Chapter 6: Vin'ash
For the first time in what felt like forever, Vin'Ash wasn't confined to the suffocating cage of his own thoughts.
As Laryoal stepped into the lively streets of the city, something inside him loosened—just slightly. The air itself felt different. It carried movement, noise, life… not the silent stillness he had grown used to.
People moved in all directions—some hurried, some relaxed, some laughing without care. Their voices blended into a constant hum, like a living organism breathing around him.
For a fleeting moment, he felt it—Life.
Like a bird that had forgotten how to fly, suddenly realizing the sky still existed.
But that feeling didn't last long. It never did.
A long, wide street stretched before him like the spine of the city. It ran straight from the massive gate at the entrance all the way to the far end of Vin'Ash, cutting through its heart.
On both sides, raised footpaths stood slightly above the main road, clean and precisely edged, as if measured by discipline rather than chance.
The surface was spotless—not a stray pebble, not a smear of dirt.
Multiple smaller streets branched out from it at intervals, like veins spreading from a central artery, feeding life into the quieter parts of the city.
Laryoal's eyes moved slowly—not in awe, but in observation.
He wasn't admiring. He was inspecting.
Every detail was being recorded somewhere inside him.
Beside him, Arifaom walked with a lighter step, almost bouncing with contained excitement. His white hair caught the fading sunlight, giving him an almost glowing presence.
He kept glancing sideways at Laryoal, waiting… expecting something.
Finally—
"Well? How is it? Isn't it well-organized?"
His eyes sparkled, lips slightly parted in anticipation, as if waiting for approval from someone important.
Laryoal didn't answer immediately.
He stopped walking for a brief moment, his gaze fixed ahead. His expression remained unreadable—neither impressed nor dismissive.
Then, without turning his head—
"We'll see."
A pause.
His voice came again, calm but firm:
"But first… tell me your name. It's better than guessing if I'm to talk to a new man in this place."
Arifaom blinked once, caught off guard.
Then he let out a short laugh, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
"My forgetfulness."
He straightened his posture slightly, as if correcting himself.
"I am Arifaom, from the Inamon community, fifth generation… and proud of Inamon itself."
As he said it, his chest lifted just a bit higher, pride slipping naturally into his tone.
Then he leaned slightly forward, eyes narrowing with curiosity and amusement.
"Now it's your turn—I hope you have a big one too."
Laryoal started walking again before replying.
"That's… long."
A small pause.
"And boring."
His tone was flat, but the timing of his words carried a quiet sting.
Arifaom's smile froze for half a second.
Not offended—just… slightly deflated.
Laryoal continued forward, hands relaxed by his sides, gaze fixed ahead.
People passed by them, occasionally glancing sideways. Some slowed down slightly. Others pretended not to look at all.
He noticed everything.
"I am Laryoal, from another Swarg."
He shrugged lightly, as if that alone should be enough.
Arifaom blinked again.
His expression shifted—confusion, then curiosity, then something sharper.
He let out a small chuckle.
"Hmm… too short for anything."
He tilted his head, studying Laryoal's face more closely now.
"But surely there's more than that."
His tone softened, but his eyes became more observant.
"At least tell me which Swarg you hail from. My master didn't tell me yet, so… let me hear it from you."
He leaned in slightly as they walked.
"Because—I like inspecting new places… but I never had a single chance to leave the—"
"First," Laryoal cut in.
His voice wasn't loud—but it stopped the sentence.
Arifaom's lips closed instantly.
Laryoal turned his head slightly this time, eyes sharp.
"Where am I staying?"
A brief pause.
"Do you even have an official place for guests?"
Arifaom's eyes narrowed just a little.
Not in anger—but in disappointment.
His posture straightened again, this time more rigid.
"No."
His tone lost its earlier warmth.
"We are strict on immigration. Only approved merchants and officials are invited."
He looked ahead now, no longer trying to read Laryoal's face.
"We don't even host the Swarines Games."
A faint bitterness slipped through.
"A competition played among twelve of fourteen towns in our swarg…"
He exhaled softly.
"Which is really sad. But Vin'Ash has always been… cornered for itself."
"Wait".
Laryoal interrupted again.
This time, a faint irritation showed on his face—slight wrinkles forming near his eyes.
"Answer my question first."
Arifaom paused.
Then sighed.
His shoulders dropped slightly, tension leaving him.
"Ah…"
He rubbed the side of his neck.
"Temporary guest houses are already filled. Some official meeting has been going on for weeks… and it seems it'll continue."
He glanced sideways at Laryoal carefully.
"My master said you would be hosted at my house until then."
Silence.
Laryoal didn't respond immediately.
His gaze had shifted again—to the people around them.
Some were clearly looking at him now. Not directly—but enough to be noticed.
Whispers without sound.
Curiosity without approach.
Arifaom noticed that.
A small understanding smile returned to his face.
He relaxed a bit.
"Don't worry,it's rare to see any new face coming from this gate which directly leads to the residential area , so they are just found the pin in the sand and more then that your dressing is way vague too.But.."
His voice softened again.
"Your are already welcome."as arifoam smiled
Laryoal's expression eased.
Just slightly.
The sharpness in his eyes faded.
"Is that so?"
A pause.
"Well, I have no problem."
He looked forward again.
