As Angeline stood up from the table, she dusted off her skirt and stretched. "I'll go see if I have some old dresses lying around. She can't just sit here wrapped in a cloak forever."

Stefan waved her off, his attention shifting back to the girl, who was still sitting beside him, silent and unmoving. He tapped his fingers against the table in thought before sighing.

"We can't keep calling you 'girl,'" he said, eyeing her. "Do you have a name?"

The girl tilted her head, blinking at him in confusion.

Stefan exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of it. "Right. Of course, you don't. Why would you? You just hatched from a damn egg." He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "What am I doing talking to a manmade monster like you and expecting an answer?"

The girl didn't react to his words—she only stared.

Stefan rested his elbow on the table and studied her. His mind drifted to the intricate dragon tattoo on her back, the dark ink curling along her pale skin. That thing wasn't just decoration. It had to mean something. Maybe a mark of ownership, a spell, or something much worse.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on that.

He crossed his arms and thought for a moment before finally coming to a conclusion. "Vul," he muttered.

The girl blinked, her red eyes locked onto him.

Stefan nodded to himself. "Yeah. Vul. Short for Vulcan."

It made sense. Dragons in the Promised Lands were known to reside in volcanoes, their scales hardened by molten rock and their wings cutting through the smoke-filled sky. If she had some kind of connection to dragons, then the name was fitting enough.

The moment the girl—no, Vul—heard it, her eyes widened with something resembling understanding. A bright smile spread across her face, pure and childlike.

"Vul," she echoed softly, as if tasting the word. Then again, a little stronger. "Vul!"

Stefan raised an eyebrow at her excitement. "Glad you like it."

Vul nodded enthusiastically, clutching the cloak around her tighter as if she had just been given the most precious gift in the world.

Stefan exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Great. Now he was naming her too.

Angeline returned, carrying a small dress over her shoulder. It was a simple white frock with soft lace at the hems, something she used to wear when she was younger. As she approached the table, she caught sight of Vul, her eyes bright and her lips curled into a delighted smile, still repeating her new name under her breath like it was a precious secret. But what caught Angeline's attention even more was Stefan, sitting across from her, arms crossed, looking like he had just lost a battle he didn't even remember fighting.

Angeline smirked, holding back a chuckle. "Aww, look at you two! Already bonding like a little family? Stefan, I didn't know you had a soft side."

Stefan immediately shot her a glare. "Tch. Don't start."

But Angeline leaned on the table, grinning. "You named her, Stefan. That's basically adopting her. What's next? Teaching her how to hold a sword? Tucking her in at night?"

"Enough," Stefan growled. "I just gave her a damn name, that's all."

"Sure, sure," Angeline hummed playfully. "Papa Stefan does have a nice ring to it, don't you think, Vul?"

Vul tilted her head, her red eyes flicking between them. She remained silent, simply watching. But it wasn't the quiet of someone unsure how to respond—she was studying them, her gaze intense and unblinking. She tracked the way their lips moved, the way their shoulders shifted, the gestures they made with their hands. Every interaction, every subtle shift in tone, she absorbed like a machine gathering data.

Then, suddenly, she flinched.

A sharp, searing heat spread across her back. Her body stiffened, fingers gripping the cloak tighter. A strangled noise escaped her throat—soft, yet filled with distress.

Angeline's teasing stopped immediately. "Vul?" Her voice was laced with concern as she rushed to her side. "Hey, are you okay?"

Vul nodded quickly, but there was a slight tremble in her frame.

Angeline frowned but didn't press her. Instead, she placed a gentle hand on Vul's shoulder and lifted the dress. "Come on, I'll take you to your room and help you get changed."

She turned to Stefan and shot him a look. "And you, get some rest."

Stefan grunted but didn't argue. As he stood and walked past Vul, she instinctively reached out for him, her small fingers stretching toward him as if trying to hold onto something familiar.

But Stefan didn't stop. He didn't even notice.

Vul's hand slowly lowered, her expression unreadable.

Angeline sighed softly and patted Vul's head. "Don't mind him. He's just an idiot." She flashed a small smile. "Come on, let's get you settled."

Vul hesitated, then nodded, allowing Angeline to guide her upstairs.

-

A new day. The first thing Vul heard was a sharp, piercing crow.

