Phoenix of the Ashes: Asche

"Jorg! Pass that hyremenia!" Asche called out to his brother. He was currently bending over their father who was breaking out in cold sweats and half-dead on their stone bed. It was not that they liked sleeping on stone - but that they had no money. Jorg grabbed the vial of hyremenia from the stone ledge and raced to Asche. 

"Here it is! Is he getting any better?" Jorg excitedly asked. After all, a month ago, Asche made enough money to buy some doses of medicine for their sick father.

"Shh.. He needs to sleep." Jorg rolled his eyes at the hypocrisy. Asche leaned close to his father, the chill of the cave seeping into his bones. He uncorked the vial, the bitter scent of hyremenia filling the stale air. Asche raised his father on ... some stone cushions and gave him the medicine. He could barely drink it and some dribbled down his chin, but Ache was satisfied with the result. "How? How is -" Jorg started. Asche didn't waste time in putting a finger on Jorg's mouth.

The small stone cave they lived in had a small crawlspace to enter in from, and just around the corner from the entrance was the "room" they all lived in, which contained a rusty pot over a three-stone fire, several stones arranged around it, stone ledges on the wall with their belongings and a big flat stone slab which they used as their bed.

"Father, how is it?" Asche murmured, watching his father's tired eyes open, just for a moment. A faint nod was his only answer. Satisfied, Asche laid him back down and guided Jorg outside the cave. Once they were a good distance from the cave, Jorg turned to Asche.

"He's going to die, isn't he?"

"I hope so," Asche murmured, barely above a whisper. He turned his gaze out toward the empty moors, the red lines, purple bruises and welts peeking out from his clothes speaking louder than words. "A month more," he said softly, more to himself than Jorg. "One more month, and I'll be sixteen." 

Jorg said nothing, staring out over the moors, avoiding his brother's eyes. He didn't want to admit it, but he shared the same dark wish. Both knew that under uniorielle law, only those sixteen to eighteen were given partial emancipation and allowed to work legally. Asche had been working under their father's name, but if he wanted to leave, he'd need that freedom.

A comforting silence settled over them. Jorg closed his eyes, exhaling deeply. Slowly, his skin began to shimmer, the faint outline of a unicorn horn emerging, glinting like silver in the sunlight. Moments later, Jorg stood transformed, half unicorn from the waist down, astoundingly bright blue hair streaming behind him.

"Race you!" he shouted, laughing as he galloped into the moors, his silver horn flashing in the sunlight. 

Asche smiled, caught by surprise and just started running after Jorg. It was time to open the stall after all.

Asche jogged after Jorg, his breath coming in sharp puffs in the crisp morning air. The sky over the moors stretched wide, grey and endless, as he caught up to his brother, who had transformed back to his usual form, still grinning as he shook out his brilliant blue hair.

When they reached a small wooden shed near the outskirts of the town, the two of them wound their way down a narrow trail that led to the small town of Baelridge.

"The woodcutter isn't here today, Asche." Jorg pointed out.

"Drats. I needed some of his lighting wax. I've almost run out." Asche sighed. 

The wax made it easier to light fires. Asche had to scratch two sharp stones endlessly before he'd be able to light a twig to make a fire for the makeshift stone stove they had in their house. It was a slab on top of two square stones with a circular hole Asche had carved out. They put wood under to burn and since the stone got hot, they could grill too. Plus it made the cave warm.

 "Remind me to pass by his house when we close," Asche said as he rummaged through his bag to check its contents.

"Alright," Jorg replied. He was busily staring at a stall selling carrot candies. 

"Jorg. We don't have money for that. Let's hurry up or we're going to be late." Jorg visibly deflated but walked quicker.

After quite a long trek, they reached the Baelridge market. Baelridge was a small bustling town full of traders and merchants full of big stone roads and lots of greenery. The town had a few nobles with giant mansions, but most were old families or new nobles who wanted a quiet life away from the capital. Still, here, Asche scraped together just enough to survive. 

Asche pulled a folded cloth from his satchel and began setting up their makeshift stall. Their wares were meagre—handmade trinkets, rough-hewn charms, a few simple enchanted stones Asche had managed to scavenge on his trips through the forest and repair. Basically anything Asche could gather to sell. 

But Ashe knew that with the right words and a bit of luck, they could sell enough to buy food, maybe even more medicine for their father.

