a/n: About level 4 friendship with Hassian, but you haven't started romancing him yet (you are both crushing though, obviously). This takes place before the events of the Highlands. Also my first fic, so pls let me know how you like it! (And pls be kind <3) I also tried to stay true to his character, but also feed that delulu, yk?
Content: depictions of accident/injury, bit of angst (from Hassian, duh), Hassian x fm reader, Beast is mentioned, Hassian is emotionally constipated, but also such a worrier. Mother peki mode activated.
wc: 2.3k
About 7 months into living in Kilima…
You were exploring the Elderwoods one morning, no goal in mind. Since you had only been here a couple times, you thought you would take today to just explore and familiarize yourself with the new environment. Being in the Elderwoods gave you the creeps but it was also beautiful, in its own dark way. You were in the Deep Woods, deeper than you had gone before, wandering and foraging while keeping out of the way of the Ogopuu. It was gliding serenely from tree to tree when you spotted an odd but beautiful looking flower you had never seen before.
You glide then climb up to the bedrock housing the flower. Excited, you start making your way over to it when the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You freeze. Then you hear a deep and guttural growl, coming from somewhere above you. Instinctively, you whirl around but your foot slips on the slick moss covering the bedrock, and you fall. Your arm reaches out to try and hold on to the rock, but it’s no use. In the blink of an eye, you hit the ground and hear a bloodcurdling scream. The blinding pain emanating from multiple points on your body draw all your attention until you realize that the scream came from you. Sobs escape your mouth as you try to get up from the shallow puddle of murky water you landed in. Another, brighter, flare of pain stills you quickly and your vision begins to fade at the edges.
“Stupid flower” you mutter, before unconsciousness claims you.
_______________________________
Hassian
“Stupid chapaas” he mutters as he hauls the meat and fur from today’s hunt into town for his daily game with Auni. Tau trots happily alongside him, drifting off every now and then to say hello to the humans they pass (and take every single treat offered). Hassian rolls his eyes and keeps walking, hoping no one stops him to “chat”. Eventually he makes his way to the inn, stepping inside. He stops short when he sees the small crowd gathered there. He makes a face and starts to back out of the room but stops cold when he hears your name uttered in a panicked voice. Naio’s.
“I’m starting to really freak out! We agreed to meet up three hours ago and no one can find her!” Naio exclaims.
“That’s not like her” Ashura murmurs, before asking “Has anyone checked her house?”
“I did” Auni says quietly, “But she wasn’t there and The Gardener said she hasn’t been there since early this morning”. A flurry of worried conversation follows.
Hassian was so distracted he didn’t notice someone coming up to stand beside him. He looks over to see his mother. Sifuu looks at him with an uncharacteristically serious expression for a moment before turning to the room.
“Hassian and I will start searching. Does anyone know where y/n was headed this morning when she left?”
Naio hesitated before saying “I think she mentioned something about the Elderwoods, but I don’t know where.”
Shit. Not the Elderwoods, Hassian thought. Out loud he said “Then we will search everywhere. Mother and I will split up to cover more ground.” He turns to Auni, who had been more quiet than usual. “Tau and I will find y/n”, he said quietly, but firmly. Without another word, he leaves his bag of chapaa meat in a corner and turns around heading out of the inn. As he and Sifuu make their way quickly to the Elderwoods, they devise a plan to search different areas and send up a flare if- no. When they find her.
“Tau, find y/n.” Hassian says the second they step into the Elderwoods. Hassian takes a deep breath and tries to stay calm, ignoring his growing panic and the telltale smell of the Elderwoods. Always of damp moss and something else he could never put a name to. Something off putting. Tau suddenly takes off in the direction of the central stables, shaking Hassian out of his thoughts.
