Jaycee’s eyes burned upon exiting the bar. He raised his hood to shield himself from the biting wind that whipped past violently. Even in the warm spring months, those had always known the world above to be chilly. The saying “the closer to hell, the warmer you are; the closer to heaven, the colder you become” was now a proven fact.

Ahead of him, the unnamed girl marched forward as if propelled by an unseen fire beneath her. Indeed, they were on a deadline, but given that it was the devil’s hour, what could they possibly accomplish that couldn’t wait until morning?

He doubted his sanity when he considered seeking help from that group as a viable option. He understood that nothing in life came without a cost. But when one was desperate enough, they’d do anything save from death itself.

“Hey, speed it up over there. I don’t have all day. You want to leave this floating city, don’t you?” The girl, now dubbed ‘the brat’, swiveled her head to shoot him a glare, her movements echoing those of an owl: omniscient and exceedingly irritating.

Jaycee exhaled deeply, at a loss for a retort. His clothes reeked, and his body throbbed with pain. Prison had not offered him an optimistic view on life, nor had it eased the sharp pain in his back from sleeping on the hard floor.

The girl guided them along the city’s winding trails. The firmness of the cement pressed against his feet through the tattered soles of his boots, reminding him of the need for a new pair soon. Houses of various sizes lined the path, their brilliant lights casting a glow on the grass beneath. The color green was so uncommon in the world below that he nearly mistook it for fake grass.

After what seemed like an hour passed, Jaycee was about to voice a complaint when he unexpectedly bumped into the back of the brat. She furrowed her brows, yet, curiously, remained quiet. Although her next words did nothing to ease the intensifying, throbbing ache behind his eyes.

“I unlocked this house earlier, and it was empty. There’s food, a bed, and weapons inside. It seems to be a blacksmith’s residence.” She kicked the door open, and Jaycee cringed as it hit the wall with a resounding thump. “Feel free to make yourself at home!”

Not only did she appear to be unstable, but now he could also label her as a thief among his mounting grievances. Surely, whoever employed her must acknowledge her as a liability, right?

“Uh, thanks,” Jaycee said, his voice dripping with sarcasm that the brat had failed to detect. Meanwhile, she settled in, a stolen apple from the table already in hand. A loud crunch followed.

Ignoring her for a moment, he surveyed his surroundings. The scent of fresh flowers lingered in the air, a welcome change from the bar’s earlier odors. The house was quaint and only comprised a two main rooms with a bathroom tucked away in the corner. Picture frames with unfamiliar faces hung on the walls, some crooked, some straight. To his surprise, it didn’t look like anyone had been home in a few days.

“Now’s the time to grab a weapon and get some rest,” she said, her mouth full, yet that didn’t stop her from chattering away. “In my opinion, you need it. When was the last time you slept? Those dark circles under your eyes are massive.”

Jaycee inhaled deeply and counted to three before pivoting. In the corner lay a bed, and nearby, a short sword rested against the wall. The fluffy brown blanket appeared inviting, and he envisioned collapsing into slumber the moment his head touched the pillow. After all, sleeping was his favorite pastime. In his dream world, the annoying girl beside him would cease to exist.

As his companion rambled on about trivial matters, he slid beneath the covers and rolled over, his eyes shutting almost instantly. For a moment, he contemplated what the hell he got himself into. Despite his eagerness to return home, the prospect of being featured on a wanted poster for life was depressing him.

Pondering it now was pointless. The decision had already been made. With that final thought, he surrendered to the realm of dreams.