The night had passed in eerie silence after the tavern brawl. Dawn light seeped through the cracks of the worn wooden shutters, casting narrow beams across the battered floor. The scent of blood, burnt meat, and spilled ale still lingered.
Kael stirred awake on the creaky bed, letting out a low grunt as he stretched his limbs. His body ached slightly from the fight, but a good sleep had numbed the soreness. He yawned and cracked his neck lazily.
Beside him, Lyria lay sprawled on the mattress, her hair a fiery mess and her mouth open slightly. Soft snores escaped her lips, one leg tangled in the bedsheet, the other dangling off the edge. A half-empty mug sat on the floor beside her, long gone warm.
Kael stared at her, bewildered.
"How can one be this drunk from one sip…" he muttered, running his hand through his messy hair.
