The striking woman studied Zeni cautiously before sheathing her weapon in a holster-like spot at her side.

"You're fortunate, Zeni. We're Rahhalah, and we happened upon these lesser sphinxes in flight," she said, her voice sounding, to Zeni, both dangerous and oddly alluring.

“So…why the hostility…if you don’t mind me asking?” Zeni asked…anyway.

The woman raised an eyebrow.

“Toward you, or the sphinxes?”

Zeni smiled.

“Both?”

The woman gave her a curious look, and then nodded toward the corpses of the creatures on the ground.

“Those,” she said. “Are bad for a village’s morale. You—”

She drew closer again, and Zeni’s face got very hot very fast. She looked and smelled wonderful.

“Are an unknown,” the woman finished. “Clearly not from around these parts—unless fashion has devolved in this region since last we were here?”

Zeni's heart raced as she took in the fascinating people before her, ignoring the absolute pile driver the woman had just performed on her heart and self esteem.

These clothes are perfectly acceptable where I’m from, she thought. Sure, maybe they’re not expensive, but I think they look nice.

She looked down at herself, noticing the overabundance of torn fabric and blood stains.

Or, they did until the sphinxes showed up.

The shorter, robust man finished off the last of the lesser sphinxes and joined Zeni and the striking woman.

"Hello, miss! Nice bit of work back there holding those sphinxes off like you did! The name’s Tarek. This fetching viper is Amara, and the quiet fellow up there is Faris." He gestured to the handsome man atop the flying creature, who merely nodded.

“Zeni,” Zeni said softly, wholly intimidated by being so close to such incredible beauty and power.

“Of course you are,” Tarek said, his big grin plastered to his face. “A lovely name for a lovely dame. Sorry about all the explosions. Amara’s precise, but the heat from that attack can really catch folk off guard.”

Amara stepped back, assessing Zeni with a critical gaze.

"You're lucky we were close by, or those sphinxes would've had you. You need to learn to wield your powers effectively."

“Oh, uh, you saw that, huh?” Zeni said. “Sorry. I…haven’t quite learned how to use it properly yet. I’m pretty new to the whole thing.”

Sensing Zeni's discomfort, Tarek placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"No worries. You'll get the hang of it! I’ve got daughters, myself. Eight of ‘em, if it can be believed. All had their struggles too. You’ll get it right—just need a bit of practice, most like.

He jabbed a thumb back at the handsome rider with a laugh.

“Hell, you think Faris learned to fly on his first foray?"

Curiosity piqued, Zeni inquired about the airborne creature.

"What is that?" she gestured toward the winged beast.

Faris, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. His voice was deep and melodic—very freakin’ hot, as far as Zeni was concerned.

"This is Azar, a Kheirian Nightwing. She serves as our mount and a formidable ally."

Zeni marveled at the majestic creature, wishing she could ride something so magnificent. Maybe if she were particularly charming…

She realized that, based on her track record, the last thing anyone was going to find her was full of charisma. She abandoned the thought and decided that maybe if she got lucky, she could pet Azar. The…Kheirian Nightwing was as dangerous looking as it was beautiful.

As villagers approached the Rahhalah to express their gratitude, Zeni noticed Neith among them, her expression indicating familiarity with the group.

“Please, brave Rahhalah,” Neith said, gesturing. “You’ve done us a great service on this day. Would you consider resting for a time so that we might thank you for your assistance with our hospitality?

The three adventurers looked at one another and Zeni noticed the slightest of nods pass around their cluster before Tarek turned back to them and broke into a wide grin.

“Well, I suppose it would be rude to not let you properly say your gratitudinal salutations,” he said. “Don’t suppose you’d have anything to drink around these parts would you, now? I’ve a powerful thirst, and a poor constitution.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I think we can find something for you,” Neith said with a smile.

It was a short time later that a long table was set up outside Neith’s house and two of the three adventurers were seated along its length. Tarek and Amara were busy digging into the general food that the rest of the villagers had rolled out to thank them for ensuring the total destruction of their home was delayed. Zeni, as a newly-arrived person and helpful member of the battle, was allowed to sit there as well, though she was still full from earlier. Faris, the third member of the Rahhalah, was nowhere to be found, though she thought she could hear the flap of Azar’s wings in the distance, and she assumed they were probably finding their own form of recreation.

