Eryshae

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Vael

Salisbury

Morning came like a kiss through thin linen, soft, warm, and impossible to ignore. Golden light poured through the slatted window of the bathhouse chamber, casting long bars across the smooth stone floor. The water in the pool had cooled to a gentle warmth, and the last of the floating candles had guttered out, leaving wisps of steam and the faint scent of rose.

Vael stirred first. Her limbs felt heavy, boneless with satisfaction, her skin still humming from the night before. She shifted beneath the towel wrapped loosely around her, nestled in the crook of Sam's arm. He was still asleep, or something close to it, his chest rising slowly and even, his hand resting protectively at her hip.

She turned her head slightly, taking him in through slitted eyes. The amber in his chest still glowed faintly beneath his skin, a warm ember just beneath the surface. She smiled to herself. Still glowing for me. Reluctantly, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "Wake up, sea-ghost. The day's already bragging."

Sam groaned, eyes scrunching. "Let it brag. I've got everything I want right here."

"Flatter me again, and I'll make us late."

"Worth it."

She chuckled and slid out of the water, reaching for her clothes. Steam still clung to the air, wrapping around her bare shoulders as she dressed slowly, thoughtfully, savoring the quiet afterglow while it lasted.

Sam followed suit with a yawn and a stretch, tousled and slow-moving in the best way. They moved around each other in a comfortable rhythm, a shared towel, a stray kiss at the shoulder, a hand at the small of the back as they opened the door together and stepped back into the world.

The bathhouse lobby was quiet, warm with early sunlight filtering through the high windows. A kettle hissed on a brazier near the front desk, and the scent of citrus steam filled the air. And there, seated on a cushioned bench near the front desk with arms crossed and one brow raised like the sharp edge of judgment, was Toya.

Dressed crisp, her fiery red hair in a professional braid, and travel-ready, her polished boots crossed at the ankle, she looked up from a folded town map in her lap with a smirk just barely concealed by the mug she sipped from. "Well, well," she said, voice wry and low. "Look who finally emerged from the mist."

Sam cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in adjusting the buckle of his satchel. Vael didn't flinch. She offered Toya a slow, serene smile and sauntered forward like she had no secrets at all. "Some of us know how to enjoy a bath properly," she said, brushing a damp curl behind her ear.

Toya's smirk deepened, and she sipped again. "Judging by the delay and the bruises on your neck, I'd say enjoy is putting it lightly."

Sam coughed.

Vael raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother to hide her grin. "Jealousy's a bad look, Commander." Toya laughed softly, shaking her head. "Just remember which one of us has the room keys and the breakfast vouchers." Vael turned to Sam, eyes sparkling. "We should probably be nice to her." Sam gave a long, dramatic sigh. "Fine. Toya, you look radiant this morning, did you brush your red hair exceptionally well today?"

"Too late," Toya replied, standing and tucking the map into her belt. "I'm stealing… ahem… requisitioning… the good pastries." Vael linked her arm through Sam's, leaning in close. "Let her. We've got something better."

And as they stepped out into the sunlit square, hand in hand, skin still tingling, hearts still warm, Vael tilted her face to the sky and breathed deep. Ocean City waited ahead. But in this moment, wrapped in warmth and fresh light, she felt like she was already there.

The air outside was crisp with early summer warmth, the kind that clung lightly to the skin and made the stone streets feel sun-baked and alive. Vael adjusted her cloak over one shoulder as she and Sam strolled side by side, following the narrow street eastward through the center of Salisbury.

The town was already humming with life. Children skipped between crates of lemons and jars of honey in the open market. A trio of musicians strummed at dulcimers in front of a bookshop, their melodies lifting gently into the breeze. Flowering vines draped from the balconies above, and the scent of warm bread and cut citrus filled the air.

They passed a pair of elderly women with wide straw hats and baskets full of feathers and handmade soaps. "Did you hear?" one of them said brightly, swaying her basket as they walked. "The Salisbury Zoo opened its gates again this week, proper keepers returned, finally!"

"About time," the other replied. "That poor pygmy lion was looking more like a dust mop than a king." Vael blinked, turning her head slightly as the women passed. "Zoo?" Sam chuckled. "I didn't know towns this size still had them."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"They said pygmy lion," Vael murmured, eyes narrowing with amusement. "That can't be real."

"Only one way to find out." She glanced sidelong at him, brow raised. "You want to go to a zoo?"

"I've faced a multitude of terrifying things since I got here… but baby animals behind iron bars?" He placed a hand over his glowing heart with mock solemnity. "That might be the final test of my courage." Vael laughed aloud, drawing glances from a passing merchant. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're curious." She didn't argue that. The idea of something so normal, so untouched by rebellion made something stir in her chest. Wonder, maybe. Or hunger for the kind of life she'd never been allowed to want.

"We'll see," she said at last, letting her fingers drift into his. "Maybe after breakfast." Sam squeezed her hand, then raised their joined fingers to kiss her knuckles. "It's a date."

The Drowned Heron came into view at the corner of two gently curving streets, its weathered stone facade softened by ivy and flowering window boxes. A heron carved in driftwood hung over the door, wings outstretched mid-flight. Warm light spilled through the windows, and the smell of spiced eggs and honeyed tea floated into the street.