Her red eyes fluttered open, the dim morning light seeping through the cracks of the wooden shutters. Another crow rang out, but this time, there was something... different about it. There was a distinct whoosh sound, followed by the brief flicker of orange light reflecting off the window.

Curious, Vul sat up. She turned her head toward the sound, her movements slow, almost calculated. Stepping off the small bed, she quietly approached the window, peeking outside.

There it was.

A rooster, standing proudly on the rooftop across from her. Its feathers were a mix of dark red and gold, and each time it opened its beak to crow, a small puff of fire escaped its throat. The flames curled in the morning air before fading into nothing.

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Vul's head tilted slightly.

She pressed a hand against the window frame, watching intently. How?

Her eyes studied the rooster's throat as it crowed again. The fire came from inside. But where did it come from? Was it a separate organ? Did it mix something inside its body before expelling it as fire? She needed to see more.

Without even realizing it, Vul climbed up onto the window sill. Her bare feet carefully pressed against the wooden edge, and with the same silent grace she had displayed the night before, she stepped out onto the roof.

The shingles creaked softly beneath her weight, but she paid no mind. Her entire focus was on the rooster.

She crouched down, watching every tiny movement it made. The way its chest puffed before each crow. The slight gurgling sound before the fire manifested. How the flames burned but didn't consume its feathers.

She inched closer.

And closer.

Suddenly, the door behind her flew open.

"VUL—!!!"

Angeline's panicked voice echoed through the room. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight before her.

Vul.

On the roof.

Standing there like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Angeline's stomach twisted into knots. She took a sharp breath. "Vul! What the hell are you doing?! Get back inside this instant!"

Vul didn't even glance back. She was still watching the rooster, completely unfazed by Angeline's frantic voice.

Angeline gritted her teeth. "Vul, please! It's dangerous! You could slip and fall! Do you even hear me?!"

But Vul took another step forward, her red eyes locked onto the rooster, now only inches away.

That was when it happened.

The rooster's body tensed. Its small, beady eyes flicked toward Vul as if only just now realizing she was there.

Then—POOF!

The rooster exploded into a burst of fiery ash.

Vul blinked, confused.

She stared at the scattered remains as the wind carried them away. Why did it do that? She had barely moved. She didn't even touch it.

Before she could dwell on it further, a hand grabbed her wrist.

"Enough of this!" Angeline's voice was shaking. "Get back inside!"

Vul turned her head to see Angeline, her face filled with raw fear and frustration.

She didn't resist. She let Angeline drag her back inside.

After a warm bath and a fresh change of clothes, Vul followed Angeline down the wooden steps of the Laughing Skull Tavern. Her long black hair was still damp, strands clinging to her pale skin as she stepped barefoot onto the tavern floor. The scent of sizzling meat and warm bread filled the air, mixing with the faint staleness of spilled ale.

At one of the tables near the bar, Stefan was already halfway through his breakfast, lazily slicing into a thick cut of ham with a dull knife. He barely glanced up as Angeline and Vul entered.

Behind the bar stood Isaac—the owner of the tavern and Angeline's father. He was a towering man with dark, weathered skin and striking blue eyes.

A thick beard peppered with gray covered his strong jaw, and despite his age, his muscular arms showed the strength of a man still very much in his prime. He wore a simple linen tunic with the sleeves rolled up, exposing forearms lined with old scars, likely from years of handling both kitchen knives and something far deadlier.

As soon as he laid eyes on Vul, he arched a thick brow and leaned forward slightly, resting his broad hands on the wooden counter.

"So, this is the girl you were talkin' about, Angie?" His voice was deep, warm, and carried the weight of authority without needing to raise it. "The one Stefan dragged in last night?"

Angeline nodded, gently guiding Vul toward the bar. "Yeah, that's her." She turned to her father. "Can you keep an eye on her for a bit? I need to eat before I collapse."

Isaac huffed a quiet chuckle and gave her a nod. "Go on, then. I'll keep the little one entertained."

Vul, without hesitation, climbed into one of the chairs by the bar, her crimson eyes peering curiously at the assortment of bottles and cooking utensils behind Isaac.

Isaac studied her for a moment, his blue gaze flicking over her small frame. He clicked his tongue. "Hmph. You're skinnier than a starved stray. No wonder you look half-dead." He reached under the counter and pulled out a book with a worn leather cover, placing it in front of her. "Here. Try readin' this while I work. And don't worry—I'll be sure to spoil you with some desserts later." He smirked. "Might fatten you up a little."

