I couldn't speak in the Oni language, surely if I did they would be scared and attack me without thinking. But hey, what the hell, if you can see perfectly well that I'm an oni! The ears, the horns, the skin... It's not like I can hide it too much.
"Greetings!" I blurted out with the best smile I could pretend, using a language that I assumed would be common in this area. My brain made the final decision before I could think about it too much.
They all stared at each other for a brief second, exchanging confused glances. And then, all those looks were fixed on me again.
Shit. They had disgusted me. So soon? Don't bother.
One of the men, stocky, with his hair pulled back in a low ponytail and his arms crossed, narrowed his eyes. I tensed up. He came a little closer... and suddenly...
Smiled?
"Hello, young man! He replied in a friendly and even slightly cheerful tone.
...What? Weren't they afraid? Weren't they disgusted when they saw me? What's going on here? Are they fans of oni? No, impossible. A sect? A village with strange customs? Bah.
"This... What's the matter with you?" I asked, trying to sound worried, although inside I didn't understand shit.
"We hit a huge stone on the road," the same man explained, pointing to the side of the road. My wife moved her from the step to avoid more tragedies.
Beside the wagon, a stout woman of serious character nodded silently. He looked at me. She didn't seem scared, far from it. If anything, somewhat curious.
"And you, what brings you here, young man?"
"Twink"... It reminded me of the times my father tried to sound nice when he was actually judging me inside. But this guy looked authentic. There was no hatred in his voice. Nor fear.
Behind me, Nimue stood silent, her hood down and her arms folded. He had already come out of hiding, but he didn't even open his mouth as a joke.
"I'm... "Traveling," I replied cautiously. To the east. I'm just passing through.
The man raised an eyebrow and laughed in a friendly manner.
"To the east, you say?" The man repeated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Well, if you follow this path you will reach Tirgaleth.
"Tirgaleth?" I asked unintentionally, letting the name slip without realizing it. I'm not from around here.
The man nodded with a half-smile.
"Tirgaleth is the great city, better known as the great city of marble and glass," he said proudly.
Of course, now it all made sense. Those neat marble statues, those reliefs and crystal figures that shone in the sunlight... It was no coincidence that this was his fame.
"Oh, that city—" Turns out that's my destiny. I said, trying to sound confident.
"Really?" The man asked with a strange twinkle in his eye. Go... The destination is the most curious. We are also going there. He added. If the cart were not in this state, I would not hesitate to take you to Tirgaleth.
"Oh, that city—" Turns out that's my destiny. I said with a forced smile, not quite knowing what to do next.
"Really?" The man asked with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Go... Fate is curious, young man. We are also going to Tirgaleth. He gestured toward the wagon. If it weren't for this damn broken wheel, we'd be happy to take you.
I looked at the damage. One of the wheels was completely torn to shreds, splinters everywhere, useless. I walked over with my hands on my waist, pretending I knew what I was looking at. But I had no idea how to fix a wheel. The only thing I knew how to repair was my dignity... and that with difficulty.
Then, a glimmer of hope came to me: the Terra magic of Nimue.
"Wait a minute. I think... I've got an idea. I announced, taking a step back.
The humans looked at me with raised eyebrows, confused. One of them even muttered something under his breath, probably thinking he was going to pull a magic tool out of my butt. Not so far from what I really planned to do.
I turned on my heels and headed for the bush from which Nimue had not yet emerged.
As soon as I set foot inside, a burning twinge pierced my chest. I brought my hand to my torso instinctively, feeling the rune reactivate. A yellow light, intense but thin, filtered through the edges of my shirt as if someone had lit a candle under the skin.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, pursing my lips to keep from screaming.
The feeling was strange... not painful, but uncomfortable. As if the air around me was getting thicker. I had a hard time breathing, my heart was beating like a drum. I felt that something inside me was changing, readjusting. As if a switch had been activated inside me without my permission.
"But you're fine with the jar or what!?" Nimue exclaimed when she saw me. He looked at me as if he had just been resurrected.
"What happens now?" I let go, still with my hand on my chest.
"I have seen you!" He said, taking a step back, a mixture of disgust and surprise on his face. When you left here with those humans, you didn't have a single trace of Oni! You looked like a very ordinary human!
I was stunned.
"What...?" What do you mean human? What are you saying?