“Hassian.” Sifuu’s voice stops him before he could follow Tau and he looks at her, somewhat impatiently. “She’ll be okay, son.” Sifuu says softly, her expression one of concern. He swallows a lump before nodding curtly and turning to leave, splitting off from Sifuu and following Tau quickly. Hassian clenches his jaw as he tries not to think of how familiar this feels. Him and his mother worried over someone who may not come home due to the dangers of the Elderwoods. He shakes his head and focuses on the present, watching Tau track their friend and keeping a sharp and practiced eye on their surroundings, looking for danger, clues, anything. Time goes by as Tau follows your scent all through the caves and into the Deep Woods. He shakes his head at the nonsensical path you seem to have taken today. When I find her, she’s getting a few choice words about how to be safe and sensible in dangerous places, he thinks crossly, letting his anger and frustration drive him for now.
Minutes that feel like hours pass as they search the Deep Woods. Suddenly, Tau barks and takes off in another direction. Hassian follows him, splashing through puddles as he goes. He sees Tau nosing at a dark mass next to some rocks and quickens his pace. As he gets closer, your crumpled form comes further into view. “Dragon” he rasps, “y/n!”
Hassian falls to his knees beside you as his eyes quickly run over your body, cataloguing all your visible injuries, shaking hands hovering over them. He checks your pulse and lets loose a ragged breath before standing and shooting off a flare, hoping his mother sees it. Then he gingerly takes you into his arms and carefully makes his way out of the Deep Woods. He curses silently as he feels how cold you are, your wet clothes doing nothing to protect you against the early evening air. He holds you close and tries not to jostle you too much as he hurries out of the Elderwoods and back towards the village. “Hassian!” Sifuu runs up behind him, panting. “I saw your flare. What happened to her?”
“I think she fell”, Hassian muttered, quickening his steps. Sifuu looked at him carefully before deciding not to say anything more and just follow him silently to the apothecary. As they got closer to the center of town, people were beginning to take notice of the two worried Majiri, Tau, and their charge. But Hassian couldn’t hear their exclaims and shouts over the frantic pounding of his heart.
Finally, they reach the apothecary and rush inside. “Chayne!” Hassian shouts. He carefully deposits your body on a nearby cot as Chayne hurries over. Hassian quickly explains where he found her and what he thinks happened and lets Chayne take over, taking a reluctant step back. But he can’t bring himself to leave or even drag his eyes away from where Chayne is working diligently over you. His hands fist at his sides as a feeling of helplessness washes over him.
Please help her. Please.
____________________________
Ugh. You have the absolute worst headache. It doesn’t help that someone keeps calling your name incessantly. And while you’re trying to sleep? Rude. You frown and try to go back to the dreamless sleep you were having. But someone grabs your hand and squeezes, commanding your attention. You groan. “Y/n?”
Wait- is that? You try to open your eyes but hiss as the afternoon sunlight streaming through a nearby window makes your head throb. You hear footsteps quickly move and the sound of shutters closing. Then you hear Chayne’s voice softly calling your name and you slowly open your eyes. The scene that greets you is…confusing. You’re in the apothecary. Reth is standing by the door holding what must be eight different containers of soup. Tish is comforting a sobbing Jel in a corner. Eshe is standing at the foot of your bed pinching the bridge of her nose as Kenli takes a half-eaten sandwich out of his pocket and asks Chayne if he can give it to you. Elouisa is burning some kind of incense by the windows, muttering something under her breath, and swaying her arms dramatically. And finally, Hassian is sitting at the side of your bed, no longer holding your hand but looking haggard, if not on the verge of losing his patience.
“What-?” You suddenly break out into coughs, not realizing how dry your throat was. But as you cough, sharp pain ripples out from your ribs. You wince as your hand flies to your wrapped midsection. Hassian braces a gentle hand on your shoulder and eases you back onto the pillows. “Easy” he says, his voice quiet and rough. Chayne helps you sit up against the pillows before holding a cup of water up to your dry lips. You take a few small sips before nodding to Chayne that you’re good.
Looking back to the crowd in the room, you ask again “What happened?” You look down at your body and see wrappings around your wrist and torso as well as a sling immobilizing your left arm. Frowning, you reach up with your right and feel gauze on the side of your head too. As Chayne comes to sit on the other side of your bed, you look up at him with a question in your eyes.
He sighs and says “You have three broken ribs, a concussion, a broken collarbone, and a fractured wrist. Not to mention all the bruising you have, well, everywhere else. Do you remember what happened?”
