The Multiverse Hunter

"Well, Obidos is a simple town with a simple beginning," Tess began again, her voice steady but her eyes betraying the weight she'd carried for so many years. She glanced up at Ali—at those cold, impossibly deep eyes that seemed to pin her story in place so it could never run or hide again.

"It turned from a small farming village into a mining town generations ago, when the viscount granted House Cinder the right to mine the mountain. Back then, the Maler family ran everything—good people. They were handed responsibility of the mines and the only merchant family in town. They made sure every miner was paid fair, and every family was fed. A son could follow his father into the mountain and know he'd come home again." Tess's voice softened. The memory seemed to warm her for an instant—then her face darkened.

"But the moment outsiders smelled coin, they started to trickle in—merchants, moneylenders, leeches. They saw how rich the mountain was and wanted it all for themselves. Still, House Maler fought back. They kept the outsiders at bay for years. Things only changed when Edwin Cinder and Thomas Nolan fought that stupid duel."

Ali didn't move, didn't even blink. But she could feel his attention tightening around her like iron.

"Lord Cinder needed money," Tess went on, her eyes drifting to the empty cup in front of him.

"Edwin lost. He was supposed to marry into the Malers—his marriage would have united the mine and the castle forever. But he lost, and that ruined everything. Lord Cinder asked the Malers to pay for Edwin's fees at the magic academy anyway—promised them it would keep their families safe. They said no." She gave a sad, brittle laugh. "They were right to say no. The merchants pounced."

"They convinced House Cinder to transfer the mining to them from House Maler?" Ali guessed.

Tess nodded once, sharp. "They made it look like a loan for the academy, but it was a death sentence. Lord Cinder signed away everything for that ungrateful son of his. The merchants bought the guards, killed the Malers in a single night—torches and knives and hush money. By dawn, only one or two survived. The rest?" She shrugged, bitterness flashing in her eyes.

"Gone. Since then, the mountain's eaten our men alive while the merchants grow fat. They work with IronPeak—rig every sale, take every ore worth selling. The miners get what's left—rocks, or the grave."

Ali leaned back slowly, his knuckles tapping the table once. His cold stare flicked toward the window where faint shouts still echoed through the cobbled street—merchants scrambling to close their stalls, to hide their ledgers, to whisper to each other in the shadows.

"And you know every name," he said. It wasn't a question—it was a quiet fact, heavy enough to make Tess flinch.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice caught in her throat when he leaned in closer. His face was so close now she could see the faint lines near his temple, the way the candlelight danced in the depths of his black eyes. Her heartbeat thudded traitorously in her ears.

"They meet here," she said, her words tumbling out now that the dam had cracked. "Whenever they plan something they use this inn—because I'm weak. They know I won't talk. I can't—" She hesitated, shame flashing across her pretty face. "One of them gave me a loan years ago—after my husband died. I had no choice if I wanted to keep this place. He's been… wanting me ever since. So they talk freely, thinking I'm already owned."

Ali's face was unreadable. Tess forced herself to look away from those eyes—only to find herself staring at his chest instead, the way his black shirt hugged the hard lines beneath. Heat flared in her cheeks and she cursed herself silently for even noticing.

"So they trust you'll keep their secrets because they own you," Ali said, his tone so flat it sent a shiver down her spine. "And they poison lords, ruin families, and grind miners into the dirt for copper while you're forced to watch. All because they think you can't open your mouth."

Tess bit her lip. She felt so small under his eyes. For a moment she thought he'd berate her, call her a coward. Instead, he just watched her—then reached up and pushed the single gold coin across the table.

"Give me your best room," he said. The simple order struck her harder than she'd expected. She blinked, mouth parting.

"And keep the coin."

Tess stared at it. A gold coin. Her hand hovered over it, trembling. She looked back at him—this strange, terrifying man who sat like a storm in her quiet little inn.

She swallowed. "Why?"

Ali stood, looming over her now, the faintest edge of something like pity—no, understanding—passing through his black eyes. "Because you spoke the truth," he said simply. "And now you don't owe them anything."

"You can have the first room to the right on the second floor—it's my best and biggest room here," Tess said, her lips curling into a smile that was lined with gratefulness.

