"Shh shh. Is this the room? Are you sure?"
"Hehe, we're gonna be rich! We should thank this idiot after we tie him up."
"Be quiet you two! Now, you remember the plan? No witnesses."
Morgan snapped awake, it was still pitch black outside but the sound of barely hushed whispers and the taste of adrenaline fuelled nerves had dug into his dreams and ripped him from his slumber.
Bleary minded, he struggled to process what he was hearing as his brain caught up. Then, a jolt of alarm tore through him, his eyes sprang open, and his heart beat fast in his chest.
They were under attack, and he needed to warn Wren.
Gently moving around on the bed, the straw mattress rustled slightly beneath him, but otherwise made no noise. His feet pressed slowly against the cold wooden boards as he placed more weight down, and stood up.
Each breath was short and shallow as he tried to make as little noise as possible. He could hear the angry whispers of his would be assailants from beyond the door as something rattled in the lock.
Honestly, he was surprised it had taken them this long to get the lock open. He'd seen the key, and it only held two teeth, which meant the lock wasn't that much more complicated. Speeding up, he crossed the metre gap between the two beds, and leant by Wren's ear as he gently prodded his ribs.
"Wren, wake the fuck up now! There's people breaking in!"
A pair of red eyes shone through the darkness as the other man snapped awake. At first he looked confused, then he jolted upright as the words registered in his brain.
While Wren reached for his sword, Morgan dashed towards the door and stood behind it, his legs tensed and one knee raised. With a click, the door moved slightly and the taste of accomplishment washed through the cracks.
Slowly, the wooden slab was pushed open, the previous noise of the assailants all but drowned out by the creak of the rusty metal hinge. Once it was opened enough a head slowly peeked into the room, and Morgan struck.
His foot cracked out like a whip, slamming into the partly open door with all the force he could muster.
In an instant the door slammed shut, a sharp crack ringing through the room as the person slumped to the floor with a gargled scream, the scent of blood in the air. Heart beating out of his chest, he lunged forward, hand closing around the edge of the door as he swung it open.
Two men dressed in torn, old clothing stood outside, half stooped from earlier. Their eyes visibly widened as they saw him, the partial light of the moon reflecting off the brown globes.
A glint of metal caught Morgan's eye as he glanced at the small, chipped blade clutched in the hand of the unconscious, probably dead, first guy. Crouching low, his hand flew out and pried the other man's grip open, before he snatched the knife.
"Noooo! You killed Yurn! I'll fucking murder you!"
By this point, one of the only two men left snapped back to reality and dove at him, hands outstretched and eyes brimming with rage.
Morgan stumbled slightly as the taste of the man's rage washed over him, it was so strong and violent, unlike any other emotion he'd tasted. It dug into his mind, trying to make him just as angry as it was. Groaning slightly, he tripped over his own feet and fell onto the floor.
The sight of a rage fuelled man, flying at him with a knife brandished was far scarier than it should have been, and he froze up.
*Shhkkk*
A wet, muffled squelch echoed through the room as the man's body went slack, his knife clattering to one side and his head the other. Standing where the man was a second ago was Wren, his sword level with the ground and stained with a red hue.
The man's body, carried by its momentum tumbled and landed on Morgan, blood spilling from his neck like a broken faucet.
"Get up Morgan! We need to go!"
He couldn't move. The man's corpse was heavy, almost too heavy. It was like trying to move a bag of grain, the weight was just all off.
Morgan's hands slipped around as he tried to push the corpse away, but they were too slick with blood to find any purchase. He'd been covered in blood before, nearly drowned in it even, but this was different.
It wasn't just some red liquid anymore, it was the last bit of life leaving a man's body.
His heart beat so fast in his chest it almost hurt. The taste of blood on the air was suffocating. Prying himself from beneath the corpse, he rose to his feet on shaky legs, his mind not entirely focused.
To his side, Wren stood over the body of the third man – whether he was alive was up for debate – and started to strip him.
"Morgan snap out of it! The guards will be here soon, that guy was too loud!"
