The Southern City

The stranger was tall, his head almost scraping the ceiling. He pulled back his hood, revealing a handsome face with sharp features and dull brown eyes. On top of his head was a mop-like mess of black hair. "My name is Cacyier. I hail from the homeland northeast of here, demon-kin," He said with a subtle accent and a Suave wink.

I couldn't help but feel intrigued. "What do you know?" I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.

Cacyier leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know things about your past, your true identity," he said, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "Things that could shake up this very continent."

I felt a sense of panic rising within me. What did he know about my past? I had no memories before waking up in the forest with Veronica and Vayren.

"What do you want in return?" Vayren asked, his voice cold and distrustful.

Cacyier smirked, his eyes flickering with amusement. "Nothing, I am only here to serve my Lord," he said apprehensively.

"And who might that be?" Veronica asked, her voice sharp.

Cacyier looked at us for a moment before focusing on me, "Don't worry about it just yet, my liege. The time will come. I will prepare the homeland for your return now." He said his voice brimming with confidence.

Cacyier turned and left the inn, his cloak billowing behind him as he disappeared into the night. Veronica, Vayren, and I sat in silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts.

"What do you think that was about?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Veronica shook her head. "I have no idea; maybe he's the socially awkward type."

Vayren nodded in agreement. "I am only here to serve my Lord." he mimicked Cacyier mockingly with a bow.

Veronica shifted her gaze to me. "So you really are a demon." she marveled

"I'm sorry?" her statement caught me off guard. I wasn't sure what she meant.

"Well, we had our suspicions when we found you back in the forest. I figured it couldn't be the case since you lacked any truly demonic attributes, but the black hair was probably the biggest giveaway." She rattled on.

Bewildered, I asked, "Am I a demon?"

Vayren looked at me with surprise. "Well, maybe not, but I haven't met anyone with black hair who isn't, but Veronica is right. You lack the typical attributes. Maybe you're a special case, a half-breed or something," he said with a hint of intrigue.

"I guess I never thought of my race. I just assumed I was the same as you guys, but what constitutes demonic attributes?"

"Well, demon is more of a broad categorization of traits that made up the citizens of the Demon Kings nation. During the period of founding, it was the six kings who dubbed them demons. The term kind of stuck when the Demon King vanished, as his people saw it as a way to eternalize their faith in their leader. So now, the term demon encapsulates the traits common to the people of the demon's domain. Those traits tend to be hair colors out of the norm, such as black and white, as well as more animalistic traits, such as a variety of horns, ears, and fangs." Veronica rattled off with an almost excitement in her eyes.

As we retired for the night, I couldn't help but wonder about what Cacyier had said. Who was I really, and what secrets did my past hold? And what did Cacyier want in return for his knowledge? These questions plagued my mind as I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with visions of a black-haired demon with the same crest and runic writing on his forehead as me, a fierce flaming red right eye that contrasted his dull hazel left. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, a significant bit older than me.

As I slept, my dreams were filled with the image of this black-haired man. I could see him wielding a sword, fighting off a horde of assailants with ease. His movements were fluid and graceful as he danced across the battlefield without an action wasted. Just as he was about to strike down the final assailant, he suddenly disappeared, leaving me alone in a sea of darkness.

I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. The dream had felt all too real, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over me. What did it mean? Who was the black-haired man, and why did he seem so familiar?