She leaned over the table, her blouse dipping just enough to reveal the swell of her chest. She knew exactly what she was doing—giving him a view she'd never offered any other guest. Ali didn't miss it. He tilted his head, eyes flicking down for a heartbeat, then smirked—a wolf's smirk, wordless but sharp.

Without a word, he stood and turned toward the stairs, the coin left glinting under the flickering lanterns. Tess's eyes lingered on his back—broad, solid, draped in that tight black shirt—and for a heartbeat she felt deep loneliness and long time without a man's touch.

Upstairs, Ali stepped into the spacious room. It was simple—aged wood floors, a fresh sheet on a king-sized bed that seemed like a luxury in a place like Obidos. He peeled off his shirt, dropping it on a nearby chair, and sat on the edge of the bed. For a moment he looked at the moonlight spilling through the window—then let himself drop back onto the mattress, arms spread out.

Sleep never came.

An hour passed. His eyes snapped open to the same cracked ceiling above him. 'I can't fucking sleep', Ali thought, exhaling through his nose. His body was still. His mind? A storm like always, overthinking was always a problem of his, especially after some of the messages Jacob sent him from the capital.

Below, he heard them—footsteps other than Tess's careful shuffle behind the bar.

"What took you so long? I thought something happened to you…" Tess's hushed voice drifted up through the old floorboards.

"I'm sorry, Tess, I—I took the long way. I had to make sure no one saw me. If he finds out I'm here—" The girl's voice was soft and frayed, like an old ribbon unraveling.

"Oh, I know, dear. I know exactly what you're dealing with…" Tess's voice cracked with sympathy that had no place in this world of sharp teeth. "Everything you need is upstairs. But listen—don't go near the first room to the right. There's a guest in there."

Ali's eyes narrowed as he listened to the worn boots step lightly up the staircase. The girl's footsteps were almost too gentle—like she'd learned how to exist without taking up space.

A moment later, he heard her. The faint scrape of wood as a mop dragged across the hallway floor. Then, softly—sweetly—her voice rose in a tune, untrained but haunting.

"Look under the moonlight, dear… The soft light reminds me… reminds me…"

Ali laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as her voice drifted through the cracks in the old inn. For half an hour, she sang—moving from room to room. Her voice—an innocent thing—wove through the stale timber walls like a balm. He almost closed his eyes.

Then—

BANG

The doors downstairs slammed open so violently the hinges squealed in protest.

"TESS!" a voice thundered—deep, ugly, the same brute who sat like a kingpin in that filthy backroom of merchants. Heavy boots stomped over the creaking floorboards.

"Where is she? I know she's fucking here!! Oh you Fucked up you Bitch!!" the brute snarled. The men with him—thugs in dirty tunics—shuffled behind, eager dogs on a chain.

"Who's here, you fool?" Tess shot back, her voice trembling with rage and something else—fear. "Get out of my inn—"

"You know exactly who I'm looking for, Tess! Don't test me. I'll burn this place to the ground—don't think I won't!" the brute barked back, his boots already thundering toward the stairs.

Upstairs, the girl froze—her song dying on her lips. Her breath turned shallow, chest tight. The footsteps pounded up the stairs. She spun around, eyes wide like a hunted deer. She reached for the closest door—Ali's door—her trembling hands found the handle—

Locked.

Her heart stopped. The footsteps—just feet away.

Then the door swung open. A hand—large, warm—seized her wrist and pulled her inside. The door clicked shut an instant before the brute's boots hit the landing.

Inside, she stumbled—collided with something solid, something warm. Her eyes fluttered open.

Black fabric. Hard muscle beneath. She found herself pressed against Ali's chest—her breath caught. Her ragged clothes, her dirt-smeared skin—it all looked like rags against him.

She opened her mouth to whisper something—anything—when his hand covered her lips. His other hand lifted, a single finger pressed to his own lips.

Silent.

In the hall, the floorboards groaned under the weight of greedy men. But inside that room, time itself seemed to hold its breath—while Ali, watched the door with an expressionless face, he didn't seem to care.

