The sound of hushed voices roused Salome.

  Drowsily, she opened her eyes and turned her head to the side. There, beside her bed, was Alin, bending over the little girl from earlier, whispering something in her ear. A few loose strands of hair draped over the child’s forehead, and nestled among them was that same peculiar bump that, upon closer inspection, definitely resembled a small horn.

  She wanted to move, but her body felt strangely sluggish—as if she had slept for far too long. The rustling of her blanket caught Alin’s attention.

  “Ah, Salome, you’re awake! We were just about to wake you up. Right, Nuria?” The little girl nodded again and then looked shyly at Salome. A tired smile spread across Salome’s face, brightening the girl’s expression.

  “Well then, Nuria,” said Alin, “go to Sileil and tell her we’ll be downstairs shortly. And don’t forget to help her in the kitchen afterwards!” With a caring hand, she tousled Nuria’s hair. The girl dashed out of the room and clattered down the stairs.

  “Who’s Sileil?” Salome asked in a strained voice. Why did she feel so weak? She tried to sit up, but only managed with a little help from Alin.

  “She’s the housekeeper,” explained Alin. “She looks after us and assigns each of us certain tasks. She makes sure we make ourselves useful and help one another.”

  “We?” Salome echoed.

  “Yes. We.” Alin smiled. “Many of us are very old, but there are still some like me—and children like Nuria. Only one or two of us find our way here each year, but it’s still better than wandering out there forever, isn’t it?”

  Salome nodded, confused, having no idea what Alin was talking about.

  She desperately needed answers.

  Sitting on the edge of her bed, she could feel her strength slowly returning.

  “Well, you seem to be getting back on your feet,” Alin remarked after a scrutinizing glance. “I’ve already changed your bandage. If things keep on like this, your leg will be as good as new in a day or two. Honestly, do your injuries always heal this quickly? That bruised rib was gone after the very first day!” She shook her head in wonder. “Would you like me to help you get dressed, just to be safe?”

  “No, it’s fine,” Salome replied quickly, waving her off. “I can manage.”

  “Alright then. I’ll wait by the door. When you’re ready, just come out, and we’ll head downstairs. You finally get to ask your questions.” With that, Alin turned and left the room.

  Salome slowly got to her feet. Once she felt steady enough, she wasted no time. Her clothes were neatly folded beside the bed, so she quickly changed. It took a bit longer for her to put on her boots, as the bandage made her foot barely fit and her ankle ached with every awkward movement. But she could walk.

  She bounded clumsily toward the door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

  Alin was waiting in the corridor outside the room, greeting her with that same ever-present smile.

  “Come on, then,” she said, leading Salome to a wooden staircase at the foot of which warm light flickered. Alin supported her on the way down.

  When they finally reached the last step, Salome entered a smoky, cozily furnished room that appeared to be the taproom of an inn. Large round tables filled the space, with cushioned chairs tucked neatly underneath. The walls were lined with snug, upholstered benches and several soft armchairs. Warm light seeped from a large tiled stove, within which a small fire danced. Oil lamps hung from wall fixtures, and tiny tea lights twinkled on the tables. Although the curtains at the windows were drawn, the dim twilight bestowed upon the room a sense of deep peace. It was the kind of place one would eagerly look forward to on a cold winter’s evening, just in time to curl up with a good book.

  At the far end, opposite the stairs, was a long counter behind which a broad shelf—laden with bottles, barrels, and various other items—spanned the entire wall. The exit was secured by an inconspicuous door.

  To the right of the counter, a passage led into the kitchen, its entrance veiled by strands of rattling wooden beads. Salome could hear the gentle clatter of pans and pots.

  The room wasn’t empty though. And the sight of those gathered within made Salome freeze on the spot.

  They were monsters.

  They looked human, yet the skin peeking out from beneath their clothes was pale, almost gray, and marred by cracks and fissures, resembling ancient stone. Each of them had two unmistakable horns protruding from their foreheads. Like two long, slender spikes, they arched over their heads for several handbreadths. Some were curved and pointed to the side, others twisted in spirals, and a few were even broken or worn down.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  With wide eyes, Salome watched these… beings slowly dragging themselves around the room, leisurely resting on the benches, quietly conversing, or puffing on long, drawn-out pipes.

  They were all ancient. Salome saw an elderly woman with a bowed back, skillfully flicking knitting needles through the air with her deft fingers. She saw men with rugged faces silently playing cards or dozing by the tiled stove. Some of them adorned their horns with rings or let chains dangle between them.

  “Surprised?” Alin asked with a smile. She took Salome’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Don’t worry, the people here are extraordinarily friendly. They might look a little intimidating, but there’s no need to be afraid!”

  Salome was so frightened that she could barely move.

  “What in the world are those things?” she whispered anxiously, her voice barely audible.

  Slowly, some of the assembled figures began to take notice of Salome. To her horror, she saw more and more heads turning in her direction, hushed conversations falling silent, and wrinkled fingers pointing at her. Curious glances fixated on her as murmurs and whispers spread through the room—snippets like “Is that her?” or “…just a fairy tale…” floated in the air.

