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zurielthecactus · 10 days ago

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Lonely Hunter 🏹

Summary:

A dream. Obviously. That's where Lyla finds herself, in this make believe world where everything comes easy. With no memories of her real life, and a deep ache in her chest, all she wants to do is get home. But it's not a dream. It's a game, created by God-knows-who, and it's trapped her here. The only way out? Find whoever needs her most, and help them. Preferably without falling in love along the way. OR Hassian does have a heart. It is buried beneath a mountain of defence mechanisms and hides a deep chasm of pain, but it is there, and its beat is strong. (this summary needs work) (so does this post formatting actually, this is my first Tumblr fic advert)

Relationships: Hassian/Player Character, Hassian/Original Female Character(s), Hassian/Reader

Additional Tags: trapped in the game, Enemies to Lovers (if you squint), hes just rude and she wont let him, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide (like it's mentioned, briefly), author is an em dash enthusiast

Chapters: 2/15

Preview below the cut, otherwise click here to read on AO3!

Chapter One: Welcome to Palia

Blinded, gagged, and pushed through a pinhole.

At least, that’s how Lyla felt. Light burned her eyes. Smoke filled her lungs. Heat licked at her skin. It didn’t hurt, but it should have. It zapped through her like electricity and left her buzzing, skin crackling at the edges. Before she had even had time to feel fear, an omnipotent voice rang out — through the roar in her ears, through the bones in her chest.

“Time for you to go out into the world. I have high hopes for what you can accomplish.”

Pressure crushed her — cell by cell — and then vanished like water retreating from the shore. The light dimmed. Her breath returned in stuttering gulps. In front of her, floating in empty space like a billboard in her brain:

! Quest: Help the one who needs you most

She didn’t have time to question it before gravity -— a force she had not yet noticed -— finally took hold, and her boots met stone. She blinked a few more times and her vision cleared, although she wasn’t sure she could trust what her eyes were telling her.

She was standing in the centre of a massive vaulted chamber. White stone walls climbed high around her, cracked and weathered with time. Gold trim still clung to the archways, and four massive braziers roared with flickering purple fire. The space might once have been sacred, but now it felt…forgotten. Overlooked.

A gasp rang out.

Lyla froze, head snapping in the direction of the sound.

A woman — or someone shaped like one — stepped cautiously from behind one of the columns. Her arms, bare and violet-hued, were lifted in a gesture of peace. A white short-sleeved coat hung open over her frame, and her oversized round glasses gleamed with firelight beneath the two coiled buns perched atop her head. Pointed ears poked out from beneath. Behind her loomed a spherical machine, motionless but too large to ignore. Lyla tensed, fists at her sides. If she had to run, she didn’t know where she’d go.

The stranger’s eyes widened.

“Oh. My. Dragon!” The woman’s high-pitched voice echoed off of the walls of the grand chamber, and a delicate purple hand raised to cover her mouth in shock. “Did-did you…just…materialise from nowhere?”

Lyla hesitated. The room was cold, but her skin still tingled with the residual static. She realised with a start that she could understand this strange woman perfectly, despite the clear differences between them. Okay, so we’re both surprised, Lyla thought, resisting the urge to take an alarmed step back.

Several seconds passed. Neither moved.

Then, Lyla forced herself to speak.

“...I honestly have no idea.” Her voice cracked around the edges; her tongue felt like sandpaper. A quick glance down at her own arms — still there, still Human — grounded her with a faint sense of familiarity.

The woman didn’t seem overly concerned. “Right, you probably don’t know any more about your situation than I do. It’s just, none of the other Humans knew either. Which leaves me right back at square one.”

Lyla blinked. Her brain snagged on two specific words. “Other Humans?”

“Yup,” the woman said breezily. “You’re not the first Human I’ve seen in Palia. Just the first I’ve seen…y’know, appearing in a giant cocoon of light.” Reality finally seemed to catch up with her at her words, her eyes widening with recognition. One hand came up to rub at her forehead. “We should slow down.” Her posture softened, and she quickly fished around inside of her oversized coat pockets. Lyla instinctively took a half-step back as she produced a large piece of folded paper. The woman paused for a moment, and then extended the paper with a gentler motion. “Why don’t you take this map and head into town where you can talk to Ashura, the Innkeeper? He’s been helping others like you get settled in. I would help you myself, but I’m working on something here, and I’m this close to figuring it out.” A small smile — rushed, apologetic, and still tinged with excitement — offered Lyla no comfort; just more questions.