"Yes, yes, as you hear it. Light skin, no horns, no marks. Come on, if I didn't know you I thought you were one of them. It was embarrassing, seriously. I didn't know whether to give you a slap or cry.
"But I haven't noticed anything!" I answered, astonished. I looked at my hands, my arms, the rune that was still shining slightly. I... I thought they saw me as I am. Like an Oni.
"Well, no. It seems that that strange thing on your chest," he pointed to the rune with his chin, "transforms you when you're with them. Kind of camouflage or something.
"So they don't kill me?" I asked quietly, still trying to take it in.
"It looks like it. According to the stories, there are groups of humans who are dedicated to hunting Onis. Maybe that rune is a type of protection. Maybe your parents or someone put it there to keep you safe.
There was silence for an instant. I felt a knot in my stomach.
"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter right now. I said I have an idea. Can you help me?
"What do you need?"
"A new wheel for that cart." I thought that since you wield earth magic, you could create one out of rock.
Nimue raised an eyebrow, with that expression of hers of "you owe me one."
"And now you do need me, huh?" he said, but not in a bad tone.
"Please," I added, without sarcasm this time.
She sighed, stretched out her arm to the ground, and murmured her spell:
"Terra... Conjure, shape, and harden: Solid Rock!
The ground shook slightly under our feet. A block of stone began to emerge from the ground, and little by little, it took shape. Curving, polishing, until it becomes a perfectly carved, resistant and symmetrical stone wheel.
"Here. But I warn you: if they break it, I won't do another one," he growled, holding out the wheel to me.
"Thank you, really.
When I came out again among the leaves, I felt the burning return. The rune vibrated one last time... And everything changed again. The skin, the features, the shape. And this time I did notice. As if a part of me was hidden... to survive.
Now there was no longer any doubt. Something inside me was far from normal.
I lifted the stone wheel as if it were made of plastic. We oni had a strength far above human strength, so for me it was like lifting a simple box of fruit.
"A stone wheel?" Wow... How did you do it? The woman asked, looking at her with eyes like saucers, really amazed.
"Terra Magic." A simple spell, really," I replied, puffing out my chest a little proudly.
From the bushes, I felt Nimue's sharp gaze piercing the back of my neck. Yes, I had lied... but technically it was true that it came from her, wasn't it? Only... Lent.
"Come on, let's put her in her place to continue the journey," said the large man, with renewed energy.
I left the wheel next to the cart, and he took care of the rest. In just a few minutes he had dismantled the broken remains and placed the new piece of stone as if he had been repairing cars all his life. A real handyman, why deny it.
"Done," he announced, patting his hands. Now we can continue.
A satisfied smile was drawn on my face. The plan had gone perfectly, without complications or suspicions. And besides, we had managed to get transport to Tirgaleth without having to drag our feet there.
Of course... that is, if Nimue didn't rip my head off first.
"Of course, we'd better leave at once if we don't want to be late for the delivery, darling," said the woman as she got into the carriage with the ease of someone who has been traveling in it for half a lifetime.
The man followed, settling next to her in the back of the front seat. It was obvious that there was no room up there for me, which was good for me. Without a peep, I walked to the back of the car and jumped in, trying not to make too much noise.
The white tarpaulin that covered the trailer fell like a curtain over the sides, leaving the interior in darkness. Perfect. If anything was useful right now, it was that improvised shadow. I could see sacks, boxes, and a small tower of folded blankets in the background. With a couple of movements I placed some of them strategically, leaving a gap wide enough for Nimue to get in and not be seen.
I peeked discreetly out of the back, through a small opening in the canvas. There it was: Nimue's face sticking out of the bushes, her expression somewhere between defiant and anxious, staring at me as if waiting for the signal for a coordinated attack.
I made a slight sign with my hand, indicating that it was time.
She frowned, clearly annoyed, but she knew there was no alternative. If he didn't hurry, they would leave us behind.
And then, with the speed and agility of a wild cat, she ran crouched out of the bushes, crossing the distance between the forest and the cart in just a few seconds.
I stepped aside just in time to let him in. She slipped under the canvas like a professional thief, and huddled between the blankets, breathing heavily through her nose, holding back her gasp.
"What was that noise?" The man asked, turning his head back slightly, frowning as if trying to find the answer by himself in the air.
