As we finally crossed the gate to Thyrris, everything felt different about this world. Even the scent in the air was different from where we lived before. It smelled like fresh bread, butter, and dozens of other foods blending together. The city was so large it could only be described as overwhelming.
Me, my mother, and father got off the caravan right when we arrived. What sat in front of us were tall buildings—beautifully built ones. Not simple brick and concrete. No. They looked carved and perfected, like each one took years to finish. And there were hundreds of them.
Looking at the sky as my mother held me in her arms, it felt peaceful. The wind brushed softly against my hair, birds cut across the sky, and everything seemed so alive. I knew, deep down, this city was meant for me. It was a gut feeling. I liked it a thousand times more than our old home already.
There were people everywhere. Some just entering through the gate, others walking between shops and stands. On our left was a massive shopping district crowded with hundreds of people. Food stalls, clothes, weapons—everything you could imagine. It felt like a tourist trap. I knew it right away because my parents, without a second thought, walked straight toward it.
They looked happy. Maybe it was their first time here. Maybe memories. Or maybe they just wanted a fresh start.
As we walked through the market, I felt eyes on me. A lot of them. There were many kids my age, but I was used to people staring. It's because of my hair and eyes. White hair. White eyes. Naturally, that draws attention. People whisper, ask questions—"did you adopt him?" "he's so cute." Sometimes even stranger questions.
Looking around, everyone here looked different. Unique. Some carried swords or strange weapons, others carried nothing. Old people, young people, even teenagers—it was all so mixed.
Then we came to a stand. A sign read:
"Answering any questions — 5 copper per question."
My father decided to ask. He took out ten copper, standing beside my mother while the woman behind the stand smiled faintly at him. She looked young—maybe twenty. To me she seemed old, but in truth, I was probably a decade older than her inside.
Her purple hair was braided neatly, and her face looked calm and confident. I couldn't see her outfit because my mother was holding me too high. My father finally spoke, "Hello, miss. Do you know where I can find accommodation?"
The woman didn't answer right away. Just smiled and held out her hand. Waiting for the 5 copper. My father sighed, handed it over, and she finally spoke.
"There's plenty of accommodations here. Pricey ones, affordable ones…" She paused, her eyes scanning us slowly. I could tell she smelled the smoke on us—the burned scent from our ruined home. We hadn't bathed in a full day, and the caravan wasn't exactly comfortable.
She finally nodded and pointed across the street. "Follow that crosswalk for about half a mile. There's an inn called Thyrris Inn. Good rooms, bad rooms—depends on your coin. You can stay for a day, a month, a year. As long as you pay, no one bothers you."
As she finished speaking, she turned her head slightly. Her hair moved just enough for me to see her ears. Long. Pointed.
I froze.
An elf?
I didn't even know what to think. Were there really other races here? Was that normal? For a moment, it felt like I was back inside one of those fantasy books I used to read. My parents didn't even react—they looked completely unfazed. Maybe it really was common here.
Before I could think more, my father asked, "Ah, thank you. Also… do you have any recommendations for food around here?"
Just like before, she smiled again and held out her hand. Another 5 copper. My father grumbled under his breath but handed it over anyway.
"Yes," she said. "The city's big, so you'll find plenty of restaurants. But personally, the best spot is Basking Volo. It's a simple sandwich shop—cheap, but the best you'll taste. If you're not into sandwiches, there's a pizzeria right across from it."
My mother finally spoke, smiling warmly. "Thank you so much!"
The woman nodded, her braids swaying gently, and we started walking toward the inn.
As we approached the crosswalk, my father realized the elf woman hadn't been very direct with her directions. With so many buildings, alleys, and people moving in every direction, it was easy to get confused.
We kept walking, passing rows of shops that instantly caught my attention. Ones like Swordsmith—with real weapons displayed out front—and others for gear and magic tools. Each one pulled at me in a way I couldn't describe. Looking at everyone in the city carrying swords or staffs, I couldn't help but imagine myself like them. Older. Stronger. Confident. Magic flowing through me. It all sounded beautiful.
Still, I could tell not everyone here had magic. It was just a feeling—something subtle. Maybe the way they walked or carried themselves. I didn't see many who screamed "mage." That's when it hit me: maybe I was rare. And suddenly, all I could think about was how I'd start learning magic.
After walking for what felt like forever—though it was really just twenty minutes—we finally reached the inn. My parents were tired, and my father wasn't exactly great with directions. We'd gone down a few wrong streets before finally finding it.
The building matched the city's elegant style—clean, sleek, not overly flashy but still beautiful. Rows of tall windows lined the outer wall, and I could see the glow of lanterns from the inside. There must've been hundreds of people inside—two hundred at least—which was crazy to me, considering I'd barely seen that many people in total since being born into this world.
The inn itself was massive, larger than any of the shops around it, though that made sense—it was an inn, after all.
When we stepped inside, I was hit with a fresh scent. It reminded me of when you open a box of new shoes—clean, crisp, untouched. The interior was warm and welcoming. A clerk sat behind a desk to our left, and a grand staircase stretched up ahead, leading to what looked like four or five floors above.
The clerk was a scrawny teenage boy, probably sixteen, with black hair that hung slightly over his eyes. He wore a gray shirt, brown pants, and house slippers. He looked like he had just started this job.
"Hey, excuse me?" my father said.
The boy straightened immediately, looking up at my father with a startled expression. Nervous. Understandable, really. Most people reacted that way when faced with a six-foot-three man with a deep voice, broad shoulders, and a sword strapped to his back. Even if he was friendly, the intimidation was natural. Not to me, though. He was my father.
The boy stammered, "A-ah, hello."
My father's gaze swept around the room before asking, "Do you have any rooms available?"
"Yes," the boy replied quickly. "This inn can hold around seven hundred people. Right now, there's only about three hundred occupants."
My parents exchanged a relieved smile.
Then the boy continued, "Two adults, one child—so two beds, one bathroom. That'll be fifty copper per night."
I still didn't really understand the currency system, but fifty copper didn't sound bad. I'd heard that wealthy people spent twenty silver a day, so it seemed cheap enough.
My father handed him a down payment of two silver and fifty copper—five nights. The boy nodded, passed us our key, and pointed toward the stairs.
As we started up, I could see how exhausted my parents were. My mother especially—she'd been holding me for hours. I may not weigh much, but hours add up. My father gently took me from her arms.
"Thank you, honey," she said softly.
We climbed flight after flight until we reached the third floor. Room 209. My father slid the key into the door, turned the knob, and finally pushed it open.
As we finally walked into the room, it smelt clean. Not like cigarettes like every inn did back in my old world. The bathroom was on the right, right as you entered. Ahead, a desk sat against the wall on the left, and a small couch in the middle. Two beds stood across the room with a wide space between them. It was a large room—and for 50 copper a night, it seemed like a steal. Then again, I still had no clue how much copper was actually worth.
We all took showers, and after, my parents tucked me into bed while they sat on their own. The bed felt strange beneath me. It was the first time in this life I'd ever laid on something so soft. An actual adult bed, not a tiny one made for babies. The warmth sank into me fast, but even though I was exhausted, my mind wouldn't rest.
It wandered back to the awakening.
The light. The chaos. The destruction.
Was that normal? Did everyone's awakening destroy their home? My parents looked shocked—but maybe not because of the damage. Maybe it was because of my age. Maybe awakening that young wasn't very common.
I didn't know.
And with that thought, I finally drifted to sleep.