CHAPTER 5 LARYOAL BLACK
The woman, thin as a stick, carried a black pot strapped to her back. To compensate for its weight, her body bent forward, her spine curved as she walked carefully, each step measured under the harsh yellow sun.
As she moved ahead, eyes fixed on the ground, she suddenly heard a voice calling out.
There was no clear direction from where it came, no visible caller—yet she instinctively knew it was meant for her.
She turned slightly to her side.
Beside her, another girl—also carrying a black pot, her back bent in the same painful curve—had reacted in the exact same way. That small confirmation eased her nerves, even if only a little.
Slowly, cautiously, she turned back toward the direction of the call.
And then she saw him.
A straight and tall, well-built figure stood at a distance.
He wore shadowy clothes that concealed most of his identity. A black mask covered his face from nose to neck. His silky black hair fell across one side, hiding his right eye, giving the eerie illusion that he was blind in one eye.
At his waist hung a strange, dark sword—rusty, black, and oddly lifeless. Even under the blazing yellow sunlight, it reflected nothing, as if it absorbed light instead of returning it.
He raised his hand and waved, a gesture that carried a strange sense of helplessness.
The woman's body stiffened.
She knew too well—places like forests were not kind to lone travelers. Even she, born and raised here, followed strict rules set by the town's lordship.
And the most important rule for wanderers:
"Never answer the call of the unknown."
Especially near the forests.
Those forests… even their mere presence brought nightmares. For reasons no one could explain, everything within them—from towering trees to the smallest blades of grass—was black.
Not just one forest.
All forests surrounding her town shared this unnatural phenomenon.
And now…
A man had emerged from that very darkness.
Her thin frame trembled like a thread in the wind.
Seeing them halt, Laryoal didn't waste time.
If he approached too suddenly, they might run.
So he spoke from where he stood, raising his voice just enough to reach them. A gentle smile formed on his lips—though hidden beneath the mask.
"Madam," he called out calmly, "I am no danger. I am just lost… can you help me find the way to the land of people?"
The woman, already on the verge of running, felt a cold chill crawl up her spine.
But what shook her more…
…was that he spoke one of her known languages —Vaerman.
Broken, uneven—but understandable.
Her thoughts tangled.
She knew she couldn't outrun him—not with the heavy pot on her back, and certainly not with the girl beside her.
And then she remembered something her husband once told her—
something that bent the rules she had lived by:
"If you cannot win the chase… do not provoke what calls you."
Her breath grew shallow.
Slowly, she let go of the thought of running.
She would leave it to fate.
After a long pause, she spoke carefully, her voice restrained:
"Hello, sir… can I know who you are first, and where you are from? You see… your Vaerman seems a little… rusty."
As she spoke, she subtly took a step back, tightening her grip on the girl's hand.
The girl struggled silently, still focused on balancing the weight on her back, yet a faint instinct to flee stirred within her.
Laryoal let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Indeed, ma'am."
As he said that, he began walking toward them—his pace quick but controlled.
Closing the distance, he stopped a few steps away and spoke again:
"Hello again… myself Laryoal… Laryoal Black, ma'am. I came from another swarg … 'the Swarg of sormeyi' specifically. And as a new one in this 'Swarg,' I just learned the language on my way here, when I passed through its gate."
He paused briefly, adjusting his posture.
"I still had no luck finding the town. Even my fellowship didn't give me any idea… and I lost them on my way due to some… shameful reason."
After the long explanation, he exhaled deeply, relaxing his shoulders slightly.
The woman shifted her weight, struggling to steady the pot on her back.
Still wary, she forced herself to respond—drawing courage from what little knowledge she had.
"From the swarg of sormeyi? Well, I don't know much about those things. Maybe my husband does. But he told me one thing—
it's not easy to cross from one 'Swarg' to another."
She tightened her grip on the girl's hand.
"So… I don't think my town will give you entry as a stranger."
Laryoal nodded calmly.
"No worry, ma'am. You just need to get me to the entrance. From there… I will handle it."
She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"But still… if some bad omen comes with you and causes trouble in the town… then me and my family will be in danger."
Laryoal raised his hands slightly, reassuring.
"Then you just need to show me the direction under the sun. I will guide myself."
He looked briefly toward the horizon.
The woman went silent.
Then suddenly, without hesitation, she spoke:
"Then ,, then fallow the sun straight and it will be good before the sun drowns completely."
She paused.
Laryoal narrowed his eyes slightly.
That was too easy…
Strange for how she was completely showing fear before as he
But he had no choice.
He needed shelter before nightfall.
"Thank you, ma'am. That was a great help. I hope the future gives me a chance to repay you."
She gave a small nod.
"Well then… have a safe journey, I have some work to do so I will be coming after a while you can move on sir."
With that, she gently pulled the girl along, and the two continued on their path, slowly fading into the distance.
Laryoal stood still for a moment, watching them disappear.
He had this nagging feeling when he saw the women pass fading .
Then, without wasting another second, he turned and began moving in the direction she had given—his steps steady, uninterrupted.
After a long journey…
Under the fading drowning red sun, he walked way long in deserted area with sand and dust and less of vegetation which were dark in black,
As he was passing and passing he was still thinking about the conversation he had before with that women with black pot ,he was sure he was missing something or someone in that whole scenario, and as he let grounded eyes to the straight
He finally saw it.
The gates of Town Vinash stood before him.
The gate was massive and square-shaped, completely sealed with thick wooden slabs and they were making dim appearance with the night coming.
Above it hung a signboard which was a thick wooden slabnwhihc was thick black in colour and on that crafted words written in the local script:
– TOWN VIN ASH –
-THE MOONS GUIDE-
and below that another sentence was scrubbed with harsh and deep cuts .
– NO FOREIGNERS ARE WELCOMED –
As Laryoal observed the structure, lost in thought…
A small sliding panel—no bigger than a palm—opened on the gate.
From the darkness within, a pair of black eyes appeared.
Then came a rough, commanding voice:
"Hello. No strangers are invited without any advance approval."
Laryoal's expression hardened instantly.
His demeanor shifted—cold, sharp, and composed.
Without a word, he reached into his leather bag and took out a strange black-covered book. Its title was written in an unknown language.
He placed it carefully in front of the small opening.
The eyes stared at it for a few seconds.
Then vanished.
The panel shut.
Moments later, the same voice returned:
"You may come. But with some conditions you must obey like you are not allowed to wander around the town. You must not break the lordship's rules. And you must meet the Highness tomorrow at with the guide we incharged for you . Not by yourself."
A pause.
"With all your belongings."
Another pause.
"For now, you will stay in a designated room."
The gate opened—but only slightly.
Just enough for a single man to pass through.
Laryoal stepped forward without hesitation.
As he entered, his sharp eyes scanned everything around him.
a young man stood infront of him .
He wore an orange robe, reinforced with chest plates, and carried a sword at his side with light outfit and his white hair flowing until it's should.
Laryoal stopped in front of him.
"Are you the one who was speaking?"
The young man shook his head politely.
"No, sir. That was our gatekeeper. I am just your guide until tomorrow, and ,,,"
Without further interest in talk cutting the youngs mans conversation as Laryoal walked past him.
Crossing the threshold…
He finally laid eyes on the town.
Vin'ash.
The End
To be continued °