My heart skipped a beat. I looked at Nimue, who was completely motionless under the blankets, like a cranky stone statue. The sound had been his: a slight stumble against a wooden box as he got into the hiding place.
"M-I sat down... too strong. "I'm sorry," I said quickly, trying to sound natural.
The man looked at me for a few seconds in silence, then nodded slowly, as if he was trying to convince himself that there was nothing wrong. Finally he shrugged his shoulders and looked straight ahead.
"Don't worry, boy, it just caught me by surprise. This car creaks more than my back in the mornings.
The woman let out a muffled chuckle, and the carriage continued on its way, moving along the path with the characteristic rattle of wooden wheels on rammed earth.
Under the blanket, Nimue nudged me gently in the ribs.
"Toru senta'ka zen go, zuta'ka," Nimue whispered from under the blanket, her tone heavy with irritation.
I turned slightly, frowning.
"What?" I murmured, trying to decipher what I had just said.
Silence. Or at least it seemed so. Under the blanket, there was a slight snort, and then another sentence, completely unintelligible.
"Nimue, I don't understand shit," I whispered softly, almost fearing that the people in the car would hear us.
"Of course not, idiot ," she said, in Oni, clearly frustrated. You're not in your Oni form. How are you going to understand me like that...
But I didn't understand those words either. They were like a strange, alien language, as distant as if it were an ancestral language. They didn't sound familiar, I had no point of reference. I could only catch the tone of her voice: annoyed, tight, a little scared, perhaps.
"Why are you talking to me like that...?" Why don't you use our common language?
Nothing. More whispers in a language I didn't recognize. It was as if an invisible barrier had been erected between us.
I put a hand to my chest, just where I felt the slight, constant burning. It was like a reminder: I'm not Oni anymore. At least, not now.
I pulled away a little and stopped insisting. If I couldn't communicate with her until I was myself again... then he would have to wait. Or endure their grunts and shoves in silence.
From under the blanket, Nimue mumbled something else that I obviously didn't understand either. But because of the tone... They were not nice words.
"Great," I thought. "An entire journey with an angry witch under a blanket, not understanding a word of what she says."
The rattle of the wheels was again settled into a comfortable rhythm as the cart resumed its course. With every meter, the landscape seemed to become more fertile, more lived-in, as if we were leaving a hidden world to approach the heart of civilization.
"Well, since we share a trip, the least is to introduce ourselves, right?" said the large man from the front seat, without taking his eyes off the road. My name is Dorian, and this one here is my dear wife, Lyana.
"Delighted, kid," she added from her spot, turning just to give me a gentle smile over my shoulder.
"A pleasure," I replied with a slight bow of my head, settling under the blanket without moving Nimue too much, who remained silent, curled up beside me.
"We are merchants," Dorian continued. We sell fabrics, spices, glass objects... In other words, everything we can get at a good price and resell at a profit. Tirgaleth is our base, but we move around a lot.
"And you travel alone?" I asked, feigning curiosity.
"Often, yes. Although when we go further we hire an escort. In this area, there are usually no problems. Except for a broken wheel..." he joked, letting out a hoarse laugh.
"I see," I said, forcing a smile, as I scratched my neck.
For a few minutes, silence set in, accompanied only by the creaking of the wood, the whisper of the wind and the distant song of some early birds. It was then that, when I leaned slightly between the fabrics, I saw him.
In the distance, like a mirage transformed into reality, colossal walls of refined stone rose, whitish and bright in the morning sun. They were so tall that they seemed to compete with the mountains. Each tower, each battlement, was decorated with carved details that not even distance could conceal.
"That's Tirgaleth over there," Lyana said with some pride. The great city of marble and glass.
At his feet, vast fields of crops stretched as far as the eye could see. Peasants worked calmly, ploughing, gathering, guiding beasts of burden. Some looked at us as we passed, raising a hand to greet us cordially. The air smelled of damp earth and freshly cut wheat.
"Hey, young man! Dorian interrupted, turning his head slightly. You haven't told us your name yet.
I was silent for a moment. Nakhúr, in this environment, sounded like a roar. Too weird. Too much... Oni.
"Zaydir," I finally blurted out, trying to sound natural.
"Zaydir?" Dorian repeated, laughing nostalgically. That's just our son's name!
"Really?" I replied with feigned joy. I don't think it sounded very convincing, but Dorian didn't seem to notice.
