As they neared Vestrix, the quartet couldn’t help but marvel at the Animans. These tall, physically distinct beings carried an air of resilience, their striking builds and unique features setting them apart from any race the adventurers had seen. Eventually, they came across a secluded Animan village, known as the “Spring Grounds.” They approached an inn in hopes of finding shelter for the night, but the clerk firmly turned them away, explaining, “We do not take your kind here. You’ll have to look elsewhere.”

Understanding the Animans’ hesitation to trust outsiders, the quartet prepared to continue searching when a voice called out to them. An Animan woman, towering and graceful, with black spots and a long tail, approached them. “I have space,” she said. “My home is far too big for just one.”

Grateful, the adventurers followed her to a sprawling farmhouse. Inside, it was spacious yet cozy, clearly meant to house more than a single person. Once they’d settled in, their host introduced herself. “My name is Cheela. If you need anything, just ask.”

Later that day, as Orvell wandered into the dining room, he noticed Cheela wiping down the table. There was something steady and methodical about her, a quiet kindness that intrigued him. “Why are you helping us?” Orvell asked.

Cheela paused, looking up with a gentle smile. “Is it a crime to help others? Besides,” she added, “you won’t find anywhere else to stay—not as long as it’s on Animan property.”

“We’re grateful,” Orvell replied, “but we won’t be here long. Our journey leads to Vestrix.”

At this, Cheela’s expression shifted. “Vestrix? What business do you have there?”

Orvell explained their quest to find a fragment of a star before a dangerous man could complete his collection. “He already possesses two pieces. If he finds the third…”

Cheela’s face turned solemn. “You should know that Vestrix is no longer safe. A tyrant sits on the throne—Lord Carca. He claimed it after he killed King Ratel. Ever since, fear and misery have plagued the land. Villagers have fled in droves, seeking refuge anywhere they can, but now even nearby villages are overrun. Resources are scarce, and the people of Vestrix feel trapped.”

As dawn broke, the quartet readied themselves to enter Vestrix. But just as they were about to leave, Cheela appeared, fully equipped and prepared. Surprised, Beatrice asked, “You’re coming with us?”

Cheela nodded firmly. “Yes, I am. I have family in Vestrix. I haven’t seen them in years. When Carca took over, he banned adventurers from the city, making it nearly impossible for me to return. But I know a hidden way in.”

Orvell took a step forward, suggesting they try using their official documentation first. "We don’t want to create unnecessary tension between humans and Animans. If we storm in, it could lead to war.”

Cheela paused, a flash of defiance in her eyes. “Then let there be war,” she declared, before bolting toward Vestrix’s gates.

The quartet scrambled onto their mounts, chasing after her, but by the time they reached the gates, Cheela was gone. Determined to follow through with their original plan, Orvell presented the entry documents to the guards. The quartet was permitted into the city as merchants—but only after surrendering their weapons and armor to the kingdom’s armory until their departure.

Once inside, they were greeted by a foul stench of decay and despair. Homeless Animans filled the streets, many of them young and abandoned. Beatrice couldn’t look away from the suffering around her, her heart aching as a mother seeing children left to fend for themselves.

At the inn, a patrol guard—a massive Rinocelops—stopped them. His voice held a mix of suspicion and contempt. “What are you humans doing here? Who let you in?”

Orvell produced the documents again, but the guard snatched them and, shockingly, devoured them. “What documents?” the guard sneered. “You’re under arrest!”

In seconds, the guard pinned Orvell down, locking shackles around his wrists. Despite Orvell’s compliance, the guard struck him as if he were resisting. Turning to the women, he growled, “You’re going to the Nest!”

Separated, Orvell was hauled off to the dungeon, stripped of his clothing, and thrown into a dank cell. “This is a misunderstanding,” he protested. “We only came seeking a fragment of a star!”

From the dim corner of the cell, a towering Animan spoke, his voice resigned. “Give it up, adventurer. You’re doomed, like the rest of us.”

Orvell turned, curious. “How long have you been here?”

The Animan sighed. “Since the day Lord Carca took over. I was one of King Ratel’s loyal guards. After he died, I tried my hand at adventuring, but Carca’s ban crushed those hopes.” He went on to tell Orvell of Vestrix’s downfall under Carca’s rule and of a nagging suspicion: that Carca had been placed on the throne by someone else with a darker purpose.

Meanwhile, the women found themselves shackled and led to an unfamiliar building. Inside, they realized with horror that it was a breeding nest, filled with women of all races—Dwarves, Elves, Orcs, and others—all imprisoned and violated. Some were barely more than children, while others were frail and broken.

Beatrice’s eyes fell on a young girl, hardly fourteen, bleeding and frightened. Kneeling beside her, Beatrice tore a strip from her own clothing to help clean the blood from the girl’s thighs. “Where’s your mother?” she asked gently.

The girl whispered, “She sold me here. My father… he was cruel.”

Minerva clenched her fists, disgust written across her face. “This has to end. It’s vile and evil.”