 After the market guards came around to do their usual license-checking, they settled down to sell for the day. Asche muttered under his breath. "One more month of this, and I'm out," he grumbled, tossing a hand over their shabby display with a dramatic flourish. "The rocks don't even sparkle." He picked up one of the river stones, examining it with exaggerated disdain."Seriously, why would Father even sell this?"

Jorg, curious, asked. "Then how did Father get enough money to drink every day?"

Asche froze, seeing the question was dangerously close to exposing his father's real source of income. "Um... I guess he earns enough for drinks every day. Just like how I can earn enough for food every day." Jorg seemed to buy it. "But, seriously Jorg, where did you get this sad batch of charms?" Asche started, trying to change the subject.

Jorg rolled his eyes but didn't say anything, used to Asche's morning complaints. Asche noticed and shot him a look. "What?" he snapped. "You think you'd do better?"

"No, but..." 

Jorg shrugged, hiding a smirk. "Well, no one's making you do this." He lowered his voice a little. "You could always go back to Father and tell him you're too delicate for cave life."

Asche huffed, narrowing his eyes. 

"Yeah, well, maybe I'd rather take my chances out here than sit around watching him moan and sweat." He shook his head but softened, his voice dropping. "Not that it matters. If we don't make anything today, there's no food tonight, and I doubt he'll last another week without it."

Jorg didn't respond immediately but instead tossed a handful of charms he'd found at the river into a small wooden bowl. Asche sighed, glancing over the sad display. They had few true valuables left, and today looked as slow as ever.

"Think we'll make anything?" Jorg asked the spark of excitement from his earlier transformation already fading.

"Maybe enough for bread," Asche said with a shrug, trying to sound casual, but his mind was already running through options. It had been harder lately, with fewer people needing charms and the higher authorities cracking down on the trade.

As they sat down at their stall, a thin, shabbily dressed man shuffled toward their stall, glancing furtively at the charms. "This one here," he murmured, holding up a small pendant, "this brings luck, right?"

Asche raised an eyebrow, sighing loudly. "That one brings small protections, not luck." He looked the man up and down, eyeing him carefully. "But I bet what you need is a solid defence charm. Don't waste your coin on something that won't work for you. You can go to Jaunder. He's the one sitting next to the vegetable stall," Asche pointed at the person in question."He normally has great defence charms."

The man blinked in surprise, hesitating. "Oh, well… I appreciate the honesty. I still want that charm though."

"Yeah, yeah," Asche waved him off dismissively, though Jorg caught the faint look of satisfaction in his eyes. "Just don't say we didn't warn you if things go wrong. I don't have time to deal with refund requests."

After the man walked off with the right charm, Jorg nudged Asche, grinning. "You're so harsh. You know he was grateful, right?"

Asche rolled his eyes, but a small, proud smirk tugged at his lips. "Whatever. I'm just doing the right thing. I'm not going to let that old man get hurt, just because I want money." He picked up another luck charm, tossing it in the air and catching it with a huff. "We might be poor, but at least we're not cheats."

Just then, a little girl skipped up to the stall, clutching a few coins in her hand. She was eyeing the charm Asche held. Asche observed her sceptically, crossing his arms. "What? You think we just give these away?"

The girl looked nervous, and Asche softened just a little. "Fine. If you want something, make it quick. I don't have all day." He held out a smaller, less precious but effective charm, muttering, "This one's a fair price. It won't turn your life around, but it's the best you'll get with that much."

The girl beamed, clutching the charm like treasure as she handed over her coins. Asche watched her skip away, pretending not to care. Jorg chuckled.

"You're all talk, you know that?"

"Yeah, well, you're all horn," Asche retorted, smirking as he tossed another charm at his brother. "Now get back to work." Jorg nodded and started to clean the raidon shells they also sold.

As the last light of day began to fade, Asche watched helplessly as the last of their unsold items were packed away. The marketplace was emptying, and the small pile of coins in his hand was barely enough to feed them for a day.

Jorg was looking at the stall with a slightly forlorn expression. "Did we sell enough?" he asked, the innocent hope in his voice making Asche's heartache. Jorg had no idea what was coming next.

