Page 21 of The Dark Elf's Secret Twins

Lykan?”

“Yes, we must be off. Thank you for the tea.”

“Anytime,” says Nasthyn, waving hand in farewell.

The door shuts behind them. A part of me wishes to flee after Lykan but reason stops me.

“What interesting friends you have,” says Nasthyn before walking off.

I place a hand on the front door. A wave of guilt and abandonment brushes over me.

11

LYKAN

Today marks two years since I last saw Cyra. I’ll never forget the way she looked bearing Nasthyn’s child. The shock that overcame me the moment she opened the door to reveal herself was the second it all changed.

What had started out as an effort just to check on her wellbeing only left me feeling worse than ever. Since then, I’ve only plunged myself deeper into my depression. Every day was a matter of going from A to B, then repeating it all over again. Cyra had given me something to look forward to each night, and now it’s all gone.

Even after two fucking years, the pain didn’t get any better. All the drink does is put it off for a while before it comes back to haunt me in the morning time. Everything in my life has just gotten worse.

I still had my job down at Le Lazurt though I no longer cared, sometimes just letting the drunkards there do what they wanted. I no longer converse with the owner, Benshobe Gildumal, after doing what he did. To this day, I still can’t believe he sold Cyra out to save his own ass.

I walk through the backstage area, patrolling like I normally do and making sure everything’s in order. I scan my eyes across the various members of the staff, silently yet hopelessly praying to myself that one night, Cyra will show up amongst them.

“Lykan!” calls a woman’s voice from behind me.

I turn around, for a split moment thinking that I’m about to see Cyra standing there with outstretched arms. It turns out to be one of the other staff members.

“Can you help me out at the bar?” she asks.

“I’m no good at making drinks, just consuming them.”

“Not for that you grump, there’s some drunk asshole causing trouble and harassing others at the bar.”

“Okay, lead me to him.”

I follow the girl to the bar, where I spot the drunkard almost immediately. He leans over the counter, trying to serve himself another drink.

“You can’t do that,” says a customer sitting beside him.

“The fuck?” hisses the drunk, spinning around to face him. “Are you trying to tell me what to do?”

“Hey!” I yell out, startling him.

He turns around with a surprised expression.

“Yeah?” he groans before burping.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight pal. Why don’t you have some water instead?”

“I ain’t drinking that piss. Now go get me another zhisk, there’ll be a nice tip in it for you.”

Rolling my eyes, I step closer, looking over him.

“I’m not your fucking bartender. You’re going to do as I say or you’re getting kicked out, do you understand?” I snarl.

“Someone’s on their fucking period,” he jeers. His eyes widen at seeing the bartender standing behind me. “Say baby, you’re looking pretty sexy, how much for an hour?”

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