Chapter 21: The Empty Room

Dawn broke over the tavern, a thin gray light seeping through the warped shutters. Jasper stirred, the ache of the hard floor clinging to his bones. Flame’s warmth pressed against him, the jaguar’s steady breathing a quiet anchor in the stillness. For a moment, he lingered in the haze of sleep, the ghost of Sarah’s kiss still burning soft against his cheek. A fragile hope flickered in his chest—today, he’d see her again. Today, he’d find the courage to speak his name, his truth.

He rose, brushing straw from his cloak, and roused Flame with a gentle nudge. The great cat stretched, golden eyes glinting, but there was a tension in her movements, a low rumble in her throat that Jasper didn’t yet heed. His mind was elsewhere, tangled in chestnut eyes and promises unspoken.

The tavern’s common room was already stirring when they descended, the scent of fresh-baked bread and sizzling fat mingling with the stale tang of last night’s ale. Travelers and locals hunched over their plates, voices low. Jasper scanned the room for Sarah, expecting her bright presence to cut through the morning’s gloom. But she wasn’t there.

A prickle of unease touched him, but he brushed it aside. She’s a princess. Likely still abed, tended by her guards. He and Flame took a table near the hearth, ordering a simple breakfast—bread, cheese, and a slab of bacon for Flame, who tore into it with less relish than usual. Her ears twitched, her gaze darting to the shadowed corners of the room. Jasper, lost in thought, barely noticed.

When the meal was done and Sarah still hadn’t appeared, the prickle grew into a gnawing weight. “Come, Flame,” he muttered, rising. “Let’s see what keeps her.”

They climbed the stairs to the room Sarah had taken, the one her guards had flanked so vigilantly last night. But as they reached the door, Jasper’s heart stuttered. No guards stood watch. The door hung ajar, a sliver of dim light spilling into the hall.

He pushed it open, Flame pressing close, her tail lashing. The room was empty. The bed stood pristine, its linens untouched, no sign of sleep or struggle. Sarah’s scent—lavender and steel—was faint, already fading. Jasper stood frozen, the air growing heavy in his chest. His fingers brushed the doorframe, as if it might hold some trace of her, some explanation.

“She’s… gone,” he whispered, the words cracking. His heart, so briefly alight with hope, twisted sharply, a pang of loss so raw it stole his breath. Confusion flooded in—had she left willingly? Had he misread her? The kiss, the warmth in her eyes—had it all been a fleeting dream?

Flame growled low, her nose twitching, catching a scent Jasper couldn’t. She pawed at the floor, her unease a mirror to the storm building in him. He knelt beside her, trying to steady himself, but the world felt unsteady, unmoored.

Downstairs, they returned to the common room, Jasper’s eyes distant, searching for answers in the faces of strangers. Flame’s hackles rose as they passed a cloaked figure in the corner—a Hollowed, his face half-hidden, watching them with eyes like cold stone. The jaguar’s nose twitched again, catching the sour reek of goblins, faint but unmistakable, woven into the air. She pressed against Jasper’s leg, her claws flexing, trying to pull his attention to the danger he couldn’t see through his grief.

He didn’t notice. Not yet.

As they stepped outside, the morning air bit at his skin. Sarah’s wagon tracks carved deep ruts in the muddy road, leading away from the tavern, toward the dark woods beyond. Flame froze, her nostrils flaring, the scent of deceit sharper now—goblins, betrayal, and something colder, older. She pawed at Jasper’s boot, her golden eyes urgent, pleading.

He crouched, finally seeing her alertness, her mistrust. “What is it, girl?” he murmured, his voice rough. His fingers brushed her fur, and a spark of clarity cut through his heartbreak. “Skullduggery, eh? Trouble on the road?” Flame’s low growl was answer enough.

His gaze followed the tracks, then lifted to the horizon, where the woods loomed like a waiting maw. “Sarah,” he said softly, her name a vow. “And a foul wind with her.”

They set out, Jasper’s heart still raw but hardening with purpose, Flame’s senses sharp as a blade. Behind them, the Hollowed watched from the tavern’s shadow, his lips curling faintly. A raven burst from his cloak, wings beating hard, carrying a message to the Black Tower—and to the Goblin Overseer who waited in its depths.

The road ahead was dark, and the world was not done with its cruelties.

Entered by: 0xe9a1…78d3