"Yes," Asche stuttered, forcing the words past a tightening throat. He took a deep breath, trying to appear calm. He shoved the coins into his pocket, trying to hide the frustration and guilt gnawing at him. "You take the things home. I'll catch up."

"But…" Jorg hesitated, his brow furrowing.

"You go ahead. I'm just buying groceries." Jorg showed no sign of moving. "I'll get you a carrot toffee."

With a final, reluctant glance, Jorg began to trot down the path. Asche watched him go, a pang of guilt twisting in his gut.

Once Jorg was out of sight, Asche took a deep breath and turned towards downtown. His eyes narrowed as he approached the rest-houses, where Kael—the son of the local merchant—often hung out. Kael wasn't wealthy, but his family had enough coin to keep their heads above water—far more than Asche could ever hope for.

Asche stood at the threshold, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want to be here, but he had no other option. His hand trembled as he knocked twice, fighting the urge to turn and flee. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Kael with a look of mild surprise on his face.

"Asche?" Kael raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down with genuine surprise. "Well, Well, this is unexpected."

Asche clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "I need money, Kael."

Kael raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering briefly toward the door, where the muffled sounds of his friends' laughter echoed from the other room."Is that so?" Kael replied, his voice just a little too casual, just a little too amused. "And here I thought you might come by to talk this time. I didn't think you'd come begging for money, though."

Asche's throat tightened, but he refused to break eye contact. "I'm not begging. I'm asking for help."

Behind them, Kael's friends were still lost in their laughter, unaware of the tense interaction taking place just a few steps away.

"Last time you came here, it was for something more… innocent," Kael laughed as he led Asche up the stairs to the dark landing where they could talk more comfortably. Innocent? Asche thought. Kael and his bully friends had beaten him up here because he wouldn't give them the defence charm he always wore.

"I can help you, but I'm just wondering how far you're willing to go this time. You've done it before, haven't you?"

Asche's throat constricted. He knew exactly where this was headed, but he wouldn't back down. Not now. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Kael stepped closer, his voice lowering, almost soothing. "I know. That's what I like about you." He paused, eyes gleaming with something predatory.

Asche's skin crawled, but he didn't flinch. He couldn't afford to.

"I'll make it quick," Kael said, stepping back, his tone almost kind now as if he were doing Asche a favour. "We'll get it over with, and then you'll have what you need."

Asche nodded stiffly, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. 

As the muffled sounds of Kael's friends' laughter drifted from downstairs, Asche's stomach turned.

Kael glanced over his shoulder, smirking at the sound. "Let's go up," he said with a casual finality. The door clicked shut behind them, and Asche couldn't bring himself to look back. He couldn't.

The evening had already fallen quiet by the time Asche trudged back toward the cave, his footsteps heavier than they had been when he'd left. The usual sharpness in his movements had dulled. He entered the cave quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence. His eyes adjusted to the dim light inside, where Jorg was waiting, sitting cross-legged on a stone cushion, a fire in front of him. His face lit up as soon as he saw Asche.

Asche moved to sit down beside Jorg, dropping the small bag he'd been holding with a dull thud. He didn't meet Jorg's eyes. Instead, he stared at the stone floor, his fingers tracing the grooves in the rock as if trying to find something solid to hold on to. He stopped and reached into his bag.

"Here." Asche gave the carrot candy.

"Hey," Jorg said, "you're not getting away with this." His face instantly lit up as he made to unwrap it.

"You okay?" Jorg asked, after Asche didn't tell him for the hundredth time, that it would be the last time he was getting a carrot candy because they didn't have money. "You're acting weird." Asche was just too deep in his thoughts. 

Jorg watched him, his expression one of genuine concern, and then he reached the candy out to Asche. Asche looked at the candy for a long moment, the orange wrapper crinkling under Jorg's fingers. It should have been comforting, but right now, it felt like a small, cruel reminder of everything that had led him to this point. Still, he reached out and took it, his hand lingering just a little too long on Jorg's, a silent acknowledgement of the bond they shared. But Jorg didn't let the candy go. His grin faded slightly, and he leaned closer. "What's wrong, Asche? You're making me worried. Where did you go? What happened there to make you like this?" Asche finally looked at his brother. His face was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, a far cry from the usual brashness he carried around. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come. What could he say? How could he explain what he'd just done? Instead, he took a slow breath and broke the candy in half, wrapper still on, trying to force a smile. 