Lyla stared. Her eyes flicked from the paper to the stranger, then to the machine behind her. The robot still hadn’t moved, but something about it felt attentive. Like it was watching.

The woman, seeming to either not notice the awkward silence or be deadset on filling it, continued on. “I was so caught off guard -— I realise I forgot to introduce myself or explain why I'm here,” she almost laughed, though there was a caution in her tone which gave away her apprehension. “The name's Jina. I'm an apprentice scholar researching these old ruins. And this here,” she waved the map toward the machine, “is my research assistant, Hekla.”

At the sound of her name, Hekla seemed to whir to life - a series of robotic beeps foreshadowed her computerised voice before she gave Lyla a friendly greeting.

! Relationship Status: A Little Shy

The new notification blinked into existence just across Lyla’s eyes — semi-transparent and glowing like the first. No one else reacted. A moment later, it vanished.

She looked around, searching the chamber for anything else strange — but all she saw were creeping vines, worn stone, and a great phoenix statue, its wings curled protectively around the platform on which she stood. The purple flames licked at the air, but there was no smoke.

The woman -— Jina -— glanced back to Lyla with a friendly smile, braving the last few steps to offer her the map once more. “Be sure to ask her if you have any questions,” she suggested. Lyla took the paper dumbly, almost absently. “I've gotta get back to the grind.” With that, the apprentice scholar’s attention turned once again to the glowing runes etched into the stone all around them.

Hekla said nothing more. Lyla, uncertain and unwilling to push her luck, did not approach.

She looked instead toward the hallway ahead — a massive keyhole-shaped door that opened onto a long corridor, bathed in quiet light. Somewhere at the far end, it opened to the world.

The torches lining the white-and-gold hall burned a warm orange, which somehow felt much safer than the bizarre violet flames of the chamber. The hall opened into a darker chamber below, where time had clearly done its damage — cracked stone, roots twisting through the floor, and collapsed stairs blocked her way forward. But conveniently, a thick wall of vines stretched along the far side of the chamber. They looked climbable. Lyla hesitated only a moment before walking to them.

It’s just a dream, she reminded herself. Nothing can happen to me here that I won’t wake up from.

Still, her breath hitched as her fingers wrapped around the stalks. They were coarse and veined with texture, creaking faintly under her weight. She pretended not to notice. Sometimes dreams are just a little more real.

At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. With surprising ease, Lyla hauled herself over the edge and stood. Her footfalls were audible across the stone floor, her movements purposeful. When the broken stone of the passage finally gave way to a dirt path, the softer texture was noticeable beneath her shoes. She certainly didn’t feel like she was in a dream.

The sunlight hit her, and she squinted against it painfully as her eyes adjusted to the light.

A waterfall surged down the cliff edge just ahead of her, feeding into a clear lake far below. Beyond that: fields, trees, and — nestled among them — a small village that looked like it had sprung straight out of a fantasy painting. Mountains loomed in the distance, cradling the land between them and the sea.

Lyla stared in awe; in a word, it was breathtaking.

She’d experienced vivid dreams before, but never had her imagination conjured the feel of the sun on her skin, or a landscape that stretched so impossibly wide. The prickling heat of her arrival was almost entirely forgotten at the thought of frollicking in the flowers like a lamb.

Jina’s instructions echoed through her mind: head into town where you can talk to Ashura, the Innkeeper.

She didn’t need a map. She knew that the inn she needed to find would be nestled somewhere in the village, and she could tell even at her great distance that it was a tiny settlement. With the full confidence of a woman who knew she’d be waking up at any minute, Lyla made her way down the path cut into the cliffside.

The carved out tunnel was held up by dubious looking wooden support structures; they’d clearly been there for years, but were still solid enough. The sound of the rushing water over the cliff never lessened as she made her way down the wood-and-dirt path, until finally she came to the final opening; to her left, another, smaller waterfall fed into the same river as the one to her right. Before her, a weathered wooden bridge stretched the gap between the cliff and the stone pathway to the village. Faint birdsong and the rustle of wind could just be heard over the roar of water.

