The villain's side of the novel-Novel

Chapter 206  The Faggy memories

As chaos consumed the battlefield, Fray found himself pressed on all sides, his body forced down to the ground. His senses heightened, and he became acutely aware of the cold steel of a sword appearing at the edge of his vision. But his attention was drawn elsewhere, transfixed by the sight of a girl with long black hair and piercing black eyes.

Time seemed to slow as Fray's gaze locked onto the girl's tear-filled eyes, a mix of pain and resentment emanating from her. Her lips moved, forming words that he couldn't audibly discern amidst the cacophony of battle. Yet, in a strange twist of understanding, Fray could discern her silent voice as if it whispered directly into his soul.

"They were right about you, you are a monster."

Her accusation hung in the air, the weight of her words seeping into his being. At that moment, all other sounds faded away, and the chaos around him seemed to recede into the background. Fray's focus narrowed, fixated solely on the girl before him, her accusations piercing through the turmoil that surrounded them.

For a brief moment, a flicker of pain crossed Fray's expression. The weight of her words, on him was unexpected even for Fray himself. He saw his reflection mirrored in her eyes, his self-doubt and turmoil reflected at him.

....

Fray's eyes slowly fluttered open, and his vision blurred. He rubbed his temples, trying to dispel the remnants of the dream that clung to his mind like cobwebs.

It felt as if he had just awakened from a deep slumber, disoriented and unsure of his surroundings. The disjointed images and emotions from the dream lingered, casting a fog over his thoughts.

"What was that dream?" Fray murmured to himself, his voice barely audible. He couldn't shake the feeling that it held some deeper meaning, a message he couldn't quite grasp. It had felt so real, so vivid, yet now it slipped through his fingers like a fleeting wisp of smoke.

As he looked around the small room, the unfamiliar surroundings seemed to reinforce the sense of disconnection. Confusion washed over him as he struggled to recall how he had arrived there or what had transpired in the moments before.

Sitting up in the narrow bed, Fray surveyed the room, his gaze falling upon the worn furniture and faded wallpaper. It was a simple space, devoid of any personal belongings or indications of the inn's owner. His mind raced, searching for answers, but finding none.

" Where am I?" Fray whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the silence of the room. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet making contact with the cool wooden floor. As he stood up, a wave of dizziness washed over him, causing him to steady himself against the bedpost.

His memory remained fragmented, flashes of images and emotions swirling in his mind like fragments of a forgotten dream. There was a battle, accusations, and a sense of profound conflict. But the details eluded him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Leaving the room, Fray emerged into a dimly lit hallway, the sound of distant chatter and clinking glasses echoing from below. He descended a narrow staircase and found himself in a small common area, filled with worn-out tables and a handful of patrons engaged in hushed conversations.

Fray approached the worn wooden counter where the innkeeper stood, his cold, indifferent demeanor firmly in place. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice tinged with a hint of impatience, "Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?"

The innkeeper glanced up from his ledger, his eyes meeting Fray's for a moment before quickly averting his gaze. He hesitated, a flicker of unease passing across his face, before finally responding, "Unfortunately, sir, we can't answer your question."

Fray's frustration bubbled to the surface, his anger simmering just below the calm exterior. "What do you mean you can't tell me? I demand to know where I am!" His voice rose, filling the room with an air of tension.

As if sensing the mounting conflict, the patrons in the inn fell silent, their eyes fixed on Fray with challenging expressions. A sense of defiance hung in the air, daring him to push further.

The innkeeper maintained his composed demeanor, his voice steady as he poured a drink and slid it across the counter. "Please, sir, calm down. Have a drink and take a moment to collect yourself."

Fray's anger wavered for a moment as he locked eyes with the innkeeper, as he realized he can't find any I formation here Fray decided to leave ( I have to find Aslan ) Fray thought. Leaving the inn behind, he stepped out into the small village.

With each step, Fray couldn't help but feel that something was amiss in this place. The streets were lined with dilapidated buildings, their worn facades reflecting the hardships of the people who called this place home. The villagers moved about with weary expressions, their eyes avoiding contact as if burdened by secrets they dared not share.

The atmosphere was heavy, a palpable darkness lingering in the air. Fray could feel it, the unsettling aura that seemed to wrap itself around the village and its inhabitants.

As his gaze shifted towards the forest that loomed on the outskirts of the village, a shiver ran down Fray's spine. The trees stood tall and foreboding, their branches intertwining like gnarled fingers reaching out to ensnare any who dared venture into their depths.

The forest exuded an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the haunting calls of unseen creatures.

Fray couldn't shake the feeling that the forest held secrets, ancient and dark, waiting to be discovered. It was as if the very fabric of the land pulsated with dark energy, a force that both intrigued and unnerved him.

Resolute, Fray took a deep breath and stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dirt road. With each passing moment, he gets closer and closer to the edge of the forest.

As Fray took that final step past the first tree, a strange and disorienting sensation enveloped him.

The world around him seemed to warp and twist, and when he blinked his eyes open, he found himself standing once again at the gate of the small village he had just left.

The surroundings mirrored those he had seen before, with dilapidated buildings lining the streets and weary villagers going about their daily routines.

The air was thick with the same heaviness, the unspoken tension that seemed to weigh upon the villagers' shoulders.

Confusion washed over Fray as he glanced around, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just occurred. Had it all been a figment of his imagination? Or was there something more sinister at play within this?

After this strange phenomenon, Fray tried to leave from another side but soon his frustration grew with each attempt to leave the village, only to find himself inexplicably back at its entrance each time. It was as if an unseen force held him captive within its boundaries, refusing to release him to the outside world.

With a determined resolve, Fray retraced his steps, eventually making his way back to the inn. As he pushed open the creaking door, he froze in his tracks, surprise washing over his face.

Standing before him was Aslan, a young woman with striking black eyes and hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall of midnight.

Next to her stood another young woman, her fiery red hair a stark contrast to Aslan's dark beauty. She possessed an air of confidence and determination, her eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Fray's eyes darted between the two women, a mixture of confusion and relief flooding his senses. "Aslan!?"