"Nah. Just tired. Don't worry about it." His voice was flat, distant. Have the rest." Jorg didn't press. Instead, he let the silence stretch, knowing better than to force an answer when Asche was like this. He took the halved carrot.

 "You know, if you want to talk, I'm here," he offered quietly. Asche didn't respond, his mind elsewhere. Jorg frowned, but eventually turned back to eating his candy, fiddling with the wrapper to distract himself. Then he started on their dinner, pulling groceries out of his bag, looking very serious as the fire Jorg lighted gave his beautifully structured face scary shadows.

The next day was no different. When they returned from the market, Asche's face more lined with exhaustion, his eyes dark and distant. He said nothing as he walked into the cave, and for the second time in a long while, Asche was quiet. 

Jorg curiously watched his brother slowly sink onto the stone chair, his hands clenching at the edge as if holding on to something. Jorg could sense it that Asche was going through a difficult time as he always did when he returned home late with their father back in the time when he was healthy. After a long moment, Jorg cleared his throat. "Are you still mad at me?"Asche's head snapped up, confusion flashing in his eyes.

"What? No… why would I be?"

"I don't know," Jorg said with a shrug, "you've been kinda… off lately. I figured maybe you were mad about something." Asche's expression softened just a little, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. "I'm not mad at you," he replied, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. 

"I'm just tired, that's all." 

Jorg waited, letting the silence stretch. "Look," he said finally, "whatever it is, you can talk to me. I'm not a kid anymore, Asche."

Asche let out a long sigh, rubbing his face in frustration. 

"Says the eight-year-old kid," he muttered. "I'm just worried about our finances." Jorg let a breath out, relieved it was just that. 

"Come on," Jorg said, the hint of mischief returning to his tone as he stood. Asche blinked, his brow furrowing.

"What?"

"A race. You owe me one, remember?" Jorg's grin grew wider. He had owed Jorg a race for over a month when he was rushing to get a doctor and Jorg was crying to go with him and not be left alone with their father who had just collapsed. At that time, Asche just promised it as a half-hearted attempt to stop Jorg's crying, but the little boy had remembered it till now. Asche shot him a half-hearted glare, but the hint of a smirk tugged at his lips.

"You're impossible."

"I know!" Jorg said with an exaggerated wink. "Come on, stop moping. Exercise always helps you." Asche snorted despite himself.

"You're annoying."

"I'm also right," Jorg said "Didn't you always run like this when you came home late with Father? You always came back looking sad, then then you would race with me and come back looking fine."

The small smirk wiped off Asche's face. Jorg was incredibly observant. 

"Race you to the Moven Rock! The Moven Rock was at the furthest east side of the moor."Or am I better than you at running?" Asche didn't respond right away, but the tension in his shoulders slowly started to loosen. He stood up, but this time with a slight bounce in his step.

"You're on, brat."

The wind bit at their faces as Jorg and Asche galloped side by side across the moor, both in their unicorn forms. 

Jorg's silver horn glinted in the low sunlight, and his blue mane streamed behind him like a ribbon of sky. Asche's fiery red mane—a deep crimson that matched the flickering embers of a flame—whipped in the wind as he raced, his horn gleaming like a sharp spike of ivory.

"I'm winning!" Jorg called, his laughter bright as he pushed himself faster, his silver hooves flashing. Asche smirked, his red mane glowing in the mist. 

"Don't be so cocky, Jorg. You've got nothing on me!"

There was a growl. Deep and menacing.

Both unicorns skidded to a halt, their hooves digging into the wet ground. Asche's ears twitched, the growl resonating again, much closer this time.

"Did you hear that?" Jorg asked, his playful grin faltering as he turned to look at Asche. Asche's expression had already shifted. His gaze was intense, his posture alert. "Sounds like my belly." He giggled.

"Get off your high horse, Jorg. Something's out there." Before Jorg could respond, the moor wolf emerged from the fog—a massive creature, twice the size of any wolf they had ever seen, its body covered in matted fur. Its yellow eyes gleamed through the mist and it had powerful muscles rippling beneath its pelt as it moved slowly toward them. Jorg's mouth went dry. 

"That thing's huge…" Jorg started.