Raven glanced around for anything they could use. “If we can find some scrap wood, I can fashion a makeshift knife. Beatrice, can you still use your frost abilities?”

Beatrice nodded, but she cautioned, “My powers could endanger everyone here. They’re more effective in wide bursts, unless I can channel them through a specific object.”

With few options and time running out, the women realized they’d need both wits and bravery to break free—and to save the other prisoners. As hope dimmed, their will to fight burned brighter.

Raven, with her experience as a prisoner, picked up a sturdy piece of wood and began carving it against the edge of the wall, fashioning one side into a thin, sharp edge. She handed the makeshift shiv to Beatrice, but just as Beatrice took it, a guard entered. Thinking quickly, Beatrice tossed the weapon behind her, kicking dirt over it to hide it.

The guard’s gaze fixed on her, and he ordered, “You! With the blue hair, come with me.” Beatrice complied, but as she reached him, he inspected her, then grabbed her by her hair and dragged her away. Left alone, Raven turned to Minerva, holding the shiv. “What do we do now?” she whispered. Minerva had only one answer: fight. It was now or never.

In another cell, Orvell struck up a conversation with his cellmate, an Animan named Amur. “What’s your name?” Orvell asked. “Amur, son of King Tey of the Greentree Forest,” he replied. Amur was astonished when Orvell revealed he could cast spells without a wand or staff. “I’m a mystic swordsman. My magic flows within me, not from an object,” Orvell explained. At Amur’s urging, Orvell focused on the cell door, his energy crackling as he whispered, “Disintegrate.” With a wave of his hand, the door melted away. They were free.

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As they crept up the dungeon stairs, they overpowered a guard and stripped him of his armor and sword, though it was a massive greatsword and awkward for Orvell to wield. They continued fighting through guards, but with no knowledge of the prison’s layout, they struggled to find an exit. Eventually, they encountered the rhinocelops who had captured Orvell. Furious, it brandished a battle hammer and charged. Orvell gestured for Amur to stay back and enchanted his greatsword. In a single, powerful strike, he felled the rhinocelops.

A terrified guard, watching the display, laughed bitterly as Orvell held his blade to his throat. “You’ll be dead soon enough, just like the girl with blue hair,” the guard sneered. Enraged, Orvell pinned him to the wall, squeezing his throat. “Where is she?” The guard gasped, pointing toward Carca’s pleasure room, and with a final, desperate squeeze, Orvell ended his life.

Bursting into the room, Orvell found Beatrice shackled, her body bloodied, bruised, and broken. Wordlessly, he approached and shattered her shackles. Amur found a blanket and handed it to Orvell, who wrapped her gently, calling her name in anguish. With Beatrice in his arms, he and Amur moved toward the exit, only to meet Minerva and Raven, who wept at the sight of Beatrice’s broken form.

At the castle’s front entrance, Lord Carca addressed his servants at the top of the stairwell. Spotting the group, he sneered as Amur lunged at him, but Carca batted him aside with ease. Raven and Minerva shouted, “Stay back, fiend! We’ll end you!” Carca laughed. “You think you can defeat me? Pathetic.” Before he could taunt further, he felt a sharp cut across his cheek, though none of the group had moved. Sniffing the air, he smirked. “Come out, assassin.”

From the shadows, Cheela appeared, nodding at Orvell and the others. “I’m sorry for what happened here. I’ll do my best to end him.” Carca laughed again, drawing his battle ax. “Try me, assassin.”

Minerva and Raven begged Orvell to help Cheela, but he only continued toward the door, silent and focused on Beatrice. With bare fists, Minerva and Raven joined Cheela in the battle, but Carca fended them off with brutal ease. Amur, enraged, struck Carca’s face with a powerful blow, but Carca grabbed his hand, taunting, “This is where I make sure you never use these again.” With a bone-crushing snap, Carca broke Amur’s hand and jabbed his throat, leaving him gasping on the ground.

Turning to Orvell, Carca grinned and threw his battle ax to the ground, grabbing him by the head. “So, you’re the mystic knight everyone talks about. Let’s see if you’re worth keeping as a pet.” He began beating Orvell savagely, leaving cracks in the floor with each strike. But through the pain, Orvell’s attention remained fixed on Beatrice.

Finally, Carca sneered, “Who’s so important that makes you mute?” He approached Beatrice’s body, ripping off the blanket. “This woman?” He held her limp form aloft and continued his twisted monologue. “She didn’t last a minute with me. Weak, just like you.”

Orvell rose slowly, his voice cold and deadly. “Put. Her. Down.”

Carca laughed and tossed Beatrice toward Orvell, her lifeless body rolling to his feet. Orvell’s eyes darkened as a fierce magic aura engulfed him. He reached out, and his broken arm repaired itself. Unfazed, Carca picked up his ax and taunted, “Show me the—”

Before he could finish, Orvell gestured, and Carca felt an unbearable force. Glancing down, he saw blood spilling from a deep wound across his chest. He looked back at Cheela, defeated and still on the ground, realizing with horror that it was Orvell who had cut him.