As Zeni stared at the feast before her, she was shocked and appalled to see the amount the villagers had been able to whip up for their guests in such a short time.

This…doesn’t seem possible, she thought.

The table groaned beneath the weight of delectable dishes lovingly prepared by the villagers to express their gratitude. Steaming clay pots filled with rich, spiced stews of tender lamb and beef perfumed the air, while hearty pilafs of rice and bulgur wheat, studded with dried fruits and nuts, offered a satisfying accompaniment. Warm, fresh-baked flatbreads, their surfaces dimpled and golden, served as the perfect vehicle for scooping up the vibrant, spice-laden dishes.

Bowls brimming with thick, velvety soups provided a savory counterpoint to the flavors. A hearty lentil soup, thick with the earthy essence of legumes and enlivened by the fragrant kiss of cumin, coriander, and paprika, mingled with the creamy tang of a yogurt and cucumber soup, its coolness a refreshing contrast to the bold flavors of the meal.

A platter of roasted vegetables, their surfaces caramelized to a perfect balance of sweet and savory, glistened with a sheen of melted ghee and fragrant herbs. Delicate, fragrant saffron rice, jeweled with sultanas and slivers of almond, provided a sumptuous base for the array of mouthwatering dishes.

Tender skewers of marinated meats sizzled over a nearby fire pit, their juices intermingling with the enticing aromas of garlic, onion, and spices. The meats were seared to perfection, their exteriors crisp and flavorful, while the insides remained moist and tender, practically melting in one's mouth.

Interestingly, the group seemed particularly occupied by one section of the table more than others: amidst the enticing array of dishes, a section of intoxicating beverages was presented. Earthenware jugs held a sweet, golden mead infused with the delicate notes of orange blossom spiced with cinnamon and cloves. For Zeni, who bravely chose to only sample this portion of the meal, the honeyed nectar danced across the tongue, its warmth and sweetness a perfect companion to the fiery, aromatic flavors of the cuisine.

Zeni believed honestly that nothing short of magic had accomplished this feat.

As the group exchanged stories and discussed their experiences, Zeni felt a sense of kinship forming. She asked them where they were truly heading once they left. In response, Amara addressed the Traveler, her captivating gaze unwavering.

"We're heading to a dungeon to the north. Rumor has it there's something of interest hidden there. You, however, should consider a nearby low-level dungeon to hone your skills."

Zeni's heart quickened at the thought. She recalled the strange disembodied voice right before arriving and its portent of bad omen.

Ah, there will be plenty of time to kill a dungeon! I have to explore one first!

"What's it like?" she asked, eager. "Being a Rahhalah, I mean. What do you do, exactly?"

Tarek's grin was contagious.

"Well, didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to explain my job—most people already know what we’re about. But, I’ll bite, miss! We Rahhalah venture into dungeons, explore ancient ruins, and hunt dangerous creatures like these sphinxes. All for the thrill of discovery and the allure of treasure."

Amara's eyes danced with mischief.

"It's a life of peril and excitement. Play your cards right, and you may experience it yourself someday."

“Yes, peril and excitement are the chief currency,” Tarek said. “A lot more portions of that than there is anything else.”

“Can you tell us some of the stories of your exploits?” Zeni asked, and to her surprise, many of the other villagers echoed her sentiments with gusto. This seemed to be precisely the thing that Tarek wanted, so he leaned forward conspiratorially and dropped his voice low.

“Oh, my dear,” he said. “That I can do.

-

"So, Zeni," Tarek said a short while later, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He was deep into story number four, and his audience was raptly attentive. "Imagine—if you will—a dashing Rahhalah with big broad shoulders and a demeanor the gods themselves would be bewitched by, exploring an ancient ruin. Just minding his sweet business, when suddenly, he inadvertently triggers a fiendish trap!”

Tarek mimed a finger being slid into his own closed fist. Zeni thought to herself that it seemed rather scandalous, until the short, hardy man continued.

“There I was, wedged between two gargantuan stone slabs, pondering the culinary applications of adventurer à la mode."