You nod slowly, taking all that in. “I fell. In the Elderwoods.” You choose not to mention what caused you to fall, but instead ask “How did I get here?”
Chayne’s gaze softened “Hassian, Sifuu, and Tau found you yesterday and brought you back. You seemed to have fallen from a great height based off of Hassian’s description. You were very lucky, child.”
Your eyes meet Hassian’s as a wave of gratitude washes over you. Emotion shines in your gaze as your eyes meet. The moment is promptly interrupted as everyone crowds around you, multiple people speaking at once, with Jel even starting to cry again. Your eyes widen slightly as your eyes flit to Chayne for help. He subtly steps in and suggests that you eat at least a little of one of the soups Reth brought. The rest of the day is spent with friends popping in and out of the apothecary with well wishes as Tish feeds you soup, and you relax in your cot. You smile and laugh, eyes sliding over to Hassian every now and then, wishing you had a moment alone to speak. Eventually all the excitement winds down and people start to say their goodbyes with promises to check in on you tomorrow.
As Hassian also stands, you quickly grab his hand with your good one. “Wait-!” You blush and quickly let go of his hand, but ask “Would it be alright if we spoke for a moment before you leave?”
He stutters for a moment before recovering. “Of course,” he murmurs, sitting back down again. Chayne wisely heads towards the back of the apothecary, giving the two of you some privacy.
“I really want to thank you for what you did, Hassian. I know you were just doing what was right, but it really means a lot to me.” You hesitate before gently putting your hand over his. “Thank you for saving me, Hassian.”
The tips of his ears darken, and you fight the sudden urge to touch them. He clears his throat before responding “That’s not necessary.” Then he frowns at you suddenly. “Actually, you should focus on where you’re walking instead of thanking me. Do you have any idea how lucky you got yesterday?”
You wince before saying “Yeah…about that. I didn’t mention everything when Chayne asked what happened earlier because I didn’t want to cause a panic or anything. Well, any more of a panic I guess.” Looking around, you make sure that no one else is listening before you quietly explain the animalistic growl that startled you and caused you to fall. Hassian’s frown deepens as you tell him everything, his hand tightening around yours subconsciously.
Finally, the apothecary is silent as you finish talking and wait for Hassian to say something. He sighs and shakes his head slightly. “Then it seems you were luckier than we thought. The Beast spared your life, y/n.”
You blow out a breath and meet his gaze. “Well, shit. I was really hoping you would say I was crazy for thinking it was the Beast.”
Hassian huffs out a humorless laugh and shakes his head. “Unfortunately not. I need to speak with Mother about this.” He looks over you again and his eyes widen almost comically when he realizes you’re still holding hands. Both of you quickly pull apart and he sputters out “I should…I didn’t- uh…you look-” He stops for a second and seems to collect himself before finally saying “I should go get Tau from Mother and update her about what happened. And you should get some rest.”
You bite back a smile at his uncharacteristically nervous stuttering. Cute. Nodding, you give into the fatigue that has been coming for you for the last hour and carefully lay back down, your eyes already sliding shut. Your mind is swimming in a space between being awake and asleep, so you’re not sure if the feather-soft touch sliding along the curve of your cheek is real or not. But something about it comforts the quiet part of you that was really shaken up from today. And with that, a restful sleep finally embraces you.
A dream. Obviously. That's where Lyla finds herself, in this make believe world where everything comes easy. With no memories of her real life, and a deep ache in her chest, all she wants to do is get home.
But it's not a dream. It's a game, created by God-knows-who, and it's trapped her here. The only way out? Find whoever needs her most, and help them. Preferably without falling in love along the way.
OR
Hassian does have a heart. It is buried beneath a mountain of defence mechanisms and hides a deep chasm of pain, but it is there, and its beat is strong.
(this summary needs work)
(so does this post formatting actually, this is my first Tumblr fic advert)
Additional Tags: trapped in the game, Enemies to Lovers (if you squint), hes just rude and she wont let him, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide (like it's mentioned, briefly), author is an em dash enthusiast
Chapters: 5/15
Preview below the cut, otherwise click here to read on AO3!