Lyla crossed the worn bridge, its beams creaking beneath her, and turned left toward where she knew the village lay. On the way, she passed a pair of benches and a smouldering fire pit — a cosy touch, like the dream was trying to make itself hospitable. She smiled faintly as a breeze rustled through the trees and the smell of damp soil filled her nose.

Despite the distance, it didn’t take long before she reached the outskirts of the village. She passed beneath a tall wooden arch adorned with a U-shaped carving, and a string of wind chimes that clinked softly in the breeze.

Ahead, signposts marked the roads, although the words meant nothing to her -— strange glyphs carved into smooth wood. Lyla frowned at this, but quickly dismissed the mystery; dreams are just like that sometimes.

Colourful lanterns and paper bunting lined the way forward, decorating the gaps between the lightposts that led her into the village centre. The path opened into a wide, triangle-shaped plaza with a broken stone fountain at its centre. It was cracked and overgrown, clearly older than the rest of the town — like it had been left behind by time.

She passed what looked like a library, its roof a bright lapis blue, a book carved over the entryway. To her right, a green building bore the symbol of a chair. A furniture store, maybe. Beyond that, a grocer’s, and past it, a shop with purple banners and a coathanger carved above the door.

And then she saw it.

A large, two-storey building sat proudly near the back of the plaza, with wide stone steps and a deck out the front. Above the door were carved two steins mid-toast, the beer within sloshing out over the top.

That’s gotta be the place.

She climbed the steps slowly, unsure where the sudden nerves had come from. It’s just a dream, she told herself, the words playing over like a mantra in her head. Just a dream.

Then, the sound of laughter -— warm and real -— as the door swung open, and a man stepped out.

A Human man.

Lyla froze. A sense of relief crashed over her like a wave at the recognition of someone -— anyone -— familiar.

“Excuse me,” she tried, her voice just a little too high. The man turned, eyes bright and smiling.

“Yes?” he asks, friendly, but distracted as his gaze flicks to the village behind her.

“I’m-I’m looking for Ashura…?” she gestures helplessly toward the inn.

For a moment, the man just blinked at her. Then, understanding dawned across his features, and he laughed. “Ah. New recruit, are ya?”

Lyla wasn’t sure exactly how to respond, so she simply nodded.

“Oh, well, welcome to Palia!” He grinned warmly. “Sorry, I can’t stick around just now -— Auni’s challenged me to a bug-catching contest. But, uh, Ashura’s over there-” he gestured behind him with his thumb, “-big, burly cuddle bear. Can’t miss ’im. Good luck!”

And just like that the man was gone, disappearing down the road in a blur of good cheer.

Lyla stood on the wooden deck, heart hammering, unsure whether to laugh or run.

The sounds of the tavern drifted toward her; cutlery clinking, chairs scraping, quiet chatter. Nerves bubbled in her blood, her mouth going dry as she stepped across the threshold.

The warmth hit her first. Not just from the crackling fireplace, but something else. Something homelike.

A wide room opened around her, with its vaulted ceilings and second-floor balcony above. A pair of patrons laughed at a lunchtable, and a tall man poured drinks behind the bar. There was a scent in the air -— oddly fresh, vaguely lettuce-like -— and yet…not unpleasant.

She tried not to dwell on the fact she’d never smelled anything in a dream before.

A booming, belly-deep laugh echoed from across the tavern, drawing her eye to its source -— an older man with a weathered face and a beard that matched the dusting of grey in his hair. He was easily one of the largest men she'd seen since her dream began: broad-shouldered and thick-set, the soft stretch of his belly doing little to disguise the strength beneath. His tattoos -— a darker shade of purple than his skin -— curled out from beneath the sleeves of his rolled-up shirt as he clapped a customer on the back and sent them off with a grin.

Lyla hovered near the door, watching. The man, now alone, turned and began wiping the table clean. The grin faded. What replaced it wasn’t unfriendly, exactly -— but it was hard. Watchful.

Her feet moved before she decided they would. Crossing the room, the tavern felt much quieter than it had. Quiet enough for her to hear the scuffing of her shoes across the wood, as though announcing to those gathered that she didn’t belong. She stopped a few steps short. Her breath caught, her palms began to sweat.

The man looked up.

His face was carved from granite -— but there was a flicker in his eyes, a gentle shine. His gaze swept over her face, searching. And then, recognition -— soft, almost amused. That warm smile bloomed again like it had been waiting for its chance.