The group around them laughed merrily. Amara, beautiful and unimpressed, rolled her eyes, but a smirk played at the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, it was a veritable riot to be sure. Faris and I spent hours devising increasingly ludicrous schemes to extricate him, each attempt escalating into further chaos."

Tarek beamed, but seemed to regard the memory sheepishly.

"Indeed it was so! But let me tell you, Zeni,” he said with a wink that made her blush. “There's nothing quite like the taste of freedom after spending a day as the filling in a rock sandwich!"

The villagers laughed and Amara nodded, her expression softening.

"Yes, we dined on the rich banquet of laughter at his expense. But, in the interest of balance, I must admit that he's saved our hides more times than we have fingers to count."

Zeni grew more at ease as they continued to talk, the Rahhalah sharing stories of their adventures and the many improbable places they'd been.

As the banter and repartee rolled on, Zeni found her attention continually drawn to these winsome adventurer’s armor and weapons, which seemed to be engaged in a sort of silent dialogue all their own. Each piece was a smorgasbord of sophisticated detail, with symbols and markings that appeared to be not so much added to the armor as negotiated into place.

One could imagine the various dents and scratches exchanging polite pleasantries with the filigree and scrollwork, perhaps making small talk about the weather, or the latest trends in dungeon attire.

Tarek's breastplate, for example, sported a rather dashing engraving of a lion, which appeared to be gamely trying to escape from a knot of grapevines. No doubt the poor beast had been lured in by the promise of a fine Chardonnay, only to find itself ensnared in a tangled mess of foliage and symbolism.

Amara's gauntlets, meanwhile, were adorned with a series of swirling patterns that seemed to defy the very laws of geometry. Zeni couldn't help but wonder if the person who'd designed them had been inspired by a particularly intense fever dream, or perhaps a close encounter with a thesaurus that had gone horribly awry.

And then there was Faris's sword, which boasted a pommel in the shape of a dragon's head, its eyes inlaid with rubies that seemed to gleam with a fiery intelligence. He’d returned in the middle of story three, and the intricacies of his weapon were captivating. Zeni couldn't shake the feeling that the dragon was silently judging her, perhaps disapproving of her table manners or her lack of experience with dungeons.

Truly, Zeni felt as if each piece was an encyclopedia of adventure, just waiting for someone to come along and unlock its secrets – preferably without setting off any booby traps or inadvertently summoning a horde of angry, wine-loving lions.

She had to stop and think about the notion of her noticing. It was a bit off-brand for her to be so perceptive, and it wasn’t until she remembered her class and the bizarre Ka system that an idea came to her.

Didn’t she have a Perception marker, or something to that effect? Well, that had to be the culprit of her newfound wellspring of watchyness. It was an interesting revelation, and she’d have to see if it helped her in other ways.

Later, as evening got into full dimness, Zeni found that everything was winding down. As the Rahhalah prepared to leave, Zeni felt a mix of admiration and yearning. She was drawn to these mighty, majestic supermodels’ adventurous lives and friendship. She wanted that for her. Real badly.

Amara and Tarek offered parting words of wisdom to the villagers. Standard rousing ‘great job,’ and ‘you’re the real heroes,’ mumbo jumbo. However, when they turned back to Zeni, she found they were both regarding her more directly.

"Don't squander your potential," Amara warned, a playful smile on her lips. "The world's quite perilous, and if you want to survive—or, better yet: thrive—you must harness your abilities.”

Tarek's expression softened as he patted Zeni's back.

"You’re bowling down the right ravine, little miss! You've got much to learn, but you'll get there. I can see there’s something special about you. Who knows? Our paths may cross again."

Zeni nodded, resolve filling her very blood.

“Oh, I hope so,” she said.

She would grow stronger, explore dungeons, and perhaps even become a Rahhalah herself. Then she’d be the one flopping down out of the sky to make maidens swoon.

As the villagers expressed their gratitude and farewells, Zeni watched the Rahhalah mount the magnificent Azar. Faris, the silent observer, gave her a brief nod before directing the Kheirian Nightwing skyward.

With a powerful flap of its wings, the Nightwing soared into the air, bearing the Rahhalah toward their next escapade. Zeni watched them depart, her heart swelling, and made a silent vow.

I’m right behind you.