> "If you're here, I am not lost; I am found.” - Finnea

The sizzle and clang of utensils grew louder as Nord navigated the labyrinthine hallways of the manor, her boots making soft thuds on the ornate carpets. The aroma of fried eggs and toasted bread guided her like an invisible hand. With each step, her heart pounded faster, a bubble of anticipation building inside her.

As she reached the kitchen door, she hesitated. Her hand touched the wooden frame, her pulse throbbing in her ears. A feeling, not quite definable, held her back for a moment. Was it excitement? Hope? She shook off the uncertainty and pushed the door open, almost running through.

But her heart sank as she stepped inside, and her eyes met the figure standing over the stove. The vampire back turned to her and was flipping an egg on a skillet. The bubble burst, deflated by a sudden, crushing disappointment.

She had no idea who she had been expecting, but it wasn't him.

"Good morning, Nord, you're up. I made breakfast," the man said, turning around to smile at her.

But Nord felt a knot tighten in her stomach. "Thank you," she managed to say, her voice devoid of enthusiasm. She sat at the kitchen table, her eyes wandering from the bowl of fresh fruit to the jar of homemade jam, then finally to the sizzling pan on the stove.

But her mind was elsewhere, tangled up in questions she couldn't answer. Who had she hoped to see standing there, flipping eggs and buttering toast? Someone from a memory she couldn't recall? A face to fill the void left by last night's emotional whirlwind?

Adamastor's smile was warm as he completed the breakfast spread, placing a variety of dishes on the table with care. "I wasn't sure about your preferences, so I made what Rosemary usually enjoyed."

Nord took her seat, eyeing the meticulously prepared table. "This is more than fine. You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"I like keeping busy," Adamastor replied, sitting down across from her with an empty plate in front of him. He served her eggs, placed a few slices of orange beside them, and added a strange-looking jelly slice to her plate. "I hope it's to your taste. I can't actually taste anything, so I had to rely on the cookbook's instructions."

"Thank you," Nord said, picking up her fork and sampling the eggs. They were cooked just right, the yolk a golden, gooey centre surrounded by fluffy whites. She savoured the flavour before glancing up at Adamastor's empty plate. "Why have a plate if you're not eating?"

"It makes the company a bit less awkward, I suppose," Adamastor said, his eyes twinkling with an amicable light.

Nord chuckled softly, taking another bite of her eggs before moving on to try the jelly slice. It was a unique blend of tangy and sweet, a culinary experiment that paid off. "The outfit you left in my room—it was perfect," she finally said, addressing the elephant in the room. "It was you, right?"

"Yes, it was me. I'm glad you liked it," Adamastor replied. "It belonged to Rosemary, but I thought it would suit you as well."

For a moment, the air was heavy with unspoken questions. Nord felt her mind retrace the morning's steps, from the unexpected outfit to the mysterious scent that filled the air. Adamastor seemed like a benign presence, but Nord still felt a sense of caution, an awareness of the gaps in her understanding.

Nord took another bite of her eggs, savouring the flavours before setting down her fork. "Yes, thank you. Do people always dress like this here?"

Adamastor looked slightly puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"The long dresses, the corsets. Is this common attire?"

"For women, yes. Men usually wear trousers," he paused, searching for the right words. "Rosemary had albums filled with photographs of herself, Frank, their friends, and townspeople. Maybe those could give you a clearer idea. I don't know how things were in your world."

"We used to dress like this a long time ago, so it caught my attention," Nord said, picking up her fork again to tackle more eggs. "Is there a map of the area in the house?"

"In the study, yes," Adamastor replied, "There's one on the wall."

"I'll have a look later. I want to scout the surroundings."

Adamastor's eyebrows rose, a tinge of curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Why?"

"I want to find Kirara," Nord said, her voice tinged with determination.

Adamastor nodded, sensing the weight of her intent. "Kirara? Is that someone important to you?"

Nord paused, a flurry of memories and emotions surfacing, but none she could fully grasp. "Yes," she said softly, "Very important."

Stepping out of the manor, Nord found herself captivated by the landscape that unfurled before her. The expanse of Ravendrift was a rich tapestry of vibrant greens, a luxuriant meadow that seemed to stretch infinitely. At the horizon, where the emerald fields kissed the sky, the outline of a forest took shape, its foliage an even deeper shade of green.

