"W-Wait… Vaelor?" he asked, confusion creeping into his voice. What do you mean by talking to me?
"I mean," Vaelor said, you should understand it as if you're speaking to animals. Every creature has its own language. Humans, beasts, spirits—each realm has its own tongue.
Perun frowned. "So… every realm has different languages?"
"Exactly." Vaelor nodded. But I can speak in any of them. The other Heralds, however, cannot. They understand all languages… but they cannot speak them. Not properly, at least.
Perun raised an eyebrow. "Heralds? There are more like you?"
Vaelor let out a tired exhale, as if explaining this was a burden he had carried for too long.
"In the Realm of Dominion," he began, people are divided into four hierarchical groups.
His voice grew more formal, almost rehearsed.
The lowest are the Heralds. They follow instructions from those above them—nothing more. They do not make decisions.
Perun listened carefully, though the information felt overwhelming.
Above the Heralds are the Omen Binders, Vaelor continued. "They possess greater power, status, and authority. They command Heralds and travel between realms, but only to observe and ensure the accuracy of information. They are forbidden from interfering with anything."
So both Heralds and Omen Binders are just… watchers? Perun asked.
"Exactly. They have no right to involve themselves in mortal affairs.
Vaelor's tone darkened as he moved to the next rank.
Next are the Duskbringer of the Last Mandate. Unlike the others, they act. When they descend, they bring calamities—storms, plagues, disasters. They are the hands of the Final Mandate's judgement.
Perun swallowed, stunned.
This was too much—too many strange names, too much lore, too unreal. It felt like he had stepped into someone else's fantasy world.
Vaelor finally sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"So, Perun… do you have any questions?"
Perun opened his mouth, then closed it again. His mind spun with terms like Heralds, Omen Binders, and Duskbringers. It was hard to accept any of this. Harder still to believe the man in front of him wasn't joking.
"Honestly?" Perun muttered. Nah… I'm tired. My brain's fried. I was going to ask a lot but...
His eyes slowly shifted to the side of the room.
Vaelor glanced around the cramped, dimly lit room, then looked back at Perun with a pleading expression.
"Perun," he said softly, "it's the middle of the night… and I don't have anywhere else to go. Could I… stay here for tonight?"
His voice carried genuine sincerity, almost gentle.
Perun hesitated for a moment, but he was far too exhausted to think deeply.
"Yeah… sure," he muttered. You can stay.
Vaelor's eyes brightened immediately. With a small, almost shy smile, he lifted his hand in a playful gesture and said, half-blushing:
…there's only one bed in this apartment.
If you don't mind… we could even share the bed.
Perun froze, his expression turning completely weird and stiff.
"N-No. Absolutely not," he said, backing away slightly. "I can sleep on the floor."
Both of them turned to look at the floor.
A puddle of rainwater shimmered faintly under the window, soaking into the dust and papers scattered around the room. The rest of the floor wasn't much better—cold, hard, and uncomfortable.
Their eyes slowly met again.
Perun narrowed his gaze suspiciously.
"Wait… you crashed through my window in the rain. How are you dry already?"
He thought it might be some sort of divine power.
Perun blinked.
And how did your clothes not get wet?
We use spells to clean them," Vaelor explained casually. Though I don't think I can dry them perfectly.
Perun sighed. "…Magic. Right."
He rubbed his forehead.
Fine. We need to sleep. I'll sleep on the chair. You take the bed.
Vaelor tried to protest, shaking his head. No, no, I cannot let you—
"It's fine," Perun insisted. "Just sleep."
After a moment of resistance, Vaelor finally gave in.
Perun dragged the old wooden chair toward the corner and sat down, trying to make himself comfortable. Vaelor lay down on the narrow bed, pulling the thin blanket over half his body.
Within minutes, both were drifting into sleep—Perun exhausted, Vaelor quietly watching the dim room fade into darkness.
An antique clock hanging on the wall ticked softly, its golden hands pointing to 4:30 A.M.
The storm outside finally began to calm.
And the night—strange, chaotic, and unexpected—came to its quiet end.