The world had exploded.

Colors had swirled, blinding, burning into her retinas. Her scales tingled, an electric warmth spreading through her body, jolting her to the core. It felt as though something ancient and powerful was awakening within her, rewriting her very being, tearing her apart and putting her back together in a new form. The sensation had been overwhelming, terrifying. She had wanted to scream, but the air itself vibrated with an energy that stole her breath, silenced her voice.

Then, the System. A surge of energy had filled her, changed her, reshaped her. It was terrifying. Exhilarating.

The first word came slowly, tentatively. “You.”

Then another.

And another.

And then, a flood of knowledge. She spoke his language. Understood his words. But understanding brought no solace, no comfort. He had taken everything from her, dragged her into his broken, chaotic world, offered her a glimpse of power only to reveal its true cost.

“Where are they? My people?” Her voice—now his, yet still hers—had been sharp with grief, with accusation. “Where’s my home? How could you let this happen?”

He had avoided her gaze, collapsing under the weight of his injuries, clearly poisoned and suffering. They had stumbled back through the alleys to that crumbling ruin, to the dark underground, to gather... skins and claws and a little glowing rock, before heading back out.

Then the marketplace—a riot of colors and smells. It had felt... familiar, reminiscent of the trading rituals, the haggling and bartering with neighboring tribes for spices, herbs, hides, tools. But this... this was on a grander scale. Hundreds of humans, their movements jerky, their eyes glazed, surrounded by stalls overflowing with goods—from colorful fabric scraps to strange, glinting metals. She could sense their emotions, smell their fear and desperation, a palpable hum that reverberated through her newly awakened senses. She had watched as the boy struggled to sell, to trade, the fear on his face unmistakable, his strength a fragile façade in this crowded, chaotic space. His weakness was magnified by the weight of the knowledge he had burdened her with, the world he had revealed.

And something within her had surged forward. She had stepped in front of him, had claimed those scraps from the realm as hers. Using his language, her strange new voice, she had bartered, sold, acquired the coins he so desperately needed. They were small victories—the exchange of tokens for resources, a fleeting reprieve from relentless hunger. But in that moment, amidst the swirling energy of the market, the desperation, the deceit, the chaos—she had felt a flicker of power, a thrill that went beyond her own survival.

The bartering, the negotiations—it was a language she knew. She had taken control, stepping forward as he faltered, his voice weakening, his body succumbing to the poison’s touch. Her words, his words, had been sharp, efficient, precise. “Eight bronze. Not a coin less.”

It was a small victory, a moment of control.

But the warmth of that victory had faded as quickly as the life bleeding from his skin, as quickly as the laughter of her people that would never again grace the evening air, as quickly as the vibrant green that had faded from her scales, consumed by this cold, empty world.

He was dying. She could see it—the poison consuming him from the inside out, stealing his strength, his life.

“This is your fault.”

She had blamed him, yes. It was easy to blame him. But as he dragged her through the marketplace, desperate to find a cure, to save her, a new understanding had dawned.

They were both prisoners. Both victims of this force that had drawn them together. Of the Void, as he had called it. Of the System, which he had worshipped. Of the whispers she could feel echoing in her newly awakened heart, murmuring of a path, a destiny she hadn’t chosen, a journey they would have to navigate... together.

The smell of the medicine, the potions—she would never forget them. The market had its own scents, its own secrets. But this was life and death, not bartering over scales or trinkets.

The System was always there, a relentless whisper in her mind, changing her in ways she couldn’t fully grasp. They were both bound, she realized. By the System, by this broken world. By the past that shaped us and the future it’s forcing us toward. Two sides of the same shattered coin.

Kael. His name, a foreign sound she was slowly growing accustomed to. It felt as if a part of him was now a part of her—the hunger, the fear.

He had spoken then, his voice soft, a low rumble that was both soothing and unsettling. He was explaining, finally telling her his story. A dark story. A brutal story. His friends had betrayed him.

His family had abandoned him.

His city had scarred him.

He remembered those days clearly... It had only been a few days since he’d been with a group—like a family. Orphans... Mudtown. He had been rambling then, his words a jumble, his voice rough with exhaustion.

“Mudtown.” She had echoed the word, the syllables heavy on her tongue. Yet, somehow, she had understood. “That place.”

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“It was where they abandoned you?” Her anger had risen as he spoke.

He had flinched, as if the word itself held a physical weight.

“They traded you for... protection? From whom?” That city... the darkness in his voice had been a symphony of fear that echoed within her.

He had looked at her then, his eyes full of a pain she had only glimpsed in those about to be devoured.

“The Mud Rats.” He had spat the words, as if their very mention left a foul taste in his mouth.

“Rats? Humans? Why?” She hadn’t understood. Couldn’t comprehend it. A life where loyalty and family—the very foundations of her own community—had been so easily discarded. It defied all logic, all sense of reason.

“They abandoned me. Because I was... weak, a burden.” The self-pity in his voice had made her want to strike him.

She understood now. He was not a hero, but a survivor. A boy from a world of shadows and constant struggle.

