Rowel sat half-folded on the pale surface of the void, blinking as he looked up at her. His arms rested lazily over his knees, shoulders slouched, as he couldn't stand up at all because he couldn't from all the exhaustion, especially when he didn't sleep for almost two days.
Ravenne's eyes lingered on him a moment longer.
She didn't move her hands or lower her chin. She simply stood still.
When she spoke, her voice returned with that quiet weight, smooth and near, not gentle.
❝You want to rest.❞
Rowel blinked. That wasn't a question either. Still, he hesitated, as his eyes narrowed just slightly while trying to focus his gaze on her, since it was quite blurry and his eyes were getting easily dehydrated.
"Not particularly eager to snooze in the literal embodiment of cosmic judgment, no," he muttered.
Her gaze remained steady.
❝You haven't closed your eyes since you arrived.❞
He opened his mouth to respond, then paused, because she was right. He hadn't. Not even once. He didn't even have a choice. He's been keeping himself up in fear that if he fell asleep, who knows what would happen to him next.
Little did he know that she wasn't planning to eat him if he slept, as he had thought. She only watched him waste his time and her time with stupid maneuvers.
Sleep here… wasn't rest. It felt like surrender.
He remembered how everytime he tried to conjure sonething to eat, it would immediately turn into nothingness due to the effect of this realm. Only one thing never decayed, weirdly. Cereal.
Everything would turn to either dust or air that wasn't there. But cereal? It just stayed there. Which wasn't too bad for him, sinve he wouldn't mind having cereal for life. Well, not exactly.
He nodded, slowly before responding back.
"Fair point."
Then, with a voice that cracked under his usual sarcasm, he added, "I don't really know what happens if I do though."
That earned him something he hadn't expected. A whisper of motion, barely perceptible. She stepped forward, not close, but enough to be felt. The space between them drew taut. Then she spoke again, quieter this time.
❝I can give you sleep.❞
He tilted his head.
"…Give?"
❝Without consequence… or in other words,❞ She paused ❝Without being eaten, by who-knows-what.❞ That last sentence hit like a ripple in still water.
He stared at her, quite frankly more suspecious than before, then his voice lowered. "…What's the catch?"
❝A game.❞
She said it like it was nothing. Something of his own interest.
❝If you win, you may rest here. For as long as you need.❞
"And if I fail?"
Her lips moved, but there was no smile. No shift of air. Just words like frost.
❝Then you sleep anyway.❞
He stared.
"…and?" He hesitated before asking.
❝But not here.❞
The moment she said that, his face was immediately equipped with a surge of anxiety, and that was the last thing he wanted. He didn't know what would she gain, but did it matter?
Nothing made sense when it came to dealing with Ravenne. Everything she did made no sense other than chaos.
"Lady… for once, do something that doesn't involve burning me or turning me into soup. I'm tired."
Suddenly, the void began to shift, it folded inward, like fabric.
Rowel blinked once, and the pale ground beneath his feet melted into polished wood. The stars above dimmed and gave way to stone arches, ancient and uneven.
Now, surrounded by walls that were old and tall, the room was lit only by flickering golden light that crawled out from a narrow hearth at the far end.
At the other end there was a library, if you could call it that. But not the kind one finds anywhere. The books were too silent, no titles or glyphs on their covers.
Two chairs, one at either end of a long, dark table that looked less like seats and more like thrones made to be sat in during long confessions.
The lamp cast everything in honeyed gold, and somehow this felt oddly warm, compared to where they were a second ago.
Ravenne appeared at the far end of the room, where her chair waited for her.
She did not sit, yet.
Rowel rubbed his eyes again, sluggish and blinking.
"What… is this?"
She looked at him, and for once, there was almost—almost—something nostalgic in her tone.
❝It has always been here.❞
He frowned slightly.
"Right, okay," He touched the back of one of the books on the shelves, and it didn't feel like an illusion at all. "Old, vintage. Love that."
Slowly, as he looked around again… the silence told him more than her words.
There was dust on the far shelf that felt a bit too confusing. The corners of the table had been worn down by use, not decay.
Rowel's eyes narrowed, upon realising that this place wasn't conjured.