Chapter One: Welcome to Palia
Blinded, gagged, and pushed through a pinhole.
At least, that’s how Lyla felt. Light burned her eyes. Smoke filled her lungs. Heat licked at her skin. It didn’t hurt, but it should have. It zapped through her like electricity and left her buzzing, skin crackling at the edges. Before she had even had time to feel fear, an omnipotent voice rang out — through the roar in her ears, through the bones in her chest.
“Time for you to go out into the world. I have high hopes for what you can accomplish.”
Pressure crushed her — cell by cell — and then vanished like water retreating from the shore. The light dimmed. Her breath returned in stuttering gulps. In front of her, floating in empty space like a billboard in her brain:
! Quest: Help the one who needs you most
She didn’t have time to question it before gravity -— a force she had not yet noticed -— finally took hold, and her boots met stone. She blinked a few more times and her vision cleared, although she wasn’t sure she could trust what her eyes were telling her.
She was standing in the centre of a massive vaulted chamber. White stone walls climbed high around her, cracked and weathered with time. Gold trim still clung to the archways, and four massive braziers roared with flickering purple fire. The space might once have been sacred, but now it felt…forgotten. Overlooked.
A gasp rang out.
Lyla froze, head snapping in the direction of the sound.
A woman — or someone shaped like one — stepped cautiously from behind one of the columns. Her arms, bare and violet-hued, were lifted in a gesture of peace. A white short-sleeved coat hung open over her frame, and her oversized round glasses gleamed with firelight beneath the two coiled buns perched atop her head. Pointed ears poked out from beneath. Behind her loomed a spherical machine, motionless but too large to ignore. Lyla tensed, fists at her sides. If she had to run, she didn’t know where she’d go.
The stranger’s eyes widened.
“Oh. My. Dragon!” The woman’s high-pitched voice echoed off of the walls of the grand chamber, and a delicate purple hand raised to cover her mouth in shock. “Did-did you…just…materialise from nowhere?”
Lyla hesitated. The room was cold, but her skin still tingled with the residual static. She realised with a start that she could understand this strange woman perfectly, despite the clear differences between them. Okay, so we’re both surprised, Lyla thought, resisting the urge to take an alarmed step back.
Several seconds passed. Neither moved.
Then, Lyla forced herself to speak.
“...I honestly have no idea.” Her voice cracked around the edges; her tongue felt like sandpaper. A quick glance down at her own arms — still there, still Human — grounded her with a faint sense of familiarity.
The woman didn’t seem overly concerned. “Right, you probably don’t know any more about your situation than I do. It’s just, none of the other Humans knew either. Which leaves me right back at square one.”
Lyla blinked. Her brain snagged on two specific words. “Other Humans?”
“Yup,” the woman said breezily. “You’re not the first Human I’ve seen in Palia. Just the first I’ve seen…y’know, appearing in a giant cocoon of light.” Reality finally seemed to catch up with her at her words, her eyes widening with recognition. One hand came up to rub at her forehead. “We should slow down.” Her posture softened, and she quickly fished around inside of her oversized coat pockets. Lyla instinctively took a half-step back as she produced a large piece of folded paper. The woman paused for a moment, and then extended the paper with a gentler motion. “Why don’t you take this map and head into town where you can talk to Ashura, the Innkeeper? He’s been helping others like you get settled in. I would help you myself, but I’m working on something here, and I’m this close to figuring it out.” A small smile — rushed, apologetic, and still tinged with excitement — offered Lyla no comfort; just more questions.
Lyla stared. Her eyes flicked from the paper to the stranger, then to the machine behind her. The robot still hadn’t moved, but something about it felt attentive. Like it was watching.
The woman, seeming to either not notice the awkward silence or be deadset on filling it, continued on. “I was so caught off guard — I realise I forgot to introduce myself or explain why I'm here,” she almost laughed, though there was a caution in her tone which gave away her apprehension. “The name's Jina. I'm an apprentice scholar researching these old ruins. And this here,” she waved the map toward the machine, “is my research assistant, Hekla.”