"I know you're here! What did I tell you, huh?" The brute's voice thundered down the corridor as he stomped from door to door, flinging each one open like he owned the place. The hinges rattled under his fists. His lackeys flanked him, eager for trouble.

"Hey! I have a paying guest—your shouting will wake him up!" Tess hissed, trying to squeeze herself between the brute and the next door.

He spun, towering over her. His breath reeked of cheap liquor. "She's mine, Tess. You know damn well what happens to any bastard in this town who even looks at that bitch. You know that, don't you?" His eyes narrowed, glittering with the thrill of cruelty.

Tess stood her ground, chin high, meeting his stare without blinking. "She's not here. I forbid her from setting foot in my inn—just like you ordered. Now get out."

His lips peeled back in a grin that was all threat and no humour. "Let's see if your courtesy's worth a damn, Tess."

He shoved her aside. Tess stumbled back, catching herself on the wall as he stalked straight to Ali's door. He slammed his fist against the wood, loud enough to rattle the whole floor. His goons stood behind him, sneering.

Inside, the girl flinched at each pound on the door. She looked up at Ali, tears brimming, the fear so raw in her eyes it almost hurt to see. She couldn't remember the last time a hand had offered help without a chain attached.

Ali's expression didn't change. He lifted his hand from her mouth, his cold eyes locking onto hers. Then he tilted his head toward the far corner of the room—silent, simple instruction. She stared at him for a heartbeat—why was he helping her?—but she obeyed, padding barefoot to the dark corner, curling herself into the shadows just as the door swung open.

"HEY, HAVE YOU SE—"

The brute's voice cracked in half when his eyes landed on Ali.

Every man alive knows it when he's looking at another man he should never try his luck with, someone too dangerous.

Ali stood there, calm as stone, eyes black as pitch, no warmth in them at all. He stepped forward and the brute instinctively stepped back, bumping into his own men.

"Is there a problem?" Ali asked, his voice so casual it was terrifying.

"N-no, sir," the brute stammered, eyes flicking between Ali's chest and his face. "I—we—we're just looking for my lost niece, that's all. Didn't mean to disturb you. So sorry, sir."

Ali tilted his head, the faintest twist of amusement curling his lip. "Where do you think you're going?"

The brute froze. Tess, standing behind Ali now, could feel the drop in temperature like the moment before a storm breaks.

"If you want to walk out of this building with all four limbs intact," Ali said softly, "you're going to compensate me for dragging me out of bed."

His hand flexed at his side. Behind the brute, his two hired dogs suddenly staggered, their hands flying to their throats, eyes bulging as invisible fingers squeezed their windpipes. One tried to gasp a word—only a choked rasp came out.

The brute's eyes darted from his goons to Ali's blank face. "I—I—I'm sorry, sir! Please—please—accept this—" He fumbled at his belt, tugging out a leather pouch so heavy it strained the seams. He opened it to pull out a few coins—but when his eyes met Ali's, cold and expectant, he swallowed and shut the pouch again. He held it out with both hands like an offering to a god.

Ali plucked the pouch from his trembling fingers and tossed it once in his palm, weighing it. Satisfied, he cocked his head toward the stairs. "That's more like it. Now get the fuck out."

They didn't need telling twice. The brute practically tripped over his own feet, shoving his goons ahead of him. They stumbled down the stairs, smashing into a table on the way out. Tess watched through the window as they fled into the night—three wolves turned mice, squealing into the shadows.

Inside, Tess turned to Ali, her chest still rising and falling with adrenaline. "I'm sorry—I'll have her leave right now. She won't trouble you any—"

Ali cut her off with a single movement. He stepped forward, blocking the doorway with his broad frame. His voice was quiet, final. "She's staying with me."

The door shut with a solid thud, the lock clicking into place. Tess stood there, stunned, staring at the grain of the door she'd just been locked out of. A bitter heat pooled in her chest—an ache she hadn't felt in years.

'You can have me instead', she wanted to say. But the words never came out.

'Am I too old for him?', she wondered as she turned back to her counter—'oh what am I thinking…', she was embarrassed that she was getting jealous and thinking like a teenager in love at her age.

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