Asche didn't waste a second. The was a large collection of rocks with a space in between them to hide behind them. "Transform! Inside that rock. Now!" he whispered, his voice sharp with urgency.

In an instant, the brothers shifted back into their human forms. The creature's glowing eyes locked onto Jorg first, and its stance shifted. It was hunting. Without thinking, Asche grabbed Jorg's wrist. "Run!" They dashed for cover in the rock as the wolf closed in. Asche's grabbed the defence charm he always had on him. For some reason, it removed the user's presence from predators and animals The moor wolf circled, sniffing the air, its growls vibrating through the earth. It could smell them, but it wasn't sure of their exact position. Asche's heart raced as he crouched behind the rock, holding his breath. The wolf was close, dangerously close. Jorg huddled close to Asche, eyes wide with fear. 

"What do we do now? It's huge… We can't outrun it!" Asche clenched his teeth.

"Shh!" he whispered harshly, pulling Jorg even closer. His fiery red hair fell over his shoulders, wild and untamed like a flame, as his eyes flicked to the approaching beast. The moor wolf's yellow eyes gleamed through the fog, its snarl growing louder as it padded toward them.

It was too close. Asche's heart raced. This wasn't a game. They couldn't afford to screw around. They had to get out of here, and fast. He took a deep breath. "I'm going to need you to stay calm," he muttered, his tone quiet but intense. Jorg, though trembling, nodded.

"I'm… I'm ready." Asche's mind worked quickly. The wolf was circling now, sniffing the air. They needed a plan, and they needed it fast. One wrong move, one misplaced step, and they were done.

"I'm going to explode the rocks and then we run," Asche said, his voice low and commanding. He turned to Jorg, offering a brief, grim look. Without warning, Asche's body shimmered and red fur grew over his hand. The nails on his hand had turned into miniature hoof-like objects and glowing intricate carvings were all over the hand. "Get on," Asche commanded, lowering himself so Jorg could climb onto his back. Jorg scrambled up quickly, his hands gripping Asche's shirt.

The explosion rang, throwing the wolf back and Asche surged to his feet transforming fully into a unicorn, his muscles coiling from the strain. His hooves dug into the wet earth with powerful strides. Behind them, the moor wolf let out a frustrated snarl, but it was too late. Asche was already moving faster than the creature could follow, his red mane trailing like a streak of fire across the moors. 

Unfortunately, Asche's bright red hair made him an easy target. Every time he looked behind, he could see the moor wolf gaining ground, its yellow eyes glowing through the fog, locked on him. Asche's breath came in sharp gasps, and the more he tried to race ahead, the more the moor seemed to stretch out before him. The wolf was fast, too fast, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it caught up. His red mane whipped behind him, visible for miles in the low light."I can't—" Asche's voice was sharp with frustration. His red mane was a beacon in the murky haze, a glaring signal to the beast.

"Keep going!" Jorg called back, but it wasn't enough. The moor was vast, and the wolf's speed was unnerving. The wolf was right behind him.

"Jorg, we can't outrun it like this," Asche panted. "I'm too visible!"

"I know! I can smell water! Let's go towards that forest on the right." Jorg shouted, glancing behind. It was a patch of trees, but Asche wasn't going to correct him now.

Asche didn't hesitate. Asche surged forward. The wolf's growls rang out, growing closer each time as they ran. Asche's heart pounded in his chest. He had to get away. Jorg's voice pierced through the frantic gallop. "We need to jump! There's a river up ahead!" Asche didn't need to be told twice. Just as they spotted the fast-rushing river, the creature's claws scraped his leg. Asche didn't flinch and sped up, desperate to get away. Then he swerved sharply and leapt, changing back to his human form, the river rushing beneath them. He held Jorg tightly, bracing for the impact. 

For a moment, everything was silent. Then, the moor wolf's frustrated growl faded into the distance. The water pushed them violently for a while before they surfaced, gasping for air. 

Goodness knows how many rocks and debris Asche hit whilst protecting Jorg before the water slowed down, Asche swimming them to safety. They collapsed on the riverbank, exhausted.

Jorg let out a shaky breath. "That was... too close."Asche's body trembled, his legs sore and bleeding.

"Tell me about it. Damn hair." Jorg turned to him, offering a soft smile. 

"It's not your fault. It's part of what makes you, well... you." Asche scowled, exhaustion still clouding his judgment. 