"It's only a night."
Another pause.
His voice lowered a little.
"As for me… I think what you know is enough."
A faint, almost invisible shift in his expression.
"Nothing special about me anyway."
Arifaom let out a short laugh.
But this time, it wasn't light.
It carried curiosity.
"Nothing?"
He tilted his head again.
"I just like talking to foreigners."
A brief pause.
"For some reason, the lord of my town gave attention to your arrival."
He studied Laryoal again, more carefully now.
"But you're tired."
His tone relaxed again.
"Let's enjoy the night in my way and my wife makes the best food in whole community and in whole vin'ash itself."
A smile spread across his face—genuine this time.
"And also My town has much to show… but tonight, we'll make it simple."
Laryoal nodded once.
"Of course."
A faint spark appeared in his eyes.
"I love new places."
Though deep inside—
He knew.
He had never truly seen one before.Expect his home and muddy playground he made for himself between those green bushes in leo'rashy.
Meanwhile…
In a quieter corner of Vin'Ash, away from the main street's life—
A door creaked open.
A teenage boy stepped out.
Luion.
His frame was broad for his age ,long height and shoulders that naturally squared, though his posture carried a slight forward lean—as if weighed down by something unseen.
His beard was uneven, scattered across his jaw like his unfinished thoughts.
His curly hair refused order, falling in all directions.
And his expression—
Teenage irritation.
Frustration.
Something constantly burning beneath the surface.
"Luion! Where are you going?"
A sharp voice pierced through the stillness.
"It's been three days since your last bath! Don't you any shame .What will people think?"
Luion froze for half a second.
His jaw tightened.
His eyes closed briefly.he took a short but heavy breath.
Then—
"Mother, can you shut up?"a soar voice came with anger
He didn't turn back.
"It's evening. I'll manage in the morning."
A few nearby neighbors slowed their steps.
Not openly staring—but listening.
Luion felt it.
His ears burned slightly.
Inside—
Why does she always shout?
I don't care about anything else…
But still… damn mother.
He walked faster.
The evening light softened around him as he moved deeper into quieter streets.
Here, the noise faded.
The air felt calmer.
This was his escape.
Luion wasn't someone who enjoyed conversations.
Not because he couldn't speak—
But because he didn't want to answer.
Questions felt like traps.
Judgments felt inevitable.
As he crossed many narrow but mostly empty streets he came the front of the long wide main Street which was nice as it was.
He mostly spends his evenings or even afternoons if he his not in school —where he could sit, look up, and watch the moon shift colors slowly across the night.
That was enough for him.
As Luion stepped onto the main wide street, the evening crowd brushed past him in a steady rhythm.
He turned right, intending to walk straight ahead—when his eyes caught something unusual.
Two figures.
In the middle of all that familiar movement, they stood out.
Not loudly… but enough.
One of them wore strange clothing—unfamiliar, out of place, almost as if he didn't belong to Vin'Ash at all. The way he walked, the way he carried himself—it was different.
The other—
Luion narrowed his eyes slightly.
He recognized him.
Arifaom.
Not closely. Not personally. But enough to know his name. Enough to know he was known.
Famous in his community…
Luion paused for a brief second.
His gaze lingered.
His mind tried to make something out of it.
Then—
Nothing.
He exhaled lightly and moved forward again.
Doesn't matter.
Why should it?
He never cared for anyone.
At least—that's what he always told himself.
Even when he saw someone familiar, he would rather walk past than exchange a single word. Conversations felt unnecessary. Forced. Empty.
But just as he was about to continue—
Another figure appeared ahead.
Walking straight toward the same street.
Luion froze.
His body reacted before his thoughts could fully form.
He took a quick, heavy step backward—too sudden, almost clumsy. There was a hint of awkwardness in it… and something else.
Something closer to fear.
His eyes widened slightly.
His lips pressed tight.
Uncle… again?
A flicker of irritation crossed his face, quickly mixed with discomfort.
I don't want to meet him.
Even if I do… what would I even say?
His jaw clenched.
I hate this guy.
Why now…?
Why this people don't let me alone .
A pause.
I guess… I have to wait.
Without wasting another second, Luion turned back.
He retraced his steps quietly, slipping into the street he had just crossed. Moving closer to a small house, he pressed himself against the side wall, keeping out of sight.
His breathing slowed.
His body stiffened.
From behind the wall, he leaned just enough to look.
Watching.
Waiting.
Searching for a moment to move without being seen.
Far ahead—
Laryoal's gaze shifted.
Though he had been mostly ignoring Arifaom's constant chatter, something caught his attention.
That movement.
That sudden retreat.
He slowed ever so slightly.
His eyes focused.
A boy.
Hiding.
Avoiding someone.
For a brief moment, something stirred within him.
A faint pull.
Not curiosity.
Not concern.
Something older.
Something distant.
…familiar.
But the feeling didn't stay long enough to understand.
Laryoal's expression remained calm, unreadable.
He let the thought pass.
Instead, his attention drifted back to the city—the streets, the people, the unseen patterns beneath it all.
There was more to observe.
More to understand.
Behind the wall—
Luion remained still.
His eyes fixed on the road.
Watching the back of his uncle.
Waiting.
For the right moment to slip away.
End of Chapter 6
To be continued °