  These words were swallowed by the general hum of voices, a buzzing like that of a beehive permeating the space.

  “They are people just like you and me, only fate has dealt them a heavy hand,” Alin said in a flat tone. She meant to add something more, but at that moment the beaded curtain behind the counter rustled aside, and a tall woman emerged from the kitchen.

  Although she appeared markedly younger than the others in the room, she too had horns on her forehead and stone-like skin. She wore a simple dress adorned with playful trimmings at the sleeves and hem, and a spotless white apron. Her raven-black hair was held back by a net.

  Her stern expression, piercing gaze, and the way she moved with absolute confidence and dignity gave her a natural authority. Clearly, she meant to find out what all the commotion was about. But when she saw Salome, she straightened her skirt, glided gracefully through the room, and came directly toward her. Their eyes met, and in that instant, Salome was utterly captivated, unable to tear her gaze away.

  All the color drained from Salome’s face. She stumbled back in horror a few steps. Suddenly, she felt like a helpless mouse fleeing from an oncoming burst of rain, fully aware that escape was futile. Just as the woman—towering more than two heads above her—was nearly upon her, Salome squeezed her eyes shut in fear—and found herself enveloped in a warm embrace.

  “How wonderful that you’re finally awake,” the woman said in an unusually deep voice, pressing Salome’s face against her ample bosom so that Salome could barely breathe. “We were all very worried about you!” A cheerful giggle, part laughter and part relieved sigh, escaped her.

  Salome managed to free her face and gasped for air. Confused, she looked up at the woman, who smiled at her with maternal tenderness, as if cradling a newborn. In astonishment, Salome stared at the intimidating, pointed horns protruding from her forehead.

  “How is your leg? Are you in pain?” The woman placed her hands on Salome’s shoulders and gently pushed her away to get a better look.

  Salome’s mouth felt as if it had dried up. She couldn’t muster the strength to move a muscle. Who were these people? What did they want from her? To her dismay, she noticed that many of the elderly had come closer. Her head jerked anxiously from side to side.

  “That’s her, isn’t it?” croaked a woman, whose age must span several centuries, judging by her looks.

  “Is it true, what your friend said?” asked a man whose face seemed to be made entirely of wrinkles, one who could have been the grandfather of Salomes grandfather.

  “That can’t be,” muttered another. “It’s just a fairy tale, I say!”

  “But the boy sounded damn convincing, if you ask me,” interjected a man with a bulbous nose and a spiraled horn. “And just look at her eyes!”

  “No one’s asking you though!” someone from the crowd retorted, and the man looked around indignantly. “What? Who said that?” A low growl rumbled from his throat. Others laughed, and soon no one held back any longer.

  Questions upon questions pounded on Salome—about herself, about her home Fundament, and whether this world truly existed. Suddenly, they seemed to her like children encountering a legendary figure from their favorite fairy tale.

  Overwhelmed by the barrage of words, she withdrew her head, unsure of what to do next. She glanced back at Alin standing by the stairs and seriously contemplated fleeing back upstairs, escaping the grip of the imposing woman by slipping between the legs of the elderly. Yet she felt paralyzed.

  At that moment, the woman raised her voice: “Now, now, calm down! Don’t all speak at once! Can’t you see you’re scaring the girl? She’s trembling!” Shaking her head, she wrapped her arms protectively around Salome. “What is it with you all? Where are your manners toward a guest?”

  Gradually, the clamor in the taproom subsided. Some even murmured a quiet apology or looked down in regret. The elders stepped back to give Salome some space, though they still formed a semicircle around her.

  Once calm returned to the room, the woman nodded in satisfaction and said, “Much better. I understand your curiosity, but Salome has only just awoken and is still a bit weak on her feet. In due time, she will surely answer all your questions.” Looking down at Salome, she added in a gentle tone, “I am Sileil, the hostess of the Wegesend Inn, and these are my esteemed guests and dear friends.” She gestured toward the horned elders. “I am delighted to officially welcome you into my home!”

  A murmur of agreement filled the room. Then Sileil raised a finger to her lips. “I know what I just said… but it would be cruel to test the patience of my guests any longer. They can hardly wait to learn more about you. So, I ask you, girl, tell me this one thing:” Leaning down to look Salome straight in the eyes, she asked, “Are you truly from Fundament?”

  Salome found herself unable to evade that piercing gaze, just as before. Uncomfortable with the tense silence that filled the room, she opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, yet no sound emerged. As the silence of the attentive elders grew unbearable, she managed a timid nod.

  At that moment, a new uproar broke out among the elders. Sileil maintained her unyielding gaze, as if trying to peer into Salome’s very soul and extract the truth from her, but after a while a smile formed on her lips.

  Suddenly, she took Salome’s hand and, leading her through the crowd, made her way to the entrance door, which she swung open without hesitation.

  And before she knew it, Salome found herself staggering into a resplendent, golden light.