He didn't say it aloud. Not yet. But something in the back of his throat curled as he stepped forward.
Ravenne lowered herself into the tall chair like she was stepping into a throne.
Not a movement wasted, not a rustle out of place. Her robe poured over the edges of the seat like spilled ink, and the firelight kissed her figure.
She sat with her legs crossed, spine straight, fingers resting atop the table in complete serenity. Like the room centered itself around her once she took her place.
Rowel followed with a step that didn't match the weight of the moment. His gait was casual, unbothered, though his shoulders were loose due to the fatigue.
He circled the table a little before slumping into the opposite seat. The chair creaked as he adjusted himself into it.
He scanned the shelves again, then glanced at her.
"So…?" he asked, arms folded across the table. "Is this a date, m'lady? Cause if it is, then you caught me completely off-guard—"
❝Look.❞
Her voice cut in, it was low and clear, as she pointed.
He blinked and turned his gaze downward, and to his surprise he saw a deck of cards on his side of the table. They hadn't been there a second ago.
"Oh...?"
He leaned back slightly, brows raised. "Are you suggesting we play.. cards?."
Ravenne didn't even blink. Instead, she gestured to the cards again, this time with a flick of her fingers—like pushing a breeze.
❝Oh no trickster, they are not just any.. cards.❞
The way she called him a trickster, suggested that this isn't something he or his magic can trample with. He had his doubts, but chose to listen until the end.
Rowel squinted at them, then directed his gaze back at Ravenne.
❝Nine cards. Eight hold an outcome that will greet you, should you sleep. One,❞ she paused, with her voice almost dipping,❝offers rest without consequence.❞
He eyed the cards warily. "A one in nine chance. Generous. What did I expect again?"
❝You speak so casually to me now Rowel, did you perhaps lose your mind, or is it just sleep deprivation?❞ She asked, with almost a smirk forming on the corner of her lips, as if to mock him.
"Ravenne, if I expected mercy and sleep from you, would I get it?"
❝Perhaps.❞
"Exactly!" He almost rolled his eyes, as if now he had gotten used to the impending torture she always had up her selves. She didn't react at all, just stared at his dried orbs, and the sacks that formed underneath them from lack of sleep.
❝Three flips. If you find the blank card, you may rest. If not, on the fourth card—the one you do not choose—Then you sleep with whatever comes with it.❞
He stared at the deck for a moment. This was definitely another gamble for his life, but how he would pull it up was nearly too hard now since even his magic doesn't work too well in this room.
"So it is a date. You just like high-stakes relationships."
She would have rolled her eyes if she knew the gesture would express her disappointment in this madman.
Rowel stared at the deck for a few long seconds. Nine cards. Three flips. One chance.
Of course this would be any magician's nightmare. The absence of the magic factor in their tricks.
His fingers hovered near the first card, but he didn't touch it yet. Instead, he leaned back in his chair with an overly casual motion, arms folded, ankle resting on his knee.
Then he lifted one hand, index finger pointed dramatically toward her.
"Alright," he declared, "How about this…" He wagged his finger "Just one rule. My rule."
She blinked once, with no change in expression.
He went on.
"No peeking into my thoughts while I play. That's cheating."
He nodded sharply at his own words, then gestured broadly to the deck like a game show host.
"I mean, come on. I've got no magic. No tricks. All I've got left is raw instinct and the dumb miracle called luck. So if you're out here peering into my skull while I'm flipping cards, then this game was rigged from the start."
Silence. The kind that felt like the walls themselves were judging him.
Her voice came, low, smooth, and lined with that subtle cruelty only she could wrap in elegance.
❝You sit at my table. On my ground. In my realm.❞ She paused. ❝And yet you attempt to place conditions.❞
Rowel shrugged casually.
"If I won't wake up again in case I lose. Might as well play a nice game before slipping away right?"
Suddenly a sound came from her, so softly it might've been imagined. It escapes her lips. A quiet, brief breath through the nose.
Ravenne was more than just curious now, but amused.
❝Very well.❞ Her fingers lifted an inch off the table. ❝I won't look.❞
❝Your choices. Your fate.❞ She leaned back in her seat.
Now only left with wit, it was time for another show. Just to sleep…
"Mama mia… That worked?"