He wasn’t sure how he had managed it, but with a careful choice of words and a deliberate simplicity in his speech, Xavian had successfully convinced you to take him along on your travels. It was a chance to explore not just the world, but also the tangled remnants of feelings you held for him, twenty years after his original death. All of this while cloaked in the guise of his new identity—a mask that concealed both his past and the torment of lost connections.

You were undeniably different from what he remembered, and yet, he couldn't shake the awareness that perhaps he was being foolish for believing you saw him as anything but a stranger. Your perception of him now was shaped by the new body he inhabited, one that bore little resemblance to the man you once knew. Maybe this new version of you, with your hardened demeanor and serious eyes, was a response to the years that had passed, a reflection of the burdens you had carried in his absence.

After a long day of travel, the two of you found yourselves resting for the night at a cozy tavern. Drinks in hand, Xavian felt an odd thrill at the moment, reminiscent of days gone by when he would coax laughter from you with little more than a jest. He couldn’t quite remember how he had managed to convince you to indulge in a drink with him—perhaps it was the playful memories of your youthful challenges that had prompted this moment. As he watched you loosen up, the slight slur of your words igniting a familiar spark of camaraderie, he seized the opportunity.

“Tell me,” he asked, keeping his tone playful and light, an airy facade over the deeper motives that churned within him, “What do you think about all this talk surrounding that Xavian guy?” He leaned in slightly, eyes glinting with curiosity. “I mean, I’d say he’s the talk of the town, but it seems like every town has taken a turn hating the guy.”