"Of course, of course. He is now studying in the northern district. "An awakened mind, that boy," she added with a mixture of pride and sadness. We barely see him, but we know he's fine.
"What a coincidence," I said, pursing my lips so that a nervous laugh would not escape me. Nimue kicked me lightly under the blanket, probably mocking.
I settled in better, taking a deep breath as I watched the city get bigger and bigger.
The wheels of the cart began to sound different: they no longer creaked on the ground, but beat with a firm rhythm on polished cobblestones. We were already crossing the entrance area of the city.
On either side, tall watchtowers escorted the great wall of white marble. The gates, wide open, were large enough to let two wagons pass together. And just when I thought we had been lucky, I heard a loud one:
"Stop there!"
The wagon came to a screeching halt, so suddenly that my body overcame to one side, falling squarely on top of Nimue.
"He's going to kill me, I know," I thought as soon as I felt his body stiff under mine.
He didn't moan in pain, or kick me, or even a growl. Nothing. He was completely motionless, like a stone. She was great at going unnoticed.
As I peeked through a gap between the blankets, I could see how two guards approached the cart with a firm step, hurriedly charged... and moral superiority. They were erect, as if the ground opened so as not to rub against their boots, and their mere presence seemed to command silence. But what caught my attention the most—what literally left me gawking for a few seconds—were their suits.
Their uniforms were not mere functional armor. They were works of art designed to be both protection and a statement of power. They were made of a mixture of tanned black leather and metal scale plates that reflected light as if each were forged from crystal powder. The chest was covered by a breastplate of a deep blue, almost obsidian, with the emblem of Tirgaleth engraved in silver: a falcon with its wings spread over a marble tower.
The shoulder pads were exaggerated, almost ceremonial, and had spiral engravings that glowed faintly with a magical glow. On the edges fell short layers of thick fabric, embroidered with golden threads that formed geometric patterns impossible to follow with the naked eye. Details that screamed "status", as if each stitch was made by arcane hands.
The gauntlets and boots were topped with filigree that imitated branches of glass, as if their limbs had sprouted from the very marble of the walls. And they wore not full helmets, but burnished metal headbands that covered their foreheads, a symbol of rank for those who no longer need to hide their faces. In the center of each diadem shone a hexagonal gem: one red and one violet.
The most shocking thing was that, despite the weight they had to carry, they walked as if they were floating. No noise. No dust. As if the ground itself recognized them.
Since I was little, in my world, I was always a fan of military suits. Although they all ended up being the same, gray, boring, mass-produced. These, on the other hand, were a declaration of principles. They didn't just say "I'm a soldier," they said "I'm the law, I'm the marble that holds this city together."
And for a second... I wanted one.
Both guards stopped, one on each side of the wagon, their eyes fixed and implacable.
Lyana and Dorian took tiny papers from their pockets, so small they looked almost like a magic trick, and handed them to him. The guards took them with firm hands, and instantly their pupils turned yellow, glowing with an intense light that illuminated the documents as if they were living screens. Their gazes were so penetrating that they seemed to analyze every fiber of the paper.
"Everything in order," they said, returning the documents with almost mechanical precision.
"As you know, we need to inspect the cargo before we let them in," one of the guards said, his voice cold.
"Of course! No problem," Dorian replied, without losing his calm.
Then, with a synchronized gesture, they formed the silhouette of a spear in their hands. The figure slowly solidified, as if they were nanorobots being assembled, until finally the spear materialized, shiny and sharp, with a blade that seemed polished with glass. But instantly, my stomach shrank as I realized what they were going to do next: lift the tarp where Nimue lay hidden, barely breathing.
When I reached the back of the wagon, the guards noticed my presence. The spears went up in unison, cutting through the hot and heavy air, as if the wind itself obeyed them and shouted, "Stop, in the name of the law!"
Instinctively, I raised both hands very high, without even thinking about it.
"And who are you?" asked the guard on the right side of the car, his voice heavy with distrust.
Dorian and Lyana turned quickly, visibly upset, as if suddenly remembering that they had omitted a crucial detail: carrying a young man hiding in the back.
"Oh, huh... "Excuse my mistake, Agent," Dorian stammered, stepping out of the car cautiously and approaching the guards.
But one of them, without wasting a second, raised his spear with a threatening gesture, piercing it almost into Dorian's nose.
