I shouldn’t need to tell myself that so forcefully.
Even though the reason I am up this early is to work on salvage before the villagers who’ve known me their whole life open their doors to glare at me, and the reason I’m returning to my new home on the mountain now is to avoid the oppressive weight of judgment when I inevitably get in their way.
I shouldn’t complain. After the magical shockwave a few weeks ago, I’m better off than many of them, and the aftermathgave me a job that no one else can do.Andnow I have a home all to myself where none of them can get to me. I can just beme.
The trees open up as I reach the clearing where Celestial Sanctuary Temple and now also my cottage sit. It looks almost... shimmery? in the early morning light today, filling me with both wonder and a kind of twisted longing.
Just because I nullify magic by existing doesn’t mean I don’t crave it in my heart.
As I make my way to the door, though, I finally see what the glimmers catching my eye actually are: dragon scales.
They’reeverywhere.
And some of them are very, very dark.
Was there a dragon fight in my front yard while I was at the base of the mountain? Surely I would have noticed that, right?
My heart clenches. No. There’s a long list of things I ought to have noticed.
But my cottage is still standing, and the ground doesn’t look super singed?
But those dark scales...
I hurry to my door, letting my pack full of materials for my cottage—I’ve never built a planter, but how hard can it be? Yes, I know, famous last words—drop unceremoniously to the ground in my rush.
But just as I’m about to reach the door, it opens.
On a person. A stranger.
Inside my house.
We stare at each other.
He’s... incredibly attractive, in an extremely intimidating way, not helped by his all-black ensemble. Tall, with dark hair,practically golden eyes, sharp cheekbones, severe expression. Like he doesn’t know how to smile.
My heart rate kicks up. Meticulous people with high expectations who aren’t forgiving of mistakes are... not the kind of people I do well with.
Is he a priest? He must be, with this outfit, right? But no priests have been here since the blast. Though I guess technically I don’t own this land, but I really didn’t think that would be a problem all things considered—
“Who are you?” the man asks abruptly.
“Tasa,” I answer automatically, before realizing maybe I shouldn’t have.
I sigh. That’s me. Always speaking before thinking.
Too late now.
I guess having a space of my own was too good to be true for me. “You’re here to evict me,” I gather, resigned.
His eyebrows shoot up. “This cottage is yours?”
What’s that supposed to mean?
I square my shoulders. “Yes. I built it. I’m sorry, I know I didn’t have permission, but because of the magic I didn’t think anyone else would be back here—”
“You built itsincethe Sage of Wrath’s working?”
I blink. “...Yes?”
