Whispers echoed off the stone walls, though they sounded far away from him. Words couldn’t be made out, but in the temple of the gods, Koro assumed they were that of prayers and confessions.

  He traced the wall, counting the bricks as they scraped against his fingers. Twenty-two more and he would run into the Room of Confessions.

  The smell of incense often gave him a sense of peace, imagining the heavens had a similar aroma. The familiar feel of polished wood met his hand, and he opened the door.

  He sat on the plush cushion, feeling its many threads below him.

  A knock came from the door, as it always did.

  “Who do you wish to speak your wrongs to?” the voice asked, his voice low and steady.

  “Priest Yohric, if he is available.” Koro replied through a cough.

  “May the gods bless you.”

  Minutes passed until he heard the door across the Room of Confessions open, then close.

  “How are you, child of wrongs?”

  “I am well, Priest Yohric.”

  “I am glad to hear your voice again, as are the gods. I assume you have no wrongs to confess this day?” Yohric said.

  “Of course not,” Koro said with a grin. “I’m here for my daily socialization, as always.”

  “You know, most people would ask to speak over an ale. You are the first to prefer the Room of Confessions.” Yohric’s voice softened as if he were making a joke.

  “Well, I am not like most people. I prefer a comfy pillow beneath me, and a room full of nobody.”

  “I assume you don’t have many friends here in the city then?”

  “I have friends,” Koro said, pausing just long enough to make it a lie. “They're just made of leather and stuffed full of paper.”

  “Ah. So you enjoy reading? After weeks of speaking, that is nearly all I’ve learned about you,” Yohric said.

  “Maybe I like the mystique.”

  “I, too, have little friends in this city, so I am burdened by loneliness as well,” Yohric admitted. “I moved here from the capital a month ago, and you’re the closest to a friend I’ve made. I am free later in the day if you would like to keep me company?”

  Koro’s mouth moved to say yes, but the words wouldn’t come. Silence settled as he hung his head low.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “What is it?” Yohric pried.

  “I’m not well liked around The Shade. It may cause you problems being seen with me.” Koro’s speech stuttered, though he doubted Yohric had caught it.

  “I’m a priest in a city full of those the gods rejected; most pay no mind to me. I’ve come to quite enjoy our talks, so I wouldn’t be bothered with who looks our way.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to see them, so that makes two of us.”

  “Is that your affliction? Kissed by the Blind One?”

  He hesitated, unsure how to answer. Picking at one of the many sores on his body, he said, “It is. I believe she kissed me too hard if you ask me.”

  A chuckle broke from Yohric. “Is this the day you finally share your name with me?”

  He didn’t let hesitation hold him back this time. With fists clenched, he said, “Koro. My name is Koro.”

  “If it interests you, I will be stopping at the tavern in the square in about two hours.” Koro heard Yohric open the door and step out of the room. “Ask for my name at the bar if you can make it. They will inform me that you’ve arrived.”

  Koro stood, a smile stamped across his face, and left the Room of Confessions. “That may be nice.”

  He ran his fingers over the bricks, retracing the steps toward the exit.

  The cold steel of the railing startled him as he grasped it. It was always cold, but other than that, he was thankful for it.

  Railings lined every street in the city since so many in The Shade were blind. House numbers and stores were marked in braille, directing the sightless around the city.

  In five short minutes, he found his home. A voice from behind shocked him as he fumbled to unlock the door.

  “Excuse me, sir. Can you lend me your ear for a moment?” His voice sounded rough and splintered, like wood scraping against stone.

  “And who is it I’d be lending my ear to?” Koro asked, a loud sigh followed.

  “My name is Dandric, and I have a proposition for you.” He heard the man’s feet shuffle closer to him. “Could we talk in private?”

  Koro groaned and shook his head. “I’m assuming you know who I am, and no one chooses to speak with me if they can help it. So what is it you wish to discuss?”

  “To get to the point,” Dandric said, his voice shrinking to a whisper, “I know of a way to cure all afflictions, and curing you would be more helpful for business than hiring a city crier."

  “Yes, and so does every other scam artist that has attempted to swindle me. I have no money. Even if I were gullible enough to hear you out, I’m a poor choice to milk coin from.” Koro turned back and opened his door.

  “I’m not here for your coin. I’m here because I have a real cure.”

  “Oh! Is this cure a free gift? Very gracious of you,” he said, not trying to veil his annoyance.

  “I understand this isn’t the first time you’ve been offered something too good to be true, but what I can show you is more believable than anything I might tell you. May Mortuus strike me to hell if I lie.”

  “I have plans later and still have much reading I’d like to get done. If you must, come by on a different day, but be sure to bring your free, ‘cure-all’, medicine.” Koro shut the door before Dandric could respond.

  It wasn’t the first time he had heard a stranger claim to have a cure, and it wouldn’t be the last. Koro had always assumed they targeted the blind for easy pickings.

  The air was stale, his bed hard—but it was his. Anxiety rattled his insides, his hands shook as he tapped the spine of his favorite book.

  Koro tried to read, but the words wouldn’t register. He’d gone to taverns before, but always in his own company.

  “Never imagined the first person to invite me for drinks would be a priest,” he said, lowering his head onto a cold pillow. He couldn’t decide whether to laugh at fate or to curse its name.

  But will Yohric still be so kind when I share my secret?