The Ballad of Carlia Havannah 3 & 4

III - Whispers in the Storm

The storm continued to rage outside, the howling wind and relentless rain pounding against the tavern’s thick wooden walls. Inside, the warmth of the hearth and the cheerful hum of the crowd offered a stark contrast to the chaos beyond. Carlia Havannah had just finished her second song, the lively tune lifting the spirits of the patrons. As she strummed the final chord and the applause erupted, she caught sight of Alden, the mysterious stranger who had saved her earlier.

He was seated in the same shadowed corner. His gaze steady and unreadable as he watched her. There was something in his eyes—an intensity that sent a shiver through her, not of fear, but something deeper, something she couldn't quite name. She placed her lute on the stool on the stage and, after exchanging pleasantries with a few enthusiastic patrons, made her way toward him.

“May I join you?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with the confidence of someone used to commanding attention.

Alden looked up, a faint smile touching his lips. “I was hoping you would.”

Carlia slid into the seat across from him, the small table between them lit only by the dim glow of a nearby candle. The noise of the tavern seemed to fade into the background as she settled into the quiet, intimate space they now shared.

“You’ve a voice like an angel,” Alden said, his tone low and sincere. “It’s no wonder the crowd can’t get enough of you.”

Carlia felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, not just from the compliment, but from the way he looked at her—as if he saw something more than just the bard adored by many. She was used to flattery, to patrons showering her with kind words and admiration, but this was different. Alden’s words carried weight, a depth that made her feel… seen.

“Thank you,” she replied, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “I’ve sung in many places, but tonight felt… different.”

He raised an eyebrow, curious. “How so?”

Carlia hesitated for a moment, unsure how to explain the strange sense of anticipation that had filled her during her performance. She had felt his eyes on her the whole time, and it had made her aware of every note, every strum of her lute in a way that was both exhilarating and unnerving.

“Maybe it’s the storm,” she said with a soft laugh, trying to brush aside the feeling. “Or maybe it’s just that I’ve never performed for someone like you before.”

Alden’s smile widened slightly, though it was tinged with something bittersweet. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m no different from any other traveler seeking shelter from the storm.”

“But you are, aren’t you?” Carlia said, her voice quieter now, more serious. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she met his gaze head-on. “You saved me earlier, and not just from a rude interruption. There was something about those men… they weren’t ordinary. And neither are you.”

Alden’s expression faltered for a moment, as if she had touched on something he wasn’t ready to reveal. He glanced down at his hands, which were clasped loosely on the table, before looking back at her.

“You’re perceptive,” he said. “More so than most.”

Carlia tilted her head, studying him. She had always prided herself on her ability to read people—it was a skill honed from years of performing for crowds, of knowing how to captivate and hold their attention. But Alden was different. There was a wall around him, something carefully hidden beneath his calm exterior, and it intrigued her more than she wanted to admit.

“What’s your story, Alden?” she asked, her voice soft, almost pleading. “I’ve sung about heroes and villains, wanderers and kings, but I can’t place you. And I want to.”

For a moment, Alden didn’t answer. He seemed to be weighing his options, deciding how much to reveal—or whether to reveal anything at all. The candlelight flickered between them, casting fleeting shadows on his face.

“I’m… no one of consequence,” he said at last, though the way he said it made Carlia doubt his words immediately. “Just a man trying to keep moving, to stay ahead of things better left behind.”

His words were vague, but they carried a heaviness that made Carlia’s heart ache. She could sense the burden he carried, the weight of something in his past that he wasn’t ready to share. But instead of pressing him, she simply nodded, allowing the silence between them to stretch for a moment longer.

“And you?” Alden asked, turning the conversation back to her. “You’ve traveled far, haven’t you? Your songs speak of places most people only dream of.”

Carlia smiled, grateful for the change in subject. “I’ve been lucky enough to see a bit of the world,” she said. “From the bustling streets of Shaalizar to the quiet villages along the River Valley. It’s not always glamorous, but it’s a life I’ve chosen. A life I love.”

“And yet, you seem… restless.”

His observation caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Restless. It wasn’t a word she would have used to describe herself, but as she thought about it, she realized there was truth in it. Despite the joy she found in her music, despite the love she received from the crowds, there was always a part of her that felt unsettled, as if she were searching for something she couldn’t quite name.

“I suppose I am,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I’ve always been searching for something—maybe even someone. But I don’t know what it is. Or who.”

Alden’s gaze softened, and for the first time since she had sat down, Carlia felt a connection between them that went beyond the superficial. There was an understanding there, a shared sense of searching, of longing. It was a quiet moment, but it was profound.

But as quickly as the moment came, it passed. Alden’s expression shifted, and he glanced toward the window where the storm still raged outside. He seemed to be listening for something, though Carlia couldn’t hear anything beyond the wind and rain.

“I should go,” Alden said suddenly, his voice tight.

Carlia’s heart sank. “Already?”

He nodded, rising from his seat. “There are things I need to take care of. But…” He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her. “I have a feeling our paths will cross again.”

Carlia stood as well, her mind racing with a dozen unspoken questions, but none that she could bring herself to ask. Instead, she simply nodded, her throat tight with emotions she couldn’t quite name. “Be careful out there,” she said softly.

Alden gave her a small, almost sad smile. “You too, Carlia.”

With that, he turned and made his way toward the door, his dark cloak swirling around him as he pushed it open and stepped into the storm. For a moment, Carlia stood there, watching as the door swung shut behind him, the wind howling in his wake.

