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Despite its simplicity, the room had a charm of its own.
The quiet creak of the wooden floor beneath my boots, the scent of aged timber mixed with the faintly sweet smell of hay, the sight of well-worn furniture — they all contributed to a sense of homely comfort.
Opening the window, I let the cool night air waft in.
The neighboring moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced on the barren landscape.
A gust of wind brought with it the crisp scent of the desert, a blend of dry dust and unknown flora, tinged with the briny smell of the distant sea.
Suddenly, the faint sounds of merriment from below seemed to grow louder.
The soft hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter, filled the room.
The sounds were accompanied by the comforting smellof cooking food, the aromas wafting up from the inn’s kitchen.
Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to take in the sights, sounds and smells of the inn.
The simplicity of it was soothing.
The realities of my mission came rushing back, but they felt distant, somehow less significant within these humble walls.
The room’sspartan nature was like a soothing balm on my overwrought senses.
Despite its simplicity, it offered a comfort that my lavish royal quarters never could — the comfort of anonymity, of being just another traveler seeking refuge from the world outside.
The small washbasin, positioned against one wall, beckoned invitingly.
Shedding my outer robes, I approached it.
A simple mirror hung above, its surface tarnished with age but still capable of giving a decent reflection.
With a small sigh, I splashed some water onto my face.
The scent of the water, pure and undefiled, was surprisingly comforting.
My hands, large and calloused from years of training, moved with practiced ease, washing away the dust of travel.
Lifting my gaze, I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
I was a Chi — a member of a race known for its physical prowess and survivalinstincts.
At six feet eight inches, I stood taller than most of my kind.
My scales, a rich sapphire hue, shimmered under the light, their brilliance accentuated by the dark robes I typically wore.
They were a living, breathing part of me, a second skin that was as much a part of my identity as my thoughts and emotions.
Protruding from my head, just above my temples, were my horns.
They were black, long, and twisted.
They symbolized my strength and status within my society.
As well as a sign of maturity and a mark of pride.
My eyes, a deep golden color, were reflective of the Chi’s intellect.
Their iridescent glow lent me a disarming quality, a striking feature that seemed to fascinate most off-worlders I encountered.