With one last wave of Orvell’s hand, Carca was split in two. Orvell turned back to Beatrice, lifting her gently before walking out the door, his vengeance complete.

Back at Cheela’s home, the group took a much-needed rest. Yet Orvell remained vigilant, sitting by Beatrice's side as he applied phoenix tears to heal her wounds. Her faint pulse gave him hope. Cheela returned with their belongings from the armory, handing each item back to Orvell and the others. She turned to Orvell, saying, “I know a healer about a day’s ride from here. They might be able to help her.”

Orvell looked up. “Tell me where they are.”

“But…what about your quest?” Cheela asked, hesitant.

Orvell replied, his voice steady. “The quest will have to wait. I am no king without my queen.”

Just then, Minerva and Raven entered the room, concern etched on their faces. “Orvell, if Behem gains all four star pieces, he’ll have the power of a star, able to control all of Grass Mark,” Minerva said.

Orvell sat quietly, wrestling with his decision, then turned to Cheela. “Take Beatrice to the healer. Minerva, Raven, and I will finish the quest.”

Over the next few days, the trio followed leads, interrogating everyone they could find in Lord Carca’s former castle. Finally, Carca’s butler revealed that the next star fragment lay hidden in an oasis west of Vestrix. Without hesitation, they rode out.

The oasis was vibrant, its tropical beauty almost surreal. Villagers there spoke of a strange wizard who had also sought the fragment and, upon receiving no answers, threatened their community. The oasis leader pointed them to a cave hidden behind a waterfall, where the wizard had gone. Sensing danger, the trio pressed forward.

Inside, they spotted a wizard—but it wasn’t Behem. Orvell threw his magical shield, knocking the figure back, but the wizard recovered quickly, summoning dark creatures from below. Raven and Minerva took on the beasts while Orvell confronted the wizard, blocking magic projectiles with his enchanted shield. Finally, Orvell’s blade struck the wizard’s form, yet as it did, the figure’s clothing fell empty to the ground.

A slow clap echoed through the cave. “Ah, Orvell, we meet again.”

It was Behem. He walked calmly into the chamber, four menacing figures flanking him. Smirking, he said, “So, the famed mystic swordsman truly lives up to his name.”

Behem’s men launched themselves at Orvell and the others while he strolled toward the star fragment. Orvell quickly moved to intercept, aiming a powerful thrust, but Behem’s magical barrier deflected it effortlessly. Enraged, Orvell continued to attack, his strikes faster and stronger with each swing, but Behem’s shield held.

Unfazed, Behem taunted, “But have you ever seen a wizard do this?” In a flash, he transformed his staff into a gleaming blade and lunged, slicing across Orvell’s side with unnerving speed.

Orvell staggered, blood trickling down, yet he steadied himself, channeling his magic to cauterize the wound. He pointed his sword at Behem. “You’re not getting any closer to that star fragment. I’ll see to it.”

Orvell’s next strike shattered Behem’s barrier, sending him reeling. But before Orvell could follow through, Behem cast a spell, immobilizing him mid-attack. “We’ll finish this another time,” Behem sneered, moving toward the star fragment—only to cry out in pain as a shot tore into his hand. He spun around, finding Raven with her musket trained on him.

“You were supposed to help me,” he snarled.

“Yes,” she replied coldly, “until I saw your real intentions. I won’t let a madman rule over Grass Mark.”

Seeing he was outnumbered, Behem summoned a portal. “Next time,” he promised, glaring, “I’ll end you all.” With that, he disappeared.

Raven retrieved the star piece, only to drop it instantly—it burned on contact. Minerva lifted it with her magic, but even then, its weight felt like that of an entire island. Finally, Orvell managed to grasp it, though he too felt its intense resistance.

“We need something to hold it safely,” he murmured, thinking of Marabel, their ally. Using a transport gem, he visited her warehouse and returned with a specially crafted bag she’d labeled “Endless Satch.” With cautious teamwork, they placed the star piece inside, relieved when it settled without further trouble.

Back at Cheela’s, they found Beatrice lying pale and unresponsive, though the healer informed them her heart still beat faintly. As he dismissed the others to speak with Orvell alone, the healer spoke plainly. “Her injuries are beyond my magic or medicines. She may not return, my friend.”

Orvell asked for time alone with Beatrice, and over the next few days, he seldom left her side. Finally, Minerva approached him. “Orvell, Raven found another clue to the next star fragment. If we don’t move quickly, Behem will beat us to it.”

Standing, Orvell nodded solemnly. “I’ll send her on her way first.”

A small ceremony took place at dawn. They placed Beatrice in a boat, her armor shining, sword resting across her chest. As the boat drifted, Minerva cast a flame spell, gently igniting the vessel. Raven and Minerva left to ready their mounts, but Orvell lingered, whispering, “I will follow you someday, my love. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, Beatrice. You were my heart… my everything.”

After watching the flames for a moment longer, he turned away, rejoining Minerva and Raven. Together, they set out into the uncertain dawn.