IV - HeartSong

The door swung shut behind Alden, and Carlia was left standing in the dim light of the tavern, the warmth of the fire doing little to chase the chill settling in her bones. The wind howled outside, a mournful, endless sound that seemed to echo the emptiness she now felt. Her mind swirled with thoughts of him—of Alden, the enigmatic stranger who had saved her, spoken to her with such intensity, and left as suddenly as he had come.

She glanced toward the stage, the familiar space now seeming foreign in the wake of their conversation. The crowd, still buzzing with the excitement of her earlier songs, was waiting for her next performance. Their cheers had died down, replaced by quiet murmurs, the tension in the air palpable. The music was the only thing that could fill the silence now. But even as she moved to take her place on the stage, Carlia felt something stirring within her—something deep and unbidden.

Her lute was still resting on the stool on the stage, untouched. She picked it up, her fingers feeling strangely light as she adjusted the strings. The crowd was still waiting, their expectant gazes fixed upon her, but Carlia wasn’t thinking of them. She was thinking of Alden. Of how his eyes had held hers, how his words had made her heart ache in ways she didn’t understand. She was thinking of the storm that raged outside—of the path he had walked into the night, and whether she would ever see him again.

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, the weight of her unspoken words pressing down on her. She took a deep breath, her fingers brushing across the strings of her lute as if to quiet the rising storm within. She wasn’t sure what song would come—only that it had to come. And so, she began.

At first, the notes were soft, tentative. The crowd grew quiet, sensing the change in her mood. But as her fingers found the rhythm, as the melody began to take shape, something shifted. The song came from somewhere deep within her, a place she hadn’t known existed. It wasn’t planned, nor was it something she had ever sung before. It was as if the very act of playing had unlocked the emotions she had buried for so long, and now, they poured out in a song she hadn’t known she was capable of.

The words came slowly at first, but as her voice filled the tavern, they began to flow more naturally, as though her heart were singing them rather than her mouth. Each line seemed to stretch into the next, as if the melody had a life of its own, guiding her.

“In the storm I stand alone,
Searching for the heart I’ve never known,
Through the winds and the rain,
I feel your presence, hear your name.”

“With each breath, a quiet sigh,
As the dark clouds pass me by,
And though I seek, I cannot find,
The shadow of you left behind.”

“But still I sing, still I wait,
And carry the love that seals my fate,
In every note, in every sound,
I feel you near, though you’re not found.”

“And if the winds could carry me,
I’d follow you, wherever you be,
Through the night, through the storm,
Until my heart is safe and warm.”

“For in this song, my love is true,
I sing it all, just for you,
In the quiet of the night’s embrace,
I reach for you, to find your face.”

“Oh, Alden, can you hear my call?
Can you feel my love, in the storm’s fall?
Through the darkness, I send this plea,
Come back to me, come back to me.”

“And when the storm is done and gone,
When the skies are clear, and the dawn is drawn,
I’ll still be here, waiting still,
With a heart that’s yours, if you will.”

“In the storm I stand alone,
But I’ll love you, always, on my own.”

As Carlia sang, her voice grew stronger, her fingers pressing harder on the strings. The words poured from her as if the very song were an offering—a gift of love and longing that had no words, no explanation. She was singing not for the crowd, but for Alden. She was singing to the storm, hoping, praying, that somehow, he would hear her, feel her, even in the wild darkness outside.

The tavern was still, as if held in some magical trance. The patrons, who had been eagerly awaiting their next dose of entertainment, were now transfixed by her voice. They leaned forward, hanging on every note, every word. There was a palpable energy in the room, a quiet awe that spoke of something deeper than just a talented performer. They could feel the truth in her song, the rawness of the emotion behind it.

Carlia’s eyes were closed now, lost in the music, lost in the memory of Alden’s gaze, the way his presence had felt so real and yet so fleeting. She didn’t see the way the wind outside seemed to howl louder as she sang, or the way the rain began to fall in torrents against the windows. She didn’t notice that the storm outside, which had seemed so distant before, now seemed to answer her song—picking up in intensity, as if her very words were reaching out through the night, seeking the one person she needed.

The song echoed through the streets of Jugathon, winding its way through narrow alleys and across damp cobblestones, as if the melody itself were a living thing, spreading through the city like a warm breath in the cold night air. It was a call, a summons—a love song that sought its lost object through the storm. Carlia sang without thinking, her heart in every note, her body trembling with the emotion of it all.

And somewhere, out in the rain, a man walked through the darkened streets, his cloak swirling around him as he moved with purpose, with an unshakable certainty that he wasn’t alone. The song seemed to reach him, a whisper on the wind, tugging at his soul. His name was carried on the air, though he could not say how he knew it.

Alden paused in his steps, the storm surrounding him, and for the first time, he listened—truly listened. The song, her song, called to him, as if it were made for him. He turned back toward the tavern, and a strange feeling rose in his chest, a feeling that he had not expected, one that made him ache for what he had left behind.

But as quickly as it came, the moment passed. He shook his head, as if shaking off the feeling, and continued on into the night, though his steps were slower now.

Inside the tavern, Carlia finished the last notes of her song. Her fingers trembled as they left the lute’s strings, her chest heavy with the weight of what she had sung. She opened her eyes, the silence in the room deafening. The crowd sat in stunned silence, unsure of what they had just witnessed.

And in that silence, Carlia knew. She had reached him. Somehow, she had reached him. And though the storm still raged outside, she felt, for the first time, a quiet certainty. This was not the end.

This was just the beginning.

Chapters 3 & 4

The Ballad of Carlia Havannah