"It makes me a walking target."

"I know," Jorg said, the smile softening. "But we survived."

"Yeah," Asche muttered, rubbing his leg where the wolf's claws had scraped. "Next time, you take the red hair." Jorg snorted, shaking his head.

"I think I'll pass."

The next day, Asche couldn't sell his wares. Feverish and exhausted, he lay on the cold rock in their cave, beside their father, his body sore and aching from their escape. Asche had to share the only thick blanket they had with him.

"So, are you still feeling like a jerk?" Asche asked suddenly, not looking up. 

Jorg, wringing out a towel, smirked. "You're mean, Asche." 

Asche bit his lip, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling inside him. He felt a little better already. Jorg was the only well one and he was doing a good job taking care of Asche and their father. Just that Jorg didn't know how to cook. And even if he did, there wasn't any food in the cave anyway.

So as the evening stretched on, Asche's fever crept higher, and his exhaustion became more difficult to ignore. His body ached, but the gnawing hunger in his stomach was impossible to ignore. Jorg was still fast asleep, oblivious to Asche's discomfort. He forced himself to sit up, wincing as his muscles screamed in protest. He glanced over at Jorg, still sleeping soundly, his face relaxed in a rare moment of peace. A part of Asche wanted to let him rest, but another part of him knew that they needed food. They hadn't eaten since before their chaotic escape from the moor - almost one and a half days- and it was starting to take its toll. 

"Alright," Asche muttered under his breath, rubbing his sore head. "Guess it's up to me to fix this." Asche forced himself to his feet, swaying slightly, the dizziness making him clutch the wall for support. The thought of going to Kael again made his skin crawl, but there was no other choice.

The trip was a blur. His vision was blurry, his steps unsure, but the hunger and desperation pushed him forward. Kael was where Asche expected him to be — in his father's fabric shop — and he was the first to move to Asche when he saw him out of the corner of his eye. Kael moved the conversation to his house's back entrance — since the shop was attached to their house. But this time, it wasn't the usual banter. It felt like Kael was expecting him. Kael raised an eyebrow as he held the backdoor open for him, his smirk widening. He quickly closed the plain wooden door and turned to Asche.

"You came back? What's it gonna take this time?"

Asche's throat tightened, but his voice didn't shake. "I need money." Kael studied him, his eyes flicking over Asche's fevered state. His smirk softened into something more calculating.

"You look like hell, Asche. Can't even stand up straight. You really want to make this deal in your condition?"

Asche's chest tightened, his head spinning. Kael was right but he had no choice. The ache in his stomach felt like it was consuming him.

"Just give me the money." Kael leaned in a little, his voice dropping to a low murmur, only loud enough for Asche to hear. 

"I can't just hand it over. You know what I want."

"You know I'll do what I have to," Asche muttered, the words bitter in his mouth.

When it was over, Asche lay there, breathless and shaking, too weak to get up.

Kael stood up, a look of satisfaction on his face. He tossed a small pouch of coins on the ground beside Asche. 

Asch grabbed the pouch and stumbled out of the room without a word, every step feeling heavier than the last, but not without a silent promise to himself: This is the last time. The fever was getting worse and his body was dragging him down. But he had to get back to make dinner.

As he walked through the streets toward the market, his thoughts were clouded by the fever creeping up on him. The usual sounds of bustling vendors were quieter today, but that wasn't what caught his attention. It was the way people looked at him—eyes flicking away quickly, whispers trailing after him like shadows. It felt wrong. But he pushed it aside, focusing on getting what he needed.

First, he went to Mrs. Dawnshire's stall. The older woman greeted him warmly, but her smile was hesitant today. Her eyes darted to the other vendors as she handed him his usual vegetables. "Asche," she said softly, lowering her voice, "be careful, alright? I've heard things."

His chest tightened. "What things?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, though a knot had already formed in his stomach.

Mrs. Dawnshire paused, glancing at the other vendors before leaning in a bit closer. "It's not from me, but… you know how the butcher talks sometimes. They've been talking about you. About what happened with Kael. And they don't sound too kind about it."

Asche froze at the mention of Kael. "What... exactly have they been saying?" His voice cracked slightly, and he cursed himself for it.

"I'm sorry, Asche," Mrs. Dawnshire whispered, "but... people are talking. You should be careful."