"Not one step further!" he exclaimed rudely. Stay where you are.
Dorian stopped instantly, his eyes searching for a way out, but not moving from the spot.
"Identify yourself," said the guard, addressing me again in a dry voice, sharp as the tip of his spear.
I nodded awkwardly, fear already well installed in the center of my chest. Their shouts, their presence, their authority... caused all my pride and emotional stability to crumble like a sand tower.
A drop of sweat began to slowly descend my forehead, sliding down my cheek to my chin. Every pore he touched seemed to burn. Not because of heat, but because of the pressure of knowing that a single mistake would cost me too much.
"Y-I... "I-eh..." I tried to answer, but my voice was a thick mass, trapped in my throat. The words were stuck, wedged between panic and helplessness. When he finally managed to articulate a stutter, it would vanish instantly, as if the air itself were repelling him.
The guard frowned. His spear went down a few inches, but it was not a sign of relaxation, but of preparation.
"Don't you know who you are or are you hiding something?" He snapped, cocking his head suspiciously.
I noticed how the canvas next to me moved slightly. Nimue, still hidden beneath her, probably tensed just as I did. A single misplaced look, a single centimeter more of displaced fabric and we would be in real trouble.
But I couldn't draw a blank.
"My name is..." Zaydir," I blurted out at last, swallowing like a stone. "I was traveling... alone. And they offered me help to get to Tirgaleth.
The guard's eyes narrowed. The other approached from the opposite side of the cart, turning me around visually with the precision of a bird of prey.
"Zaydir?" repeated the first, as if savoring the name. Then he looked back at Dorian and Lyana. Do you know him well?
Dorian swallowed. You could tell it wasn't the first time he'd dealt with the guard... but neither is it the simplest.
"We only picked him up on the way. He seemed lost. He does not carry weapons or cargo with him.
There was a brief silence. One that weighed more than the suffocating air of that noon.
Finally, the guard lowered the spear a little more... but he did not let go.
"Very good. But it doesn't end there. Let's check the load.
My muscles froze. I felt Nimue, inches away from me, tensing even tighter under the blanket.
One of the guards got into the carriage with a firm step. His metal boots echoed against the wood with a dry, almost ceremonial tap. He crouched slowly, his spear still in his other hand, pointing toward an undefined point. His other hand, wrapped in a black glove decorated with gold lines, stretched calmly and confidently until it reached the canvas.
The air tightened so much that it hurt to inhale. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I swallowed hard. I couldn't do anything. If I moved, I would be suspicious. If he spoke, worse. All that remained was to wait.
His fingers closed tightly on the fabric. He slowly pulled upwards. First a fold. Then another. Finally, the blanket rose high enough to reveal a portion of what was hidden underneath.
One leg.
Nimue's leg.
My blood froze. She didn't move an inch. He was not even breathing. It was as if it had turned to stone.
All seemed lost.
So, without thinking too much, I let myself fall to the ground with a dull thud, as if I had fainted. I closed my eyes tightly, feigning the most believable collapse I could. Fear helped me make it real.
"Hey! cried the guard of the car, confused. The kid...
But then another voice burst in from the side of the road, firm and authoritative:
"Captain Zet!
The guard who was lifting the tarp stopped suddenly.
"What's going on?" he asked, still without taking his hand off the cloth.
"A problem at the west entrance." A group of outsiders are refusing to show identification. They need them urgently.
Captain Zet clicked his tongue in annoyance. He looked at the merchants, at me, unconscious on the ground, and finally at the half-lifted tarpaulin. He hesitated for only a second.
"The fate of these bastards," he muttered under his breath.
Then he pulled the tarp down, covering Nimue again, and jumped out of the cart nimbly. He nodded to the other guard.
"This car is clean," he announced loudly, loud enough for others to hear. Pass.
The guard who had been left on the ground looked at Dorian and returned a brief gesture, without smiling.
"You can come in." Not the demoréis.
They got back on the horse and trotted away.
Once the cart moved forward again, I couldn't help but open one eye cautiously. Nimue was still under the canvas, motionless, like a stealthy shadow. Only when the sound of the hooves faded did I breathe a sigh of relief.
"I think—" I've discovered a hidden talent for the theater," I whispered, still lying down.
We had passed the first barrier.
But there was still the whole city ahead.