Vul stared at the book, blinking once before slowly opening it.

Meanwhile, Angeline settled into the seat across from Stefan, grabbing a spoon and bowl as she began eating.

Or at least, she tried to.

Her eyes kept drifting toward Vul, watching as she sat in quiet concentration, flipping through the pages of the book with her small, pale fingers. She looked so focused, yet oddly stiff—like she was still trying to figure out how to be in the world.

Angeline frowned slightly, her concern pulling her deeper into thought.

Then, without thinking, she picked up her spoon, dipped it into a bowl—

And took a big sip.

Of water.

Her entire body jerked in betrayal as the cold liquid splashed against her tongue instead of the warm, savory broth she expected.

She nearly choked, coughing into her hand as her eyes went wide in horror.

Stefan, who had been quietly observing this, let out a small chuckle. He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "You're really that worried about her, huh?"

Angeline slammed the spoon down, her face still twisted from the shock of her mistake. "OF COURSE, I AM!" She gestured wildly, nearly knocking over the bowl. "DID YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DID THIS MORNING?!"

Stefan raised a brow. "Do tell."

"She climbed out of the window! The damn window!" Angeline threw up her hands. "And why?! BECAUSE OF A CHICKEN, STEFAN! A CHICKEN!"

Stefan blinked. Then, he burst out laughing. "You're joking."

"DO I LOOK LIKE I'M JOKING?!" Angeline's hands clenched into fists as she fumed. "She was on the damn roof! Watching some fire-breathing rooster like it was a science experiment!"

Stefan tried to suppress his laughter, but the image was just too ridiculous. He snorted. "Well, she was born from an egg. Maybe she felt a connection."

Angeline groaned, rubbing her temples. "You're impossible."

She sighed heavily, sneaking another glance at Vul, who was still buried in the book.

Stefan let out a long, drawn-out sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Angeline, you need to let Vul be... Vul." His tone was calm, but firm, as if he had already accepted something she was still struggling with.

Angeline scowled. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

Stefan set his knife down and crossed his arms. "We found her in a cave, surrounded by corpses—ones just like her." His voice was steady, matter-of-fact. "She wasn't supposed to hatch and imprint. The rest of them were dead—rotting inside their eggs. Yet, somehow, she's here." He tapped a finger on the wooden table

"You keep expecting her to act like us, but she's not like us. Whatever she does—climbing roofs, staring at fire-breathing chickens—it's just her nature. It's not weird to her. It's just... what she is."

Angeline's shoulders slumped, exhaling in frustration. "I know she's not normal, Stefan. But she's more than some animal."

Stefan chuckled, but there was something in his smile—something that didn't quite agree with her.

Angeline narrowed her eyes. "Don't you dare give me that look."

Stefan just smirked and went back to his food.

The conversation died down after that, and they ate in relative silence. The sounds of the tavern filled the space—muffled voices, the distant clatter of dishes, the occasional laugh from a drunken customer.

Then—

Without warning, Vul was just... there.

Neither of them had noticed her approach. One moment she was across the room, reading with Isaac. The next, she was standing at their table, holding two plates of cake—one in each hand.

Her crimson eyes stared at them, unblinking. Then, with perfect clarity, she spoke:

"Here are your desserts. I hope you like it."

Her voice was oddly clear—too clear. Her words were precise, her pronunciation flawless. But there was something off—her tone was flat, eerily controlled, like she wasn't speaking so much as... repeating something she had heard before.

Angeline, mid-bite, choked on her food. She coughed violently, slamming a fist against her chest as her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

Stefan, on the other hand, stiffened slightly, caught off guard—but not surprised. His brows furrowed as he studied her. "...Well, that was fast."

Angeline, still recovering from her near-death experience, wheezed out, "What do you mean, 'that was fast'?! She was barely stringing words together yesterday! Now she's serving cake like a damn tavern maid?!"

Stefan didn't answer immediately. His eyes lingered on Vul, watching the way she held the plates—perfectly still, perfectly balanced. No hesitation, no unnecessary movement.

Like she had practiced.

Stefan stared at Vul, his expression unreadable.

She learns too fast.

The way she spoke, the way she moved—every action felt calculated, as if her body was adjusting to mimic those around her. He had seen quick learners before, but this? This wasn't learning. This was copying.

No hesitation. No mistakes. No wasted movement.

It wasn't human.