Fathir opened his eyes.
He was in a bed, under a thick blanket. Pale morning light filtered through a small window, illuminating a simple room with wooden walls. Dust was visible, floating in the pillar of light. He then felt an arm wrapped tightly around his waist.
Fathir's body immediately tensed. His heart, which had been beating slowly, now began to pound. With a stiff movement, he turned his head slightly. Lairas's blue-purple hair was spread out on the pillow next to him. The woman's face was calm in her sleep, her warm breath touching the back of his neck. Her arm was hugging Fathir from behind.
Fathir swallowed. The air in his lungs felt tight. This was the first time in five years he had shared a bed, and the person was the crazy woman who had bought him, freed him, and then wanted to make him her husband. His mind raced, searching for a way out. If he moved suddenly, she would wake up.
What would happen if she woke up.. are this building goin to explode? Fathir thought
Lairas shifted slightly in her sleep, a soft murmur escaping her lips. Her embrace loosened a little.
This was his chance.
With slowed movements, Fathir began to free himself. He lifted Lairas's arm from his waist inch by inch, held it in the air for a moment, then carefully lowered it onto the mattress. He then slid his body to the edge of the bed. The mattress springs creaked softly. Fathir froze, his breath held. Lairas did not react. He continued his movement until his bare feet touched the cold wooden floor. The cool morning air was an immediate shock to his skin. He stood silently beside the bed for several seconds, making sure the woman was still fast asleep, before finally walking out of the bedroom.
The main room of the cottage was still dim. The remains of last night's fire were just faint red embers in the stone fireplace. The faint aroma of roasted meat still lingered in the air. Fathir walked to one of the wooden chairs and sat down, staring blankly at the embers. The clean cotton clothes he wore felt strange against his skin, too soft. The silence on the mountaintop was absolute, broken only by the occasional crackle of the embers.
The bedroom door opened a few moments later. Lairas stepped out, yawning and stretching her arms above her head. She was wearing only a thin, white nightgown. Seeing Fathir already sitting there, she smiled.
"Morning, darling. Did you sleep well?"
"Unfortunately not," Fathir replied curtly, not looking at her.
Lairas seemed unconcerned. She walked to the hand pump for water in the corner of the kitchen and began to pump it. The sound of water flowing into the copper sink broke the silence. She washed her face, then began to prepare breakfast. There was no conspicuous magic this time. She took a knife, cut up some strangely colored fruits on a wooden board, and toasted bread on an iron grill over the embers.
She placed two plates of cut fruit and toast on the table, along with two cups of steaming herbal tea. Fathir stared at the simple meal. His stomach rumbled softly. He then took a piece of toast and began to eat.
They ate in silence. Lairas hummed softly to herself occasionally, while Fathir focused on his food, feeling the crisp texture of the toast and the foreign sweet taste of the fruit on his tongue.
Once their plates were empty, Lairas gathered them. With a single snap of her fingers, the plates were instantly clean and back on the shelf. "Come on," she said, standing up. "There's something I want to show you."
Fathir followed her out of the cottage. The morning air outside felt colder and fresher. The sun was higher now, its light warm on his skin. Lairas led him to the other side of the cottage, to a small garden sheltered by rock formations.
The garden was full of plants Fathir had never seen before. There were flowers whose petals were made of a thin, glass-like material, making a soft chiming sound when the wind blew through them. There was moss clinging to the rocks that absorbed sunlight and then phosphoresced with a faint green light in the shaded areas.
Why is she showing me the garden? Fathir thought.
Lairas approached a bush with dark blue berries. "This is the source of this morning's jam," she said, plucking one and holding it out to Fathir. "Try it."
I don't care! Fathir grumbled internally.
However, after a moment's hesitation, he accepted the berry and put it in his mouth. A sweet and slightly sour taste exploded on his tongue, leaving a pleasant cooling sensation.
The smile on Lairas's face disappeared. Her face became flat again. "That's enough for the tour," she said. Her voice sounded flat. "Follow me."
She turned and walked along the path, back toward the front of the cottage. Fathir followed a few steps behind her.
She kept walking across the rocky ground until she stood right at the edge of the chasm.
Here, the wind blew stronger. The tips of Fathir's purple hair moved because of the wind. Below them, a thick layer of clouds was visible, stretching to the horizon.
Fathir stopped beside Lairas, keeping a distance between them. He looked down, at the layer of clouds, before looking back at Lairas.
"To fulfill my promise of making you the strongest, we must start from the basics. About being an Assassin." lairas said
Fathir remained standing, leaning against the simple wooden railing at the edge of the chasm. He said nothing, just waited.
"As you know," Lairas continued, "an Assassin's true power only 'awakens' after reaching level 15. Before that, you are merely a mortal with extraordinary skills. Your strength comes purely from your physique." She paused, looking at Fathir intently. "Speed, agility, knowledge of anatomy to disable a target with a single strike, expertise in poisons, ability to read the environment. Controlling an army of shadows and also controlling shadow itself… so much potential from your class, my dear."
"Well, like you said," Fathir finally spoke, his voice flat and cynical, "leveling up isn't easy as far as I know. I've seen many idiot assassins dying foolishly because of their level-up ritual."
"Exactly," Lairas said, unfazed by his cynicism. "Their bodies are not ready. Their minds are not ready. They receive immense power but don't have a vessel strong enough to contain it, so they are destroyed. I don't want you to die foolishly like that, my dear Fathir. Your body might be stiff from being a slave for too long, so our training now is to perfect your physique until it surpasses mortal limits. We will forge your body into a perfect vessel."
Lairas stood up and walked to Fathir's side, looking down into the chasm below them. She pointed to a spot on the vertical cliff face, about ten meters down. There, growing alone, was a flower with crystal-blue petals that shimmered in the sunlight.
"Your first training is simple," Lairas said, her voice calm. "Fetch me that flower."
Fathir looked down. The cliff face was nearly flat, with only a few small stone protrusions here and there. The rock looked fragile, and the wind blew strongly in the open space.
He turned to look at Lairas. The woman was smiling gently.
"You can definitely do it, my dear."