By Manasvi Mukherjee
The world came in pieces for those visiting the Inn, zeroing in onto the area where the Duskhaven Inn is located. They get welcomed by the sight of an immense ocean while being situated at a cliff that is bound to be rocky. All of this gets even more engaging when you realize how the purple colored dusk encircles them. Some of the walls made out of stone have witnessed loads of adventures and feel the warmth of that purple dusk. For those who chose to go to this dull recess of space, the duskhaven was a site to rest at, abandoned with loads of history bound to intrigue you.
The legend of an ever-lasting guest was something that fascinated her the most; Amelia being the subject in this case.
Like many stories, this one also starts off on a grave note where Amelia's father passes away; at the time of his death Amelia had been working at the duskhaven for the past three years. She tried to shrug off such narrations for as long as she could survive, where she checked in decades ago yet never ever left the dawn. To many this taboos were engaging but to her that was justification enough.
Such sounds were nonexistent in that particular area. The night was soothing for a majority of people. The only noise that was to be heard was the crackling of the fire. The sea waves crashing the cliffs were bound to provide them with the golden hour that they so desired. Amelia felt uncomfortable and stood up, while the rest were ready to fall asleep in that particular common room. The sound of the door opening did come as a shock.
As he entered, a gust of wind swept through the place and there he was, making an impact coz he was soaked. The new chap was old school. He wore a woolen scarf and a hat, which concealed most of his face. He placed a leather satchel on the counter and took off his hat and we saw a man with sharp features, silver hair and piercing gray eyes.
“You must be the new innkeeper,” he said in a deep and soft voice.
At this point, Amelia took a moment to think. “I am. And you must be…”
“A special guest here to meet you. Mr Alaric is my name.” He smiled gently.
By Manasvi Mukherjee
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