The Silence of Four Parts

It was a night like so many others. Silence rested over The Waystone Inn, and it was a silence of four parts.

The first part was the silence of light, the dark lonesome silence. If the lanterns could have spoken it would have uttered a shameful moan of disgust. The second part was the vast echoing silence, a silence that filled the inn with its warmth like a mother who would embrace her only child. A silence so deep that if anyone who dares disrupt it, beg for mercy until their deaths arrive. The third part was the part of emptiness. Bittersweet emptiness that would make even the most fearless man weep with sadness. And the most obvious part was the part of longing. A desire like no other. A hunger for something new.

A hunger for change.

The innkeeper called himself Kote. His hair was red as flame, his eyes as dark and distant as night. He was standing behind the bar, absentmindedly polishing each bottle one by one. The faint glow of the lanterns played themselves upon his arms to form the most intense dance as silver marks began to appear. Marks of courage and cowardice alike. The dark-haired man sitting at one of the tables was known as Bast. His icy eyes were watching the innkeeper profoundly, hoping for any signs of the man he knew so long ago.

It was the faint hasty sounds of footsteps that broke the silence. The intensive stare that Bast gave to Kote was broken as he sprung out of his chair and grabbed a broom leaning against the wall. He briskly started sweeping the floor. The sound of the footsteps grew louder. Kote finished polishing the bottle. He placed it on the counter and started polishing the bar.

Suddenly the Waystone Inn’s door burst open. A gust of wind came out of nowhere and a spark of lightning filled the air for a split second. A long enough second for Kote and Bast to identify a hooded figure in the entrance.

Alas, the Waystone Inn lay in silence no more...