Spear rose slowly and unsteadily from the cold stones, his body aching and his head ringing like a funeral bell, underlining the weight of the memories that had washed over him. He ran a hand over his face, feeling the ugly roughness of dried blood and ingrained dirt that seemed almost tangible to him. The alley around him was silent, and only the distant hum of the market reached here, reminding him of the life boiling behind him, but this silence pressed on him like an approaching storm, foreshadowing imminent disaster and dangers that he could only guess at.
He looked around, trying to gather the fragments of memory into a whole, as if from a broken mirror. The woman in the shop, her false smile, the amulet that disappeared like a mirage. The man in the hood, the glittering dagger, the dance with death in which Spear barely survived. Too real to be a mere coincidence, too sinister to be a truth that could be easily forgotten.
"They are in this together," he whispered, clenching his fists until the knuckles turned white, as if trying to control the emotions raging inside him. His fingers trembled, not from fear, but from the seething rage that pierced his soul. He was trusting, but he was not blind. He had no idea where he was, his clothes were dirty, threadbare, and soaked in blood, and the cold and the approaching night were squeezing him in their vices like the inexorable grip of fate.
He had to run. Staying here was tantamount to signing the death warrant that was written for him in this dark world. Spear listened. The noise of the market was closer, beckoning with its life and frightening with its chaos. He moved in its direction, creeping along the damp walls like a ghost, trying to merge with the shadows that seemed to be his only allies. Every rustle made him shudder, every shadow seemed like a murderer waiting for him around the corner, ready to plunge him into nightmares again.
And then he burst into the market square. The bright light of the torches, the deafening noise of voices, the intoxicating smell of roasting meat - all this fell on him after the darkness of the alley, like a blow to the head with a club. The copy was overwhelmed by disorientation, which came like a hostile enemy. He looked around, trying to understand where he was, in what part of this living and seething world. The architecture of the buildings was unfamiliar, as were the faces of passers-by, flickering like ghosts. He was in a strange city, alone, wounded and betrayed, like a tired traveler left without a roof over his head. He needed to survive at any cost. "I need to become… stronger," Spear remembered the woman casually mentioning that in order to do that, I needed to go down into the dungeons and gain… some mysterious "divine theology." What did she call it?.." Falna… Favor, sometimes called a blessing, bestowed by the Gods and Goddesses upon their family members. The thought of joining someone's family to become stronger filled his mind again.
Spear stepped into the seething stream of the market crowd, his body tense like a bowstring, ready to fire at any moment. Every glance thrown his way seemed sharper than a dagger piercing his defenses. He could feel the wounds pulsing, reminding him of the recent fight, but he could not allow himself to stop, no doubts or hesitations. His goal was clear - to find someone who could introduce him to the family of the gods. Falna Favor. It was his only salvation. Spear made his way through the crowd, looking for any sign that might indicate Falna's presence. He listened to snatches of conversation, peered into people's faces, trying to catch at least some hint of a divine connection. Merchants were calling out to customers, children were running between the stalls with squeals, street musicians were playing simple melodies that merged with the hum of life. It all seemed so alien and unimportant compared to his own desperate and relentless struggle to survive in this cruel world.
Spear somehow found a completely unceremonious way to the right, went into a dark alley to rest and collect himself, because he was exhausted. Sitting down on the cold pavement, he felt the piercing wind prick his skin, as if this whole world was against him. "I have bad luck, as luck would have it," he thought with bitterness and sadness. "Not a day has passed since I was robbed and beaten." He was about to fall into a restless sleep when suddenly an elderly woman approached him, unexpectedly emerging from the shadows. Her black hair was gathered into a neat bun on top of her head, and her thin face, as if from another era, glowed with kindness and care.
"Hello, boy," she said softly, her voice sounding like a message from a distant comfort. "I see you need help. Will you come with me? My name is Maria Martel, and what is your name?"
Kopiy froze, warily peering into her face, trying to read her intentions. Mistrust fought with desperate hope in his heart. Finally, he squeezed out of himself, as if looking for a saving thread of communication:
"Kopiy. My name is Kopiy.
Maria smiled, and her eyes warmed, as if instilling hope.
- Copies, then. Come, I have a warm hearth and some food. Tellou can see what happened to you, and we will try to fix it.