At the sound of her name, Hekla seemed to whir to life - a series of robotic beeps foreshadowed her computerised voice before she gave Lyla a friendly greeting.
! Relationship Status: A Little Shy
The new notification blinked into existence just across Lyla’s eyes — semi-transparent and glowing like the first. No one else reacted. A moment later, it vanished.
She looked around, searching the chamber for anything else strange — but all she saw were creeping vines, worn stone, and a great phoenix statue, its wings curled protectively around the platform on which she stood. The purple flames licked at the air, but there was no smoke.
The woman — Jina — glanced back to Lyla with a friendly smile, braving the last few steps to offer her the map once more. “Be sure to ask her if you have any questions,” she suggested. Lyla took the paper dumbly, almost absently. “I've gotta get back to the grind.” With that, the apprentice scholar’s attention turned once again to the glowing runes etched into the stone all around them.
Hekla said nothing more. Lyla, uncertain and unwilling to push her luck, did not approach.
She looked instead toward the hallway ahead — a massive keyhole-shaped door that opened onto a long corridor, bathed in quiet light. Somewhere at the far end, it opened to the world.
The torches lining the white-and-gold hall burned a warm orange, which somehow felt much safer than the bizarre violet flames of the chamber. The hall opened into a darker chamber below, where time had clearly done its damage — cracked stone, roots twisting through the floor, and collapsed stairs blocked her way forward. But conveniently, a thick wall of vines stretched along the far side of the chamber. They looked climbable. Lyla hesitated only a moment before walking to them.
It’s just a dream, she reminded herself. Nothing can happen to me here that I won’t wake up from.
Still, her breath hitched as her fingers wrapped around the stalks. They were coarse and veined with texture, creaking faintly under her weight. She pretended not to notice. Sometimes dreams are just a little more real.
At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. With surprising ease, Lyla hauled herself over the edge and stood. Her footfalls were audible across the stone floor, her movements purposeful. When the broken stone of the passage finally gave way to a dirt path, the softer texture was noticeable beneath her shoes. She certainly didn’t feel like she was in a dream.
The sunlight hit her, and she squinted against it painfully as her eyes adjusted to the light.
A waterfall surged down the cliff edge just ahead of her, feeding into a clear lake far below. Beyond that: fields, trees, and — nestled among them — a small village that looked like it had sprung straight out of a fantasy painting. Mountains loomed in the distance, cradling the land between them and the sea.
Lyla stared in awe; in a word, it was breathtaking.
She’d experienced vivid dreams before, but never had her imagination conjured the feel of the sun on her skin, or a landscape that stretched so impossibly wide. The prickling heat of her arrival was almost entirely forgotten at the thought of frollicking in the flowers like a lamb.
Jina’s instructions echoed through her mind: head into town where you can talk to Ashura, the Innkeeper.
She didn’t need a map. She knew that the inn she needed to find would be nestled somewhere in the village, and she could tell even at her great distance that it was a tiny settlement. With the full confidence of a woman who knew she’d be waking up at any minute, Lyla made her way down the path cut into the cliffside.
The carved out tunnel was held up by dubious looking wooden support structures; they’d clearly been there for years, but were still solid enough. The sound of the rushing water over the cliff never lessened as she made her way down the wood-and-dirt path, until finally she came to the final opening; to her left, another, smaller waterfall fed into the same river as the one to her right. Before her, a weathered wooden bridge stretched the gap between the cliff and the stone pathway to the village. Faint birdsong and the rustle of wind could just be heard over the roar of water.
Lyla crossed the worn bridge, its beams creaking beneath her, and turned left toward where she knew the village lay. On the way, she passed a pair of benches and a smouldering fire pit — a cosy touch, like the dream was trying to make itself hospitable. She smiled faintly as a breeze rustled through the trees and the smell of damp soil filled her nose.
Despite the distance, it didn’t take long before she reached the outskirts of the village. She passed beneath a tall wooden arch adorned with a U-shaped carving, and a string of wind chimes that clinked softly in the breeze.
