The next morning, Zepar left the tower to find the town crier. He'd made a decision. He wouldn't go overboard and permanently harm the bastard, but he would make certain he would regret airing his secrets to the entire town of Gilramore. Zepar had left Nyx with Edarin, who'd become quite fond of the tiny furball already.
"Confront him if you must," Edarin had said. "But don't lose yourself to rage."
Zepar had agreed. Whatever he did wouldn't have any lasting damage. That didn't mean he wouldn't hurt him…just not too much. He asked around, finding several people who had seen the crier earlier. However, from what he'd heard, the crier had rushed home upon hearing that Zepar had returned to Gilramore.
"You can't hide from me," Zepar growled as he made his way through town. He continued to ask around, trying to determine which way the crier had run. His mind kept drifting back to that moment in the tavern. He'd been hurt. He'd been angry. "I should have listened." He slapped himself across the face, a small punishment for his own foolishness. "Maybe she had a good reason…she could have needed money, or he could have threatened her." He sighed, resolving to speak to her properly when he was done with the crier.
It took an hour, but Zepar finally found the crier's home. It was a small house not far from the Lord's estate. Inside, he could hear slamming and the rustling of papers and clothes along with rapid footsteps. Zepar immediately understood those sounds. The crier was packing, intending to flee.
Wasting no time, Zepar summoned Magician's Edge and aimed it at the door. With a thought, the door was reduced to splinters. He watched as the crier struggled with a window in the back of the house, clearly attempting to escape through it. Zepar raised his staff, and suddenly the man was cocooned in wood stripped from his own home, leaving just his head sticking out. Zepar then levitated him over to be face to face with him.
"I take it you know why I'm here," Zepar said coldly.
"I-I have no idea," the crier lied. "Why are you attacking me?"
"You know exactly why," Zepar growled, slapping the man. "Lie to me again, and I will show you the full extent of my…imagination." He reached out and grabbed the crier's throat, squeezing tightly. "Was it worth it?" he snarled. "Airing my secrets, damaging the peaceful life I'd built for myself just for a sensational story?"
"I-I'm sorry," he sputtered. "I didn't think—" he tried, but was cut off.
"Didn't think it would matter? Didn't think the people would care who my father was?" Zepar demanded before letting go of the man's throat. "Or just didn't think I'd be back to feel the repercussions of your actions?"
"I didn't think they'd all react so strongly," the crier pleaded. "Lots of men have fathers people hate."
"How did you convince Aya to tell you in the first place," Zepar demanded. "Blackmail? Threats?" He gritted his teeth. "TELL ME!"
"I-I," the crier looked mortified at the idea of speaking the answer aloud. Especially in front of the man who had burned a village to the ground for treating him like a plague. "I-I used a truth t-t-tonic." His voice broke into a high-pitched squeak towards the end of his sentence.
Zepar's pupils shrank as he listened to the man's words. Aya had been drugged. She'd never even had a choice but to reveal his secrets. And he'd cut her off, treated her coldly, and left without letting her explain. He glared hatefully at the crier before drawing Magician's Edge out of its sheath. He seethed, his breathing rapid as he clenched his teeth.
Raising his sword high, Zepar intended to cleave the worm in two. He swung hard in a downward arc. Just as his blade was about to make contact with the snivelling crier, he heard Edarin's and Orin's words in his head. He stopped, the edge of the blade just barely touching the crier's forehead, a thin trickle of blood flowing from the spot.
"Go," Zepar said shakily. "Pack, and leave Gilramore." He pulled back, sheathing his blade back into the staff. "I will be back tonight. If you are still here, you can be crushed under your house." He waved his hand, and the crier was freed. Zepar left, dismissing Magician's Edge as he walked. His measured walk turned brisker, then became a jog. After barely ten seconds, he was sprinting, hurrying towards Aya's home on the outskirts of Gilramore.
He didn't know if Aya could ever forgive him. But he had to try. She'd been the first person to see the real him and not recoil. She'd even wanted to be with him. And he'd stupidly assumed she betrayed him without verifying it. He burst through her front door, not bothering to knock.
"Aya!" he called out desperately. No voice answered his call. No Aya sitting at her table or aiming her crossbow at him from down the hall. In fact, he noticed the house was entirely empty. He ran through the house, desperately searching. "Aya!" he pleaded as he searched the few rooms in the house.
After confirming that she wasn't there, and all of her belongings were gone, he dropped to his knees and wept. "I'm sorry," he sobbed. It was then that he glanced up and noticed a sheet of parchment tucked away in a closed window. He stood and walked over, pulling it free and inspecting it. It was a letter for him. He wiped away his tears and began to read:
My Dearest Zepar,
I hope this letter finds you well. Though your words hurt, I know they came from a place of pain and that damned stubbornness of yours. I know you must be thinking right now that you drove me away. And to that I say, don't be so vain. Though your words definitely made the decision easier, I was planning to leave Gilramore after what the crier did.
Don't bother trying to look for me, it's pointless to try tracking a seer. I'll let you stumble across me one of these days. When we're both ready. Know that despite everything, I still do, and always will love you.
— Aya
Zepar stood up, wiping his eyes again before looking off towards the horizon. He used his telepathy magic again, hoping she hadn't gone far yet. He couldn't leave it like this. He still had one thing he needed her to hear. He felt his mind connect to hers, and he smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest.
'I understand,' he whispered into her mind. He wanted it clear before she cut off the connection that he wasn't coming to find her or insist she stay. 'Before you go…I love you. And I'm sorry.' He was about to cut the connection and leave her be when he suddenly heard her.
'I know,' she whispered back before the connection ended.