A worn path caught her eye, its presence contrasting with the untouched nature around it. Adamastor had mentioned it led to Tear Lake. Even the name seemed to carry the weight of sorrow. Nord couldn't help but wonder if the sadness that seemed to permeate this world was intentional or coincidental.

Taking a deep breath, she began to follow the path. The air was crisp and fresh, tinged with the earthy scent of grass and soil. As she walked, her boots made soft crunching sounds, each step a rhythm accompanying her thoughts.

Clutching a small plate of fresh chicken ham, Nord ventured further along the path, her eyes scanning the landscape intently. Every few steps, she'd call out, "Kirara!" Her voice pierced the stillness, resonating through the acres of open land.

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She stopped occasionally, hopeful eyes searching for any movement—a flicker of fur, a scurrying shape—anything that might indicate the presence of her lost companion. But each pause was met with silence, the empty landscape offering no response.

Nord continued her trek, her steps growing heavier with each call for Kirara that went unanswered. Her eyes were now glued to the ground, scanning for any sign— a tuft of fur, a paw print—anything that would give her a clue to her pet's whereabouts.

She reached the edge of Tear Lake and began to circle its perimeter. The setting sun's reflection on the water was almost poetic, but its beauty was lost on her. All she could think about was the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, the gnawing dread that she might not find Kirara alive.

Nord suddenly peeked at a figure close squatting over a campfire, her heart pounding. She picked up her skirt and sprinted toward it. As she neared, the silhouette by the fire stood, revealing a young elf woman. Her ethereal beauty was arresting, but it was the intense, determined look in her eyes that truly captured Nord's attention.

"Excuse me," Nord panted, catching her breath as she approached the camp. "I didn't mean to startle you. My name is Nord, and I'm looking for my lost pet, Kirara. Have you seen anything? She is an orange tabby cat."

The ethereal glow of the elf's armour made her appear as if she had stepped out of a tale of legends and heroes. The intricate details on her magnificent shield and the lethal sharpness of her sword imbued her with an air of formidable prowess. It was as if she were a guardian spirit, a protector of some sort.

Caught in the spell of the woman's awe-inspiring appearance, Nord found her voice faltering. "Hi," she stammered, her eyes darting from the elf's shield to her sword and finally meeting her gaze. "I'm sorry to bother you, but have you seen a cat?"

The elf's eyes remained unyielding, her face impassive as she scrutinized Nord. Her voice was laden with a kind of ancient authority when she finally spoke. "I'm waiting for your command."

Recognition dawned on Nord. She had seen those intense eyes and that battle-ready stance before. "You helped me," she stated, her voice tinged with disbelief, “At the Initiation, you helped against the gargoyle!”

"No, I obeyed you," the elf corrected sharply, her grip still firm on her shield.

Confused, Nord glanced around the serene landscape, contrasting it with the urgency in the elf's demeanour. "Are you lost?" she inquired.

"If you're here, I am not lost; I am found," the elf responded, her tone tinged with what could only be described as an otherworldly sense of duty.

"I see," Nord mumbled, scratching her head in bewilderment. "This conversation is going nowhere."

"What is your command?" the elf reiterated, her eyes locked onto Nord's as if awaiting some great order that would define her very existence.

Shaking off her confusion, Nord got straight to the point. "Look, I'm very grateful you helped me, but I have no idea why you're behaving like an outdated AI. Have you seen my cat?"

"Yes."

The one-word response was like a key turning in a lock, instantly sharpening Nord's attention. "Where? Where did you see her?"

The elf finally moved, shifting her weight and pointing her sword towards the forest's edge. "She ventured into the trees at dawn. Seemed curious but cautious calling your name."

A mix of relief and apprehension washed over Nord. Kirara was alive, but the forest was a vast and unpredictable place. "Thank you," she muttered, her eyes meeting the elves again. "I need to find her."

"Shall I accompany you?" the elf asked, her eyes still locked onto Nord's.

Nord hesitated, still unsure how to handle the elf's intense subservience. But time was of the essence. "Yes, please help me find her."