She extended her hand to him, and after a moment's hesitation, Kopiy accepted it with gratitude. The warmth of her palm seemed to him like salvation in this strange and hostile world, something he had always sought but could never find. He stood up, feeling the pain in his wounds, but with Maria by his side, fear and anxiety began to recede, giving way to serenity and hope.
They walked for a long time, as if into eternity. The further they went, the gloomier the streets became, the houses looked abandoned and dismal, like dark ghosts, full of unnecessary history. Kopiy could not resist and asked, rummaging through his thoughts:
- Where are we going?
Maria, after a pause, answered with a certain gentle, insistent calm:
- To my shelter. This is the place where we will help those in need.
- Where is it?
- On Daedalus Street.
- What kind of area is this?
- Daedalus Street is a large residential area for the poor of Orario. It was designed by an eccentric man known as Daedalus, who had an insanely disordered mind. Due to the many redevelopments, this area is quite tangled, like a spider's web.
- I see, - muttered Copius, sadly and a little bitterly thinking that he was once again awaiting a miserable existence full of difficulties.
Maria led Copius through narrow, dirty streets, where the walls of the houses, like closed jaws, pressed with their tightness, like merciless guards. The air was thick with the smell of rot and dampness, penetrating his lungs, disgustingly in harmony with his internal state. Spear felt his body tremble traitorously under the influence of all these sensations, but he gritted his teeth, not wanting to seem weak and out of place in this place. His wounds ached, every step was painful, as if it were unnatural, but he walked because he simply had no other choice. He fought not only with the distance, but with himself.
"You look as if you were run over by a cart," Maria said, her voice soft, but there was something anxious in her eyes, indicating her concern. "What happened, boy? You can tell me."
Spear was silent, his lips pressed into a thin line. He did not know if he could trust this woman, but her warmth and care seemed the only light in his dark life, the only thing he could cling to in this chaos.
"It doesn't matter," he muttered at last, trying his best to hide the despair that had gripped him. "Just… a bad day, no matter how you look at it."
Maria didn't insist, showing her kindness. She only nodded and continued to lead him, her steps confident, as if she knew every crack in these pavements, as it once was, full of confidence. They came to a wide square, surrounded by dilapidated buildings, where shadows moved as if alive, dancing with fear between memories. Spear felt a chill run down his spine. Something was wrong here, but he couldn't put his finger on it, as if a curtain of fate hid the truth.
"Here we are," Maria said, pointing to a tall building with peeling plaster, very different from everything he had seen. "This is my shelter. Here you can rest and find protection from the outside world."
He asked her how many children were here, with hope in his heart.
- A lot, - Maria answered optimistically. - Here you will not feel lonely as before.
A week passed. At first, the children avoided him, watching him warily and with curiosity, but gradually Kopiy made friends. He felt like he was the oldest of the children in this hectic game of fate, he was now thirteen years old, and he had experienced many hardships. The oldest here was nine-year-old Rai, a human boy with chestnut hair that was always out of place. His skin was covered with small cuts from constant playing outside, which added to his character. Rai was friendly and quickly befriended Kopiy, learning his sad story. He became his first friend who understood. Rai also dreamed of becoming an adventurer, like the heroes of his favorite books. Then he met a girl named Fina. Fina has long, straight, cream-colored hair like a waterfall, and she has ears and a tail like a cute animal. She is very open and says everything that comes to mind, without thinking about the consequences or formalities.
There, Copius met Sir, and they quickly became friends, forming a strong friendship. She is sixteen years old, and she has already seen quite a lot in her short life. She has bluish-gray hair, pulled back into a ponytail, and eyes of the same unusual color. Her skin is light, peach-colored, like rays of sunshine. She behaves cheerfully and good-naturedly, usually slightly mischievous, and sometimes scaring others, jokingly with ease. Copius did not trust her 100%, although he liked her as a person. Sir helped the orphanage and Maria Martel herself take care of the children, as if she served as their protector. She said that she worked as a waitress at the "Mistress of Fertility", as he understood, this is a pub where various people gather with their stories. He did not he knew nothing about her, and this did not reassure him, but at least this small fragment of her life gave him some hint of hope.