted them to succeed, not trusted them to create something stable, something lasting. He had chosen to walk away before he could be proven wrong.
If they had succeeded—if they had truly built something real—then he would have to face that. He would have to admit it. And if that day ever came, he would apologize to them all.
Grub took another sip, slower this time, letting the warmth settle as his thoughts shifted again.
My thirst for knowledge. That had always been the stronger pull and a greater reason for my actions.
This world was incomplete to him after all, he only understood mere fragments. Pieces of something larger that he had yet to understand. The bracelet on his wrist, the Lacerts, the structure of the village, the way people spoke, the way they moved, the true history of this world… and the reason he had been brought into it—none of it fully connected in his mind yet, and that lack of understanding irritated him.
He needed answers. And right now, the closest source of those answers was Luthiel. Possibly Morrigan as well.
His fingers brushed lightly against the bracelet again. He would ask them about what they know. He needed all the answers they could give him.
He would get them eventually. Another thought surfaced alongside it.
The reports I have to do.The last one had been simple. Too simple. There had been no pressure, no specific demand, no real expectation beyond observation. That means they are still testing me. Watching what I will do without direction.
Or waiting for the right moment to tighten their control on me.
Grub did not like either possibility. He took another slow sip, his gaze shifting slightly as he scanned the street. That was when he saw her. She stood out immediately.
A small, doll-like figure moving through the village with a quiet, effortless grace that felt out of place and yet completely natural at the same time. Her golden eyes caught the light as she approached, and her blonde hair—neatly braided at the front—framed her face in a way that made her look like a heavenly beauty. The polka-dotted dress she wore moved gently with each step, and there was a lightness to her presence that contrasted sharply with everything around her.
She had a big smile plastered all over her face.
Grub watched her approach without expression, his gaze steady, unblinking. When she reached him, she gave a small, polite bow.
"I have arrived, Mister Grub."
He let out a quiet breath and held out the second cup without ceremony. "For you."
Luthiel paused, her expression shifting into something softer, more surprised. For a brief moment, she simply looked at the cup, as if unsure how to respond. Then a small giggle escaped her, light and genuine, as she accepted it with both hands.
"Thank you," she said gently. She turned slightly away before taking a careful sip, her movements small and deliberate, as she savored the experience rather than simply drinking.
"Have you been waiting for me, Mister Grub?" she asked, her voice soft as she took another sip.
Grub exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed.
"You're my guide. It only made sense to wait for you," he said flatly. "Don't get the wrong idea." He stood, brushing lightly at his clothes before glancing toward her.
"Let's go. Where do you intend on showing me next?"
Luthiel paused, thinking for a moment, her expression shifting into thoughtful stare before brightening slightly.
"I believe you would enjoy the park, Mister Grub," she said. "There are also activities we can do there." Without waiting for a response, she turned and began walking and Grub followed right behind her.
The walk itself was quiet, though not entirely silent. Luthiel moved ahead of him with a light, almost playful energy, her steps occasionally turning into small skips as she hummed softly to herself. The melody was unfamiliar, flowing in a way that did not follow any pattern Grub recognized. It rose and fell naturally, carrying a strange kind of warmth with it.
Grub noticed. Of course he did. The sound was too distinct not to. For a brief moment, he considered asking about it—how she could produce something so precise without effort, but he decided not to. Instead, he kept his thoughts to himself and followed in silence.
When they arrived, the park opened before them revealing its pretty interior. It was not large, but it did not need to be. The space was filled with so much life that it made it feel expansive regardless of its actual size. Greenery spread across the ground in soft layers, trees cast shifting shadows in the morning light, and scattered groups of people moved through the area with ease.
Luthiel led him to a flat stone near the center and sat down gracefully, her movements controlled and fluid. Grub lowered himself beside her, his posture more relaxed but still alert.
Without a word, Luthiel adjusted her position, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. Soon, she became completely still and unmoving. She sat with her eyes closed and breaths slowed down into practiced rhythm
Grub glanced at her briefly before looking away again. Whatever she was doing, it clearly required focus, and he had no interest in interrupting something he did not understand. So he simply ignored it. Instead, he observed the park.
The people, or more so, the creatures.
There were beings here he did not recognize, just like at the restaurant—some small and quick, others larger and slower, all moving with a sense of familiarity and peace. Children—or things close enough to children—ran through the open space, their laughter carrying clearly through the air. The environment was calm and had not a flicker of hostility. And that was the problem.
Grub's eyes narrowed slightly as he took it in.
Why attack this? The question had been lingering in his mind since he first arrived, but here, seeing it fully, it became harder to ignore.
From everything he had observed, the Lacerts did not need subtlety. If they wanted this village gone, they had the strength to make that happen.
From what he had seen, Cordylus alone would be enough to tear through this place. Tre'yon wasn't weak either. And the Colonel… even without seeing him fight, Grub could tell he wasn't someone to take lightly.
So why send him? Why send a spy? Why wait to attack this place? Grub leaned back slightly, his thoughts turning over themselves as he tried to find a reason that made sense, but nothing came to mind.
Grub mulled that over as time passed without interruption. An hour, maybe more. Neither of them spoke the whole time. The quiet stretched naturally between them, filled only by the sounds of the park and the soft rhythm of life continuing around them. Eventually, Grub glanced back at Luthiel.
She had not moved. She was still seated and calm. Honestly—as Grub stared at her—he thought she looked at peace.
Letting out a slow breath he knew one thing for sure, he did not want to betray her or her kindness. That much was true. But survival came first. It always is for him.
His hand shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against the bracelet again, the sensation grounding him in a way he did not like. He needed it gone.
And asking her about it was not an option. If she found out…If anyone found out. Everything could change, they very well may have him in the gallows on the spot. Something about the idea of being executed felt strangely familiar to him, and he wanted to avoid it at all costs.
That reminded him of something he had forgotten while lost in thought. His questions he wanted to ask Luthiel.
He turned slightly toward her, preparing to speak, but suddenly, her eyes shot open.
Grub was surprised to see they were still golden and her hair was no different. He had honestly expected her to shift after that. But her appearance and attitude appeared to be the same. Her strange shifts was another question of his he wanted answered, but he would need to find an optimal time to ask.
Luthiel looked at him and smiled.
"Apologies for the interruption," she said softly. "I simply enjoy doing that from time to time. There is no need for concern."
Her posture shifted slightly, energy returning to her movements as if the stillness had never existed. "Now," she continued, her tone lifting just a bit, "let us do what we came here for."
Grub stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled quietly.
Fine.
For now, the questions could wait.