Ahead, signposts marked the roads, although the words meant nothing to her — strange glyphs carved into smooth wood. Lyla frowned at this, but quickly dismissed the mystery; dreams are just like that sometimes.
Colourful lanterns and paper bunting lined the way forward, decorating the gaps between the lightposts that led her into the village centre. The path opened into a wide, triangle-shaped plaza with a broken stone fountain at its centre. It was cracked and overgrown, clearly older than the rest of the town — like it had been left behind by time.
She passed what looked like a library, its roof a bright lapis blue, a book carved over the entryway. To her right, a green building bore the symbol of a chair. A furniture store, maybe. Beyond that, a grocer’s, and past it, a shop with purple banners and a coathanger carved above the door.
And then she saw it.
A large, two-storey building sat proudly near the back of the plaza, with wide stone steps and a deck out the front. Above the door were carved two steins mid-toast, the beer within sloshing out over the top.
That’s gotta be the place.
She climbed the steps slowly, unsure where the sudden nerves had come from. It’s just a dream, she told herself, the words playing over like a mantra in her head. Just a dream.
Then, the sound of laughter — warm and real — as the door swung open, and a man stepped out.
A Human man.
Lyla froze. A sense of relief crashed over her like a wave at the recognition of someone — anyone — familiar.
“Excuse me,” she tried, her voice just a little too high. The man turned, eyes bright and smiling.
“Yes?” he asks, friendly, but distracted as his gaze flicks to the village behind her.
“I’m-I’m looking for Ashura…?” she gestures helplessly toward the inn.
For a moment, the man just blinked at her. Then, understanding dawned across his features, and he laughed. “Ah. New recruit, are ya?”
Lyla wasn’t sure exactly how to respond, so she simply nodded.
“Oh, well, welcome to Palia!” He grinned warmly. “Sorry, I can’t stick around just now — Auni’s challenged me to a bug-catching contest. But, uh, Ashura’s over there-” he gestured behind him with his thumb, “-big, burly cuddle bear. Can’t miss ’im. Good luck!”
And just like that the man was gone, disappearing down the road in a blur of good cheer.
Lyla stood on the wooden deck, heart hammering, unsure whether to laugh or run.
The sounds of the tavern drifted toward her; cutlery clinking, chairs scraping, quiet chatter. Nerves bubbled in her blood, her mouth going dry as she stepped across the threshold.
The warmth hit her first. Not just from the crackling fireplace, but something else. Something homelike.
A wide room opened around her, with its vaulted ceilings and second-floor balcony above. A pair of patrons laughed at a lunchtable, and a tall man poured drinks behind the bar. There was a scent in the air — oddly fresh, vaguely lettuce-like — and yet…not unpleasant.
She tried not to dwell on the fact she’d never smelled anything in a dream before.
A booming, belly-deep laugh echoed from across the tavern, drawing her eye to its source — an older man with a weathered face and a beard that matched the dusting of grey in his hair. He was easily one of the largest men she'd seen since her dream began: broad-shouldered and thick-set, the soft stretch of his belly doing little to disguise the strength beneath. His tattoos — a darker shade of purple than his skin — curled out from beneath the sleeves of his rolled-up shirt as he clapped a customer on the back and sent them off with a grin.
Lyla hovered near the door, watching. The man, now alone, turned and began wiping the table clean. The grin faded. What replaced it wasn’t unfriendly, exactly — but it was hard. Watchful.
Her feet moved before she decided they would. Crossing the room, the tavern felt much quieter than it had. Quiet enough for her to hear the scuffing of her shoes across the wood, as though announcing to those gathered that she didn’t belong. She stopped a few steps short. Her breath caught, her palms began to sweat.
The man looked up.
His face was carved from granite — but there was a flicker in his eyes, a gentle shine. His gaze swept over her face, searching. And then, recognition — soft, almost amused. That warm smile bloomed again like it had been waiting for its chance.
“Welcome to Kilima!” he greeted, his voice gentler than before but still full of life. He stood tall and flipped the cloth over his shoulder, opening a large palm toward her in greeting. He gestured to one of the vacated chairs and offered, “I’m sure this is quite a lot to take in.”
