Shadow of the First Sin

Opening the green door, she turned around and offered me a soft smile.

"Well, here we are! My humble abode! Oh, I hope you're not allergic to cats, are you?" she inquired.

"N-no, not that I know of," I replied, taken aback by her sudden question.

"That's a relief! I'm sure you and Mister Chunk will get along just fine!"

Mister Chunk? What an odd name for a dignified creature like a cat. Though. I'd never had the chance to see one in person, I knew they were akin to fierce beasts of the mortal realms, such as lions and tigers. A name like Razorclaw or Steelpaw would be more appropriate.

As the door swung open, a narrow hallway greeted us, leading to the living room. There, a peculiar man with a mustache, dressed in a vibrant suit and a green beret lounged at the room's edge, one leg propped up on the table as he strummed his lute, filling the space with anguish and heartbreak.

"Oh, Isabel, you heartless wench,

You left me here alone on this bench.

You ran away with a blacksmith, oh what a joke!

Now I'm left here singing, heartbroken and broke!"

He plucked the strings with such intensity that it seemed a wonder the lute endured. Observing him, I couldn't quite discern his identity. Perhaps one of those clowns I'd heard of, or could he be a bard? Yet, bards were often regarded as the heralds of the goddess of fine arts, and there was nothing fine about his performance. While I pondered his role, Seraphina's voice pierced through the room, halting the man mid-performance.

"How many times have I told you not to put your dirty boots on the table? And stop with those vulgar lyrics; there are children in this house!" Seraphina scolded.

"Oh, Seraphina, won't you calm down? I'm in a stage of grieving, and that vein on your forehead, dear, it's not a good look," he teased, his mischievous gaze shifting to me. "And who is this brat? Don't tell me you've taken in another orphan. Feeding all these mouths isn't cheap, you know. What are we going to eat?"

"Shut up, you don't live here," she retorted quickly.

"Well, technically I don't... But I do show up here with each sunrise and leave with each nightfall. You could say I practically live here, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, because you don't have anywhere else to go. Unless you consider that barn on the outskirts of the village your home?" Seraphina countered.

"W-what? How do you know about the barn? You see, that's not a permanent solution; I'm just staying there until I find a better place," he awkwardly explained.

"You've been in Emberfield for over 10 years now. How much longer do you plan to search?" Seraphina fired back.

"Ahem! So, what's your name, kid? I'm Silas, the greatest bard Emberfield has ever seen!" he introduced himself, to which Seraphina added, "And the only one."

As their argument carried on, my attention shifted to a creature draped in black fur with striking golden eyes. It was small and chubby, with stubby legs and a grumpy expression. Could this creature truly be a cat? Unfamiliar with the mortal world and its many creatures, I never would have guessed that this tiny bundle of fur was kin to the mighty lions and tigers. Drawing closer to inspect the creature, it hissed and bared its minuscule fangs at me, swiftly scratching across my face.

"No! Mister Chunk, stop that! Bad kitty!" Seraphina scolded, swiftly gathering the ferocious creature into her arms and retreating to the next room, where she continued to coddle him in a high-pitched voice. "Such a bad kitty, yes you are!"

"It's your fault, really. You should know better than to invade a cat's personal space. They're evil little rodents," Silas remarked, smiling as if mocking me.

There was something about that man that rubbed me the wrong way. Observing the house, I noticed a timid young girl, perhaps around ten years old, peeking out from behind the hallway entrance. She was either the woman's daughter or some poor kid she kidnapped.

"Come, Iris, don't hide back there. Come and greet our guest," Seraphina called to the little girl, entering the room with a bottle and a clean cloth.

"Hello. Goodbye!" the child swiftly bowed her head and dashed into the other room.

"I'm sorry about that. She's not very good with strangers," Seraphina apologized, pouring liquid from the bottle onto the cloth and tending to my scratch.

Upon closer inspection, she was truly beautiful, almost as if she were not of this world. Her locks of hair were loosely woven into a long braid, and her eyes glistened like a den full of gold, reminiscent of my now-lost wings.

"There, it's just a tiny scratch! It won't leave a scar," she nervously laughed. "Oh, I almost forgot! You must be hungry. Come!"

"Finally! I've been starving!" the bard exclaimed, throwing the lute over his head and making his way to the table.

As we approached the table, Seraphina kicked Silas as hard as she could, prompting him to reach the table faster than he had hoped. It was a small round wooden table with four chairs surrounding it. I chose the one closest to the window, avoiding the bard's intense gaze.

"So, brat, I mean, kid. You still haven't told me your name. It's only polite when someone introduces themselves to you," Silas said, clenching his spoon and nervously tapping his leg, causing the whole table to shake.

"It's Valerian," I answered without much thought.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering plates echoed through the room. Turning around, I was met with Seraphina's shocked expression, her eyes wide open and hands covering her lips. Her golden eyes gleamed brighter than before as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. My chest tightened at the sight of her, for I knew her next words would be the ones I had been expecting the most.

"Val? Son, is that really you?"

„Yes.”