Toya was already seated at a street-side table, a plate of flaky pastries in front of her, along with a folded map and a pitcher of cool lemon water. She looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand. "Zoo?" she called out before they even reached her. "Tell me I didn't just hear you two planning a date with goats and feathered rats." Vael slid into the chair across from her, grinning. "Don't mock what you fear."

"I fear nothing," Toya said, picking up a still-warm pastry and biting into it. "Except traveling with people who get distracted by furry things and carnival snacks." Sam dropped into his chair and poured them each a glass of water. "We can multitask. Food now, animals later. And maybe, if you're good, we'll buy you a souvenir plush." Toya rolled her eyes, but the smile betrayed her. "Make it a two-headed duck and we've got a deal."

The Drowned Heron Inn had the good kind of charm, worn but loved, like a favorite storybook that never stayed on the shelf. The open-air seating along the stone veranda caught the morning sun just right, and the table where they gathered was already cluttered with too many plates and not enough restraint.

Coffee arrived first, strong, dark, and served in mismatched porcelain cups. Vael held hers between both hands, breathing in the bitter steam before her first sip. She sighed as it hit her tongue, the edge of exhaustion curling away like smoke.

Then came the hash browns: golden, crisped with rosemary and shards of charred onion. Toya had already claimed half the plate by the time Sam reached for his fork. "Hey," he said with mock betrayal, "that one had my name on it."

"You snore," Toya replied, unfazed. "This is justice." More dishes arrived: soft eggs with chives and peppered cheese, glazed ham slices, and a basket of chocolate pastries, flaky and warm, each bite filled with soft ribbons of melted dark cocoa. Vael bit into one and closed her eyes like it was a sacrament. "Stars above," she muttered, licking a smear of chocolate from her thumb. "If the zoo's half this good, I'm moving here."

"Don't tempt me," Sam said, leaning over to steal a bite from her pastry. "I could get used to this." Their conversation drifted easily between subjects: ocean winds, what happened to Mira, the route ahead, a local saying Toya found ridiculous ("If the goose circles twice, the rain will burn!"), and whether saber-toothed raccoons would be allowed inside the zoo. (They would not.)

By the end of the meal, Vael felt the warmth of good food and laughter settling deep in her bones, softening something inside her she hadn't realized was still braced. She leaned her head on Sam's shoulder for a moment, full and happy. "Let's go see that pygmy lion before I decide to nap through lunch." "Deal," he murmured, kissing the top of her head. They left Toya behind with the final chocolate pastry and a warning not to kill anyone in the town before lunch.

The street outside had grown livelier in the hour since they'd arrived. The air was richer now with the scent of blooming honeysuckle and hot pavement, and the chatter of vendors and children echoed softly off the stone. Sam and Vael walked arm in arm, half-drowsy from their feast, following the gentle curve of the cobblestone road toward the canal that bordered the southern edge of town. Beyond it, they'd been told, lay the zoo.

Sam reached up to tuck a strand of Vael's hair behind her ear, when he nearly collided with a woman stepping around the corner. "Whoa,sorry about that," he said instinctively, stepping back with a polite half-smile. But the apology froze on his lips.

The woman didn't respond. Didn't flinch. She simply stopped, standing too still for the bustle of the street. Her dress was a dull gray-blue, simple, functional. Her hair was dark and tightly braided down her back, but her skin was pale, washed-out, like something left too long beneath the moon.

But it was her eyes that caught him. Her eyes didn't blink enough. And when they did, they blinked wrong, too slow, like the turn of a head at midnight in an empty aviary.

They weren't vacant.

They were watching.

But the watching didn't feel human.

A chill brushed his spine.

Vael had turned at the same moment, her fingers tightening faintly on his arm. But by the time they both looked again, the woman had stepped past and blended into the crowd without another glance. Sam exhaled slowly, then shook his head. "Well. That wasn't weird at all." Vael raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just... got stared down by an owl, apparently." Vael's gaze lingered on the direction the woman had gone, but she forced a smile as she looped her arm back through his. "You've been stared at by worse."

"True," he said, lips quirking. "Usually by you." She bumped her hip against his, and the moment passed. Whatever that had been, whoever she was, it wasn't their problem. Not today. Ahead, a wooden sign swung gently in the breeze:

SALISBURY ZOO – THIS WAY TO CREATURES OF WONDER AND WHIMSY.

Sam pointed. "Look, pygmy lions." Vael grinned, letting herself be pulled forward. "Lead the way, brave sailor." And together, they followed the road toward laughter and animal calls, sun on their backs.

They crossed the arched footbridge that spanned the canal, the stone worn smooth by years of footsteps and sunlight. Laughter echoed from ahead, children squealing in delight, a vendor calling out caramel nut clusters, the distant bleat of something not-quite-goat.

The entrance to the Salisbury Zoo stood just beyond the grove of white-blossomed trees, its iron gates shaped like curling vines, painted in gentle blues and greens. A carved wooden sign above read:

"Creatures of Wonder and Whimsy , All Welcome."

Sam glanced at Vael. "Still not too late to turn back." Vael tilted her head, smirking. "I don't know. I think the creatures might be disappointed."

"Especially the pygmy lion." She laughed softly, and together they stepped through the open gates, hand in hand, sunlight dancing in the leaves above them.