“Welcome to Kilima!” he greeted, his voice gentler than before but still full of life. He stood tall and flipped the cloth over his shoulder, opening a large palm toward her in greeting. He gestured to one of the vacated chairs and offered, “I’m sure this is quite a lot to take in.”

Lyla glanced at the empty seat, but made no move to sit. The idea of settling in -— of relaxing -— felt absurd. Her body was still braced for something to go wrong. She shifted on her feet and shook her head, her throat tightening.

The innkeeper didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his gaze softened further. He kept his large, calloused hands visible as he calmly continued, “I’m Ashura, the innkeeper at Ormuu’s Horn.” He gestured at the aged wallpaper, the high beams, the worn rug before the fireplace. “Unfortunately, there isn’t any room at the inn right now,” he added with an apologetic smile, “but we do have some old plots where you could build yourself a tent. Whaddaya say? You wanna take in the great outdoors?”

Something in her wanted to say yes. Maybe it was his tone — reassuring, unforced — or maybe it was that old dream-logic again, the instinct to just move forward, go along.

But a tent? She hesitated. For a moment she tried to picture her bed -— the one she knew was waiting for her once this dream ended.

Blank.

Her breath caught again. She couldn’t remember what it looked like. Not just the bed — the walls, the door, the street outside. Like it had been folded up and placed somewhere behind her eyes, unreachable. “I’m…not the camping type,” she replied, the words sticking in her throat as she felt her shoulders tense again.

Ashura’s face split into a broader grin, and a chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest — not loud this time, but easy. “I hear you,” he said, unbothered. “I slept in a tent for years while I was a soldier, never quite got used to it.”

A soldier, Lyla thought. That explained the thick arms, the watchful eyes, and the strange mix of tension and ease he carried; like a man who could cause significant harm with ease, but would rather offer a blanket.

He studied her.

Lyla’s back straightened a little too sharply, and her fingers curled into her palms at her side. She wondered what it was that he saw in her.

“...Well,” he began again after she failed to fill the silence, “maybe we can talk to the mayor about getting you in something more permanent.”

Permanent. The word echoed in her brain like a dropped coin.

She blinked. The tavern hadn’t changed -— still filled with a warm light and the scent of something stewing in the kitchen. But something in the back of her mind tensed again. Not fear, not exactly — something quieter. Like a thread pulling taut.

She heard the chitter of an animal. Out the window she could see one of the orange furry creatures which had dotted the field on her walk down, and the sight tugged at her.

She wanted to chase it.

Not because it made sense, but specifically because it didn’t - dreams were for doing, not for waiting. Her subconscious imagination had conjured this world in vivid detail, and she wanted to savour it.

Her gaze dropped again to her hands. They were hers -— she knew they were -— but there was something oddly different about them. A foreign elegance, mismatched to the small callouses on her fingers that she was sure didn’t belong.

A dream. Lyla was certain. But there was something in it, in the sheer amount of detail, that made it feel unlike any other dream she’d ever had. This dream was too vivid; it had weight, texture. She could feel the warmth of the wood beneath her feet through the soles of her boots, she had felt the gentle breeze rustle her hair.

Lyla almost laughed. Not a real one -— a small huff through her nostrils, startled and unbelieving.

She looked around again; there was no dream-like swirl to her surroundings, no indication that it was beginning to fade. A sunbeam stretched across the room, showcasing the constant swirl of dust motes in the air.

Permanent, in a dream?

A smirk tugged at her mouth as absurdity settled in like an old friend. Around her, the tavern creaked softly, accompanied by the distant clatter of cutlery and hushed voices. She carried that amusement with her as Ashura explained everything — the materials she’d need, the axe he’d lend her, the local miner she’d meet at her new “plot.”

She didn’t question it. Of course she didn’t. That’s how dreams worked.

She spent the rest of the afternoon chopping trees, splitting stone like it was nothing, and chasing the furry creatures through the forest surrounding what her imagination called home. Hodari -— the miner -— had ensured she knew enough to make the small building on her plot functional as a home. She went to sleep that evening in her makeshift bed, crafted by her own somehow practised hands, knowing that real life waited for her on the other side.

The amusement dried up when morning came, and she found herself still tucked under the itchy green blanket in her draughty, run-down shack.

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#palia #fanfic #hassian #hassian x reader #palia fic #palia hassian #hassian fic #palia game #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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