His body moved on autopilot, gathering his meagre belongings and picking up Iskandar, who had woken up around the same time as Wren. His mind, however, was stuck reliving the feel of the man's scalding hot blood splattering against him.
It was so much worse than the goblin's blood.
A shiver ran through his entire body as he sucked in a deep breath, his eyes hardening. No, he couldn't feel bad, they were trying to break into his room, with the express purpose of killing his friend and selling him to slavery.
"We need to get out of thisssss town, before they can clossssse usssss in."
He didn't want to think about the corpses dotted about the room, as he stepped outside. Sprinting for the stairs he descended them three at a time, only to screech to a halt on the last.
The bartender flexed her muscles, causing her apron to crack against the air as she stood blocking the way out. Her shadow seemed to dwarf the room around it, and the air seemed to hold its breath.
If not for the fact he couldn't detect any hostility from her, Morgan likely would have been shitting bricks.
"Ya keys, hand em over. Cleanin' costs extra, five small copper."
Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned to see Wren with the money in hand, ready to pass it over. Dropping the coins into the woman's outstretched palm, she stepped to the side allowing them to pass.
"Blasted fools, shoulda checked da posters."
As he sprinted through the door, he could swear he heard her muttering something, but tuned it out.
The night air was cold against his skin, and the moon – low on the horizon – barely provided any light on the cramped town streets. In the distance, he could see two patches of torch light bobbing up and down as they got closer.
Opting for another path, he ducked into a nearby alley, dragging Wren behind him.
They needed to escape the town before the guards could organise, at the moment they were likely still going to investigate, but that would change any minute.
Luckily for them, as a town of less than a thousand people it was lacking in personnel. Including guards, which while normally bad for its residents, was perfect for the party of three as they weaved through the back streets.
With each step he took, Morgan's heart hammered in his ears, a stinging sensation travelling from his lungs to his legs. Gradually, he slowed down, his desperate sprint slowing to a laboured jog, and eventually to a speed not much faster than his walking pace.
While no longer suffering the effects of Mana Sickness, he was still in bad shape. So the only thing driving him forward by the time he reached the west gate, was the adrenaline running through his veins.
Not seeing any nearby guards, he briskly walked up to the gate. It was a colossal thing, easily four metres in height and mounted on hinges as thick as a thigh. In a normal scenario, a gate like this would be barred from the inside at night.
This wasn't a normal situation.
As he drew near to the town's exit, his eyes were able to pick up more details in the darkness. Not only was the thick wooden beam responsible for barring the gate balanced precariously to the side, but the gate was even cracked open slightly.
Morgan wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth and without hesitation he ushered Wren through, following right behind him as he pulled the gate shut.
From the other side he heard a loud, solid thud as the beam fell back into place.
It was perfect, no one would ever suspect they'd escaped out this way when the door was locked from inside.
His legs turned to jelly as a sigh of relief left his mouth, they'd made it out. At once, he felt the adrenaline leave his body, as his hands trembled slightly and his breathing grew more laboured. Resting his head against the closed gate, he gathered his breath.
Still, he couldn't rest forever. He had no doubt the Baron would be notified of this, and would likely have this entire town swarming with men by the morning.
"I've been waiting for you two. Mighty reckless of you to show your faces so blatantly, don't you know there's a bounty on your heads? Four gold for the Starman, and two for his companion. Funny thing that is, gold will rot any man's soul."
Morgan's blood ran cold as an unfamiliar voice sounded from behind him.
He spun faster than he'd ever spun before, his joints making light cracks as he snapped to attention. Tongue slashing out nervously as he instinctively activated Overclock.
A familiar man stood before him, his well-worn metal chest plate glinting in the moonlight, and his chipped sword resting loosely by his side. He said nothing for a few seconds, merely eyeing the two blood covered individuals, as his greying hair swayed gently on the night breeze.
When he eventually spoke again, his voice was low and calm, with none of the aggression Morgan expected to hear, or taste.
"My loyalty lies not with the Tyrant king, or the usurper Baron. I fought for this kingdom many a time, and to see it fall to such a sorry state, where murder and thievery are prevalent, and the people starve. It hurts my very soul."