He wanted to ask more, wanted to demand answers, but the words stuck in his throat. She handed him the vegetables quickly, her eyes darting nervously around, and before he could say another word, she moved on to the next customer, leaving him to stew in the confusion.

There were many butchers in the market. Which one?

Asche took the bags and left in a daze, barely noticing where he was walking next. He found himself at Mr. Turner's butcher stall, the man's rough voice cutting through his thoughts.

Asche shouldn't have bothered worrying about who the rumour-spreader was, because Mr. Turner made it obvious. "Well, look who's here," Mr. Turner said, a nasty smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

Asche's heart pounded. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent, but his voice wavered slightly.

Mr. Turner's eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, come on, Asche. You didn't think Kael's little adventures with you would stay between the two of you, did you?"

Asche's stomach churned. He could feel the blood draining from his face. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't play coy," Mr. Turner said, his voice dripping with malice. "Kael bragged to me. He's told me exactly how he 'helped' you out. You know, for a price. For a little bit of fun. A little bit of time spent... in his bed."

As Asche turned to leave, not wanting to deal with this, Mr. Turner's voice dropped to a low, mocking whisper.

"Wait a second, don't go just yet," Mr. Turner whispered. " I learnt you fainted— just collapsed right on him. Poor thing, you couldn't even last... But Kael? He didn't mind. Kept going like it was nothing." Mr. Turner was just mocking him.

But seriously, Asche was wondering when he fainted. He knew he was weak nowadays, but to faint? It was only today he - wait, does that mean Kael came here right after -

Asche's stomach churned, his body frozen in place as he realised what was going on. Mr. Turner leaned in closer, his grin widening. 

"Hell, Dan saw you leaving Kael's house this evening, looking a bit... dishevelled. You don't think people are putting two and two together?"

Asche couldn't breathe. The words hit him like a slap, and he was paralyzed by the shame and confusion that washed over him. He hadn't known people were watching him. How could he deny the rumours now?

Asche stood frozen, unable to respond. Mr. Turner's grin widened as he saw the effect his words had.

"You know," Mr. Turner continued, his tone casual, "I'm just glad I caught a whiff of this mess. Kael doesn't keep things quiet. He likes to brag. And now the whole market knows just how far you'll go for a bit of help. Might be time to move on from the 'charity' gig, Asche. Can't stay in that hole forever."

Asche forced himself to walk away, his legs feeling like they might give out beneath him. The air was too thick to breathe, the weight of the rumours suffocating. The whole market knew. They knew what Kael had said. They knew what had happened. And all Asche could think was that he couldn't undo it.

He didn't even know where to go anymore.

The walk back to the cave was a blur, but by the time he returned, he barely had the strength to move. He collapsed next to Jorg, who had been asleep in the corner of their cave. Asche's body burned, but he couldn't stop now. He forced himself to rise again, gathering what little strength he had left to cook.

The fire crackled softly as Asche prepared the food, his movements slow, deliberate, and tinged with exhaustion. The smell of the cooking food filled the small cave, but it didn't bring the comfort it used to. Asche's mind was too clouded by guilt, by the feeling of Kael's hands on him.

"Asche, where did you get this?" Jorg suddenly asked, his voice full of suspicion.

Asche froze for just a moment, then shrugged exaggeratedly, avoiding Jorg's eyes. "When did you wake up? You frightened me." Jorg blinked, not fazing, at him."Mrs. Dawnshire. She had some extra stuff she was giving away. Thought I'd take advantage."

Jorg narrowed his eyes. "Mrs. Dawnshire only sells vegetables. Where did you get meat and potatoes?"

Asche's jaw clenched, and he huffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, right, yeah. I magically conjured up meat and potatoes out of thin air. Got it from the market, okay? Happy?"

Jorg paused, clearly not convinced, but Asche was already looking away, acting as if the conversation wasn't worth his energy. "What's it to you anyway? Just eat and stop questioning everything I do."

Jorg looked at him for a long moment before taking a slow bite, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're lucky you're feeding me, or I'd be asking a lot more questions."

Asche grumbled under his breath, muttering, "Whatever, just eat already. I'm not your servant."

Jorg chuckled, but the tension remained between them. Asche was still fighting with himself—his pride, his guilt, and his need to protect Jorg from the truth.