"As you command," the elf said, sheathing her sword as she fell into step beside Nord, her armour shimmering with every step they took towards the uncertainty of the forest.

Their footsteps were the only sounds that broke the silence as they crunched over leaves and twigs, both lost in their thoughts. Nord followed behind the elf, her gaze frequently darting to the woman leading her. She noticed the elf's deliberate steps and how she remained slightly ahead, leading the way but never waiting.

"Do you have a name?" Nord finally broke the silence, the question hanging in the air like a fragile bubble.

"Do you wish me to have a name?" the elf retorted without missing a step, her voice almost a whisper amid the rustling leaves.

Nord hesitated, suddenly unsure of her own question. "Don't all things and people have a name?" The words left her lips before she could reel them back in, and her thoughts immediately flashed to the two moons—nameless.

"Finnea," the elf declared after a pause as if carefully weighing the power of names before gifting herself one—or perhaps acknowledging the one she had all along.

"Finnea," Nord repeated, rolling the name around in her mouth like a new taste she was learning to appreciate. "That's a beautiful name."

Finnea didn't reply but shifted her grip on her shield and sword, a subtle rustle of metal and leather. Her eyes focused on the path ahead, navigating the undergrowth and the hidden roots like a seasoned warrior.

"Thank you for helping me," Nord added softly, watching Finnea's armoured back as they moved further into the forest.

"I obey your command," Finnea replied, a note of finality in her voice, as if that simple fact settled everything, closed all questions and silenced all doubts. "My master once told me that my name didn't mean anything. It's just a series of sounds that fit me," Finnea said, her voice devoid of any emotion as if she were stating a fact rather than sharing a personal detail.

Nord cocked an eyebrow and looked sideways at Finnea. "It's a beautiful name, though. So, who is this mysterious master of yours?"

"I'm not permitted to say," Finnea replied, her eyes locked straight ahead.

"And where might he be?"

"Again, I can't say."

"Why?" Nord pressed.

Finnea stopped in her tracks, finally turning her head to look Nord directly in the eyes. "It was his last command to me. I am here to serve you, obey you, and protect you with my life. I cannot tell you anything more about him."

Nord shook her head, "That doesn't sound fair to me. Look, if you don't want to be here, you're free to go. I won't keep you against your will."

Without skipping a beat, Finnea resumed her purposeful stride through the forest. "You misunderstand. It's not about whether I want to be here or not. You're not keeping me. I'm fulfilling my duties as I was instructed. Your wants and my master's commands are my directives. And right now, they are one and the same."

Nord found herself pausing, watching as Finnea resumed her steady march. Her words had an unsettling finality to Finnea's, an unspoken boundary she wasn't allowed to cross. And yet, the elf's unfailing loyalty posed a moral dilemma for Nord—was she taking advantage of another being's obedience? Or worse, was she entangled in a web of obligations she never asked for?

"The same?" Nord finally asked, catching up to Finnea.

"You're not keeping me against my will," Finnea clarified, her voice unwavering. "My will is to obey his last command. To serve, obey, and protect you, as I said."

"But why me? What makes me worthy of such devotion?" Nord's voice tinged with curiosity and unease.

Finnea stopped walking again, this time turning around to look Nord directly in the eyes. "Worthiness is not a factor. His commands are absolute. I am to protect you. Whether you deem yourself worthy or not, I don't care."

Nord met Finnea's gaze and found no hint of resentment or yearning for freedom—only the stern focus of duty. It was a dedication she couldn't quite fathom, much less reciprocate.

"Alright," Nord said, looking away, "let's keep going then. We have to find Kirara."

Finnea nodded, turning back around to continue leading the way. They moved in silence once more, but now the quiet was a bit heavier, loaded with the ethical ambiguities and unasked questions that hovered in the air between them.

Finally, they heard a cry. A long, stammering cry of a woman. "There she is!" claimed Finnea, "I can hear her!"

"What?"

Finnea's eyes sharpened as she shifted direction, leading Nord toward the source of the cry. Nord's heart pounded in her chest, praying that the noise was indeed someone holding her Kirara and not another distressed creature or, worse, a trap of some sort.

Pushing aside low-hanging branches and bristling foliage, they soon arrived at a small clearing.