A Difficult Decision

You awaken the next morning alone but feeling more well-rested than you have in years. The faint scent of fresh bread and cheese lingers in the air, drawing your attention to a small plate left on the table beside the bed. A pitcher of water sits beside it, condensation beading on its surface. Realizing you haven’t eaten since leaving your hotel nearly two days ago, you quickly devour the food, savoring the simple yet satisfying meal.

Afterward, you step outside, squinting against the morning sun. The farm is quiet, save for the distant clucking of chickens and the low murmur of livestock. You find Sarah in the barn, sitting gingerly on a stool as she carefully milks a large cow. She looks up as you approach, her face breaking into a warm smile.

“Sleep well?” she asks, her voice soft but cheerful.

You smile back, appreciating her sincerity. “Better than I have in a long time.”

She chuckles, her hands still working rhythmically. “I must admit,” she says, her tone turning playful, “I’m no virgin, but what you did to me last night left me wondering if I’d ever truly been with a man.” She shakes her head, a wry grin spreading across her face. “Here I was worried that I’d break you, but...” She shifts uncomfortably on the stool, wincing slightly. “Based on how sore I am, perhaps I’m the one who was broken.”

“Sorry about that,” you say, though your tone is more amused than apologetic.

She laughs, a rich, genuine sound that fills the barn. “Why on earth would you be sorry? It feels like a burden has been lifted from me. I should be thanking you.”

The two of you while away the morning in easy conversation, sharing stories and laughter. But as the sun climbs higher in the sky, you notice the smile begin to slip from her face. Her hands slow, and she looks at you with a mixture of sadness and resignation.

“I suppose you’ll be on your way soon?” she asks, her voice tinged with melancholy.

You nod, feeling a pang of guilt. “I need to find a way back to my own land,” you explain. “I have people back home who care about me, and they’ll worry if I’m gone for too long.” You pause, then gesture in the direction of the rocky outcropping you’d emerged from the day before. “Do you by chance know of a cave a few miles down the road?”

Her eyes widen slightly, and her expression grows serious. “You mustn’t go there,” she says firmly. “That is a place of evil.”

“Evil?” you ask, intrigued.

She sighs, setting aside the milk pail and turning to face you fully. “I’m no scholar,” she begins, “but every child in Askeria learns the legends.” She pauses, her gaze distant as if recalling the tales from memory. “Thousands of years ago, the finest warriors the world has ever seen, led by God Queen Elisia, traveled through that cave into another world.”

You listen in rapt attention as she recounts the story. She tells you of the fierce battles fought, the unimaginable horrors faced, and how, in the end, only the Queen’s eldest daughter, Ariel, managed to return. “It was she who founded the Queendom of Askeria,” Sarah continues, her voice solemn. “Her first act as queen was to collapse the entrance to the cave, ensuring that whatever beasts annihilated her mother’s armies could never threaten this land.”

She finishes with a rueful laugh, shaking her head. “That was thousands of years ago, though. Who knows how much of it is true and how much is just a fairytale?”

You consider her words, the weight of the legend settling over you. But before you can respond, Sarah hesitates, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I know this is premature,” she says shyly, “but you could stay with me.” She looks up at you, her grey eyes hopeful. “I may be a widow, but I’m still young and a good provider. I could use a good partner to run this farm, and Goddess willing, I’d very much like to have children of my own one day—someone to pass this farm down to.”

Her offer hangs in the air, sincere and tempting. You meet her gaze, seeing the vulnerability and hope in her eyes, and for a moment, you find yourself sorely tempted to accept.