From beyond the gates he could hear the sound of yelling growing ever louder, as the man babbled on. Yet Morgan remained motionless, some deep seated instinct telling him that if he tried to run, he'd be cut down in seconds. So he stood still as a statue.
Sighing, the older guard turned his gaze to Wren who was inching to the side.
"I met the king once, the true king that is, not the tyrant who sits on his throne now. And you know the most striking thing about him? It was his hair. Hair so red it made fire blush."
Morgan turned slowly, his gaze following the guard's to his companion, who stood barely an arm's length from him, with a face devoid of any emotion. A chill ran down his spine, the entire aura around Wren had changed entirely, and gone was the ditzy man he'd gotten to know.
Even the emotions that used to roll off him in spades, were now different, more controlled.
"You've said enough. Come, let us go now Morgan."
With a voice so cold it would make ice seem warm in comparison, he issued what sounded like an order and started to walk away.
But he didn't move. He stood frozen, watching as his friend, or at least the person he thought was his friend, continued to walk away. He'd tasted their emotions, and they were cold, nothing like the usually warm and vibrant emotions Wren emitted.
In a way, it was jarring. Without him even realising it, Morgan had begun to rely on his ability to taste emotions almost as much as his sight and hearing. It was how his brain worked whether he liked it or not.
So, to have his senses betrayed so suddenly. It was as if Wren had just melted before his eyes and an imposter took their place.
He wasn't even sure at this point why they'd bothered stopping the guard. He'd already said too much and the cat was out of the bag.
Morgan found himself torn.
He'd had his suspicions of course, that Wren was the runaway son of some low ranking noble, and that maybe he'd gotten lost. But he had thought that if he got to know them, maybe they'd tell him more about themself.
Did he even know them anymore? Or was he always talking to a mask?
Without meaning to, he glanced in the opposite direction where darkness clouded his view of the fields. Could he trust Wren? If he wanted to, he could just walk away now and never have to worry about it again.
No, he wouldn't abandon his friend just because of his lineage. He chose to believe the cold, unfeeling version was the mask, and the person he'd gotten to know was the real Wren.
The sound of voices grew louder than ever as the wooden gate shuddered, he was out of time. Without any extra hesitation he broke into a sprint, eager to catch up to the other man who'd disappeared around the curve of the town's wall.
Morgan's legs burned as he struggled to close the distance, his breathing hard and laboured. By the time he finally caught up, sweat poured down his forehead.
Cautiously, his tongue flickered out to sample the air. Of the hundreds of different scents floating through the air, only two concerned him. The first was Iskandar, who radiated amusement and calculated calm in equal measure.
They'd been a silent witness to the whole situation, and had chosen not to say a word.
The other scent, however, came from Wren. It had shifted again, blending together the earlier detachment with the emotions he'd come to recognise.
Unwilling to say anything just yet, the two walked in silence for hours, with Morgan occasionally sampling the air to study the taste of Wren's emotions.
By the time he seemed ready to talk, the first rays of the sun lit the sky behind them and his emotions were mostly back to normal.
"I… I'm sorry that dead guy fell on you. I saw you froze up when that happened."
The silence hung heavier than any weight as Morgan worked to process his emotions. It wasn't the topic he'd wanted, but, it was the topic he needed. He hadn't paid much attention to his own emotions since that accident, too caught up in studying Wren's.
Logically though? What Wren had done was clean and simple, he'd saved his life when he froze up, and he didn't intend for the body to land where it did. He could understand the logic, even appreciate it.
But emotions didn't work that way, he just couldn't control them.
He shuddered as he remembered the way the man's head had blinked a final time, the way his blood seemed to scald his skin, the taste of his fear right before the end, it was just…
"Thanksss. You saved my life, I can get over a little blood on my clothesss…"
"Still-"
"I don't want to talk about it… please."
It was all he could do to end the conversation. He didn't want to think about the blood soaking slowly into his skin, or the way the man's body had slumped lifelessly. He just wanted time, time to think about what he'd done.
In the corner of his vision, a single panel flashed persistently. But he ignored it, even though he knew already what it would say.