Lyla glanced at the empty seat, but made no move to sit. The idea of settling in -— of relaxing -— felt absurd. Her body was still braced for something to go wrong. She shifted on her feet and shook her head, her throat tightening.
The innkeeper didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his gaze softened further. He kept his large, calloused hands visible as he calmly continued, “I’m Ashura, the innkeeper at Ormuu’s Horn.” He gestured at the aged wallpaper, the high beams, the worn rug before the fireplace. “Unfortunately, there isn’t any room at the inn right now,” he added with an apologetic smile, “but we do have some old plots where you could build yourself a tent. Whaddaya say? You wanna take in the great outdoors?”
Something in her wanted to say yes. Maybe it was his tone — reassuring, unforced — or maybe it was that old dream-logic again, the instinct to just move forward, go along.
But a tent? She hesitated. For a moment she tried to picture her bed -— the one she knew was waiting for her once this dream ended.
Blank.
Her breath caught again. She couldn’t remember what it looked like. Not just the bed — the walls, the door, the street outside. Like it had been folded up and placed somewhere behind her eyes, unreachable. “I’m…not the camping type,” she replied, the words sticking in her throat as she felt her shoulders tense again.
Ashura’s face split into a broader grin, and a chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest — not loud this time, but easy. “I hear you,” he said, unbothered. “I slept in a tent for years while I was a soldier, never quite got used to it.”
A soldier, Lyla thought. That explained the thick arms, the watchful eyes, and the strange mix of tension and ease he carried; like a man who could cause significant harm with ease, but would rather offer a blanket.
He studied her.
Lyla’s back straightened a little too sharply, and her fingers curled into her palms at her side. She wondered what it was that he saw in her.
“...Well,” he began again after she failed to fill the silence, “maybe we can talk to the mayor about getting you in something more permanent.”
Permanent. The word echoed in her brain like a dropped coin.
She blinked. The tavern hadn’t changed -— still filled with a warm light and the scent of something stewing in the kitchen. But something in the back of her mind tensed again. Not fear, not exactly — something quieter. Like a thread pulling taut.
She heard the chitter of an animal. Out the window she could see one of the orange furry creatures which had dotted the field on her walk down, and the sight tugged at her.
She wanted to chase it.
Not because it made sense, but specifically because it didn’t - dreams were for doing, not for waiting. Her subconscious imagination had conjured this world in vivid detail, and she wanted to savour it.
Her gaze dropped again to her hands. They were hers — she knew they were — but there was something oddly different about them. A foreign elegance, mismatched to the small callouses on her fingers that she was sure didn’t belong.
A dream.
Lyla was certain. But there was something in it, in the sheer amount of detail, that made it feel unlike any other dream she’d ever had. This dream was too vivid; it had weight, texture. She could feel the warmth of the wood beneath her feet through the soles of her boots, she had felt the gentle breeze rustle her hair.
Lyla almost laughed. Not a real one — a small huff through her nostrils, startled and unbelieving.
She looked around again; there was no dream-like swirl to her surroundings, no indication that it was beginning to fade. A sunbeam stretched across the room, showcasing the constant swirl of dust motes in the air.
Permanent, in a dream?
A smirk tugged at her mouth as absurdity settled in like an old friend. Around her, the tavern creaked softly, accompanied by the distant clatter of cutlery and hushed voices. She carried that amusement with her as Ashura explained everything — the materials she’d need, the axe he’d lend her, the local miner she’d meet at her new “plot.”
She didn’t question it. Of course she didn’t. That’s how dreams worked.
She spent the rest of the afternoon chopping trees, splitting stone like it was nothing, and chasing the furry creatures through the forest surrounding what her imagination called home. Hodari — the miner — had ensured she knew enough to make the small building on her plot functional as a home. She went to sleep that evening in her makeshift bed, crafted by her own somehow practised hands, knowing that real life waited for her on the other side.
The amusement dried up when morning came, and she found herself still tucked under the itchy green blanket in her draughty, run-down shack.
