Ahead, a structure materialized from the gloom. It was dark, but the golden light bleeding from openings, small and large, told Allan he had arrived. The force beyond his own will pushed him forward; this had to be his destination. As he reached the door and lifted his hand to knock, it swung open, as if in answer to a question he hadn't yet asked.
A man emerged, his form a stark silhouette against the light spilling from within. An edgy sense of familiarity washed over Allan. He didn't know where he had seen the man, but he was sure he had. Control returned to his limbs, but relief did not follow. He was, after all, standing before a stranger's house in the dead of night.
"Come in, young man."
With that invitation, the memory clicked into place. The voice. Just before the path had forced him on this detour, he had met this man. He didn't know what the man had done, but he was certain he was the reason for the unnatural pull toward this house. While the silhouette hid the man's face, his terrifying voice was unmistakable.
"What did you do to me?" Allan asked, taking a cautious step back.
"I only led you to your destiny. Come in." The man beckoned nonchalantly.
"I was on my way to my destiny before I met you," Allan countered. "If the one you speak of is not my own, then you have wasted your time. I will take my leave."
"You are lonely. Isn't that why you travel?"
Allan didn't answer, but the firelight caught the shock on his face. The man continued, "I saw your desolation from afar. You are desperately in need of a woman. That is why I brought you here."
"Lulu... is she here?" Allan breathed the name, and fear pricked at his heart.
Lulu had been gone for years. They were children when they met, and now she was a woman shaped by a life he knew nothing about. Perhaps she had long forgotten him, living her life as if he never existed. What would he even say to her after so long?
"We will speak of that later. Come in and warm yourself. You are hungry."
Trying to mask his apprehension, Allan stepped inside, finally able to see his unexpected host. The man wore a coarse brown robe, tied loosely at the waist. His face, etched with fine lines, seemed to belong to someone who had seen much, though his expression was unnervingly calm. The firelight danced across his features, casting flickering shadows that made him seem half-rooted in another world.
"I don't even know your name," Allan said quietly, his voice laced with caution and a spark of curiosity.
"My name is not important," the man replied, kneeling by the fire. "Only the name you carry—the one that leads you into the unknown."
Allan leaned forward. "Lulu. You know her?"
The man looked at him, neither agreeing nor denying. "So, it is important, I see."
"She's here, then?" Allan asked, unable to stop the hopeful crack in his voice.
A pause stretched, long enough for hope to anchor itself in Allan's chest.
"The road you have travelled is long," the man said at last. "And where you are going is just as far. It is not for nothing."
It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no, either. For Allan, it was enough. Some of his caution subsided, and he took a moment to absorb his surroundings. The hut was small and round, its walls a mixture of cow dung and clay. The scent of smoke and herbs hung thick in the air, mingling with the aroma of strange roots and dried leaves dangling from the ceiling. Intricate symbols were carved into the walls.
A low fire burned in a central stone pit, flanked by two leopard skins. The man gestured silently, and Allan sat. Though the fire was warm, he could not shake the eerie cold that clung to the air inside the hut.
"You're not alone here," he stated carefully.
The man shook his head. "In this hut, I am alone. But in my home, there are three others: two sons and a daughter."
Allan's brow furrowed. "Is she one of them?"
"She likes to peek in here now and then," the man answered, his words weaving another riddle. "If she chooses to show herself, you will see her."
Allan's gaze drifted to the darker corners of the hut. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw the faint outline of a figure, slight and unmoving, just beyond the fire's reach. He blinked, and it was gone. A trick of the light, perhaps. A product of his own desperate imagination.
The man handed him a bowl of stew, and Allan accepted it wordlessly. He was suddenly aware of the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. As he ate, the man watched him with a calm, satisfied gaze, as if a long-awaited piece had finally fallen into place.
"You were expected," the man said.
"Expected by whom?"
The man only stared into the flames. "Your path began leading you here long ago. You may not know it, but your steps were always meant to end at this threshold."
Allan set the empty bowl aside. "If Lulu is here—if this is where I find her—then every mile I've walked will have been worth it."
The man gave a faint nod. "Rest, then. Tomorrow, you will have your wish."
With that, he stood and melted into the darkness outside, leaving Allan alone with the fire and a cold that seemed to touch his very skin.