He was trying. That was… something. She remembered the creature—the Blightmaw—and the way its power had crushed everything she had known. Kael was different. He carried a similar power within him, yes. She could feel it, the Shard humming beneath his skin. But he was also weak. Fragile. Vulnerable.

And he was offering his hand. A human gesture. She knew that now. It had taken time to learn his words, his customs. He had to be taught, just as she had. The language. The way to sit, the way to eat, the way to use these tools.

A spark ignited within her then.

Not hope, not yet.

But a flicker of understanding. A shared language, not just of words, but of experience, of pain. It was a thin thread, a fragile connection in the vast darkness. But it was enough.

The savory aroma filled her senses, warmth spreading through her stomach. A comfort she hadn’t known she craved. He was right.

She sighed. The world—a kaleidoscope of flickering light, of smells both enticing and repulsive—settled. The grief lingered, yes. Her home. Gone. She thought of Vask, his laughter, the warmth of the communal firepit. It was a memory fading into the fog he had dragged her through, the System offering no way to return, to reconnect.

Her home had been a symphony of quiet life— the low croak of frogs, the soft rustle of reeds, the gentle sway of water. Here, the city’s noise was a relentless clamor, a cacophony of harsh voices and clanging metal that grated against her ears. Even the air was different, thin and acrid, lacking the rich, earthy scent of her swamp.

“I’m stuck here?” she had said, the words falling from her lips like stones dropped into a deep, dark well. She stared down at her claws, once tools, now a clumsy, hindering burden, scratching uselessly against the hard surface of this… table. It was all so different, so alien, so terrifyingly permanent. The warmth of the inn’s fire, the steady cadence of human speech around them, offered no comfort.

Her tribe, the village nestled in the heart of her watery home—a world where she had been finding her place, preparing to take her mother’s role, tending the small, carefully cultivated patches of mushrooms and herbs, helping her father trade and sell basic necessities for the village. The memories, now tinged with bittersweet melancholy, of her father’s stories told around the firepit, of the hunts, the rituals, the changing seasons. Of the creatures—not to be destroyed, but respected, honored as part of the realm’s balance.

“These humans… they don’t respect anything.” The painful clarity of that knowledge settled upon her, echoing the boy’s whispered confessions. He had told her of this city, of Mudtown—a place where even children were forced to fight, to steal, to betray, just to survive.

“They will eat me alive,” she thought, the words too terrible to speak, the fear an icy grip around her heart.

They sat in silence, the fire’s warmth a cruel mockery of her inner chill. She watched him struggle to speak—this human, this boy with the strange power. She’d seen him fighting in the realm.

A warrior. A predator. But here, surrounded by his kind, he seemed... small, uncertain. And the terrible understanding that they were both trapped, that she was at his mercy, made her heart ache, made the scales along her spine prickle with cold dread.

Here, he was weak. Fragile. His body was a tapestry of injuries, a testament to the battles he’d fought in those realms. The memory of him collapsing, his skin turning a sickly gray as the creature’s poison coursed through him—a terrifying reminder of the dangers that lurked in this world.

A part of her wanted to lash out, to demand answers he couldn’t give. To blame him, not just for dragging her into this nightmare, but for being so... human. For embodying all that was chaotic and unpredictable. And yet, she couldn’t ignore the way he looked at her— as if she was the only anchor in a storm neither of them could control.

They were stuck here. And he was all she had. Perhaps, she was all that he had, as well.

The weight of that realization settled over her, heavier than the shadows, more menacing than any creature’s growl. But maybe, just maybe, this broken human was her only chance at survival.

The bowl was empty. He was watching her now, the warmth of the fire reflected in his eyes, and in those dark depths, a flicker of something else. Hope, perhaps? Or maybe just the reflection of the flames, a fleeting illusion.

He had taken so much from her—her world, her family, her identity. But in the midst of this chaos, he’d offered her... this. A bowl of soup. A place to sit. And, perhaps most importantly, companionship in the face of overwhelming darkness. It wasn’t enough, would never be enough, to mend what was broken. But as he reached for her hand, his touch a tentative bridge across the chasm of their shared loss, a tiny spark of warmth flickered within her, a flicker against the encroaching cold.

Kael pushed himself back from the table, his movements stiff and hesitant, a reminder of his injuries. The warmth of the fire, the muted voices of the inn’s patrons, created a strange sense of normalcy that she’d never experienced before, but it didn’t erase the ache in her heart.

He was still staring at her. “I brought you to this place. I'll figure it out, Yareeth.” He said it softly, almost hesitantly, but she could see the truth of his intentions reflected in his gaze, the depth of his commitment. “We'll make it through this,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the uncertainty in his eyes. “Together.” His words were a promise. But would he keep them?

Her claws flexed against the wooden table, the memory of her father’s voice echoing in her mind. 'Strength is not in never bending, Yareeth, but in knowing when to stand firm and when to flow like water.' This world demanded a different kind of strength, one she wasn’t sure she possessed. But she would learn. For herself, for her people—whatever was left of them. She would find a way.

“Together?” she whispered.

"Together."

It wasn’t enough, but it was a start.

They were in this together now.

Her mind swirled with doubts and accusations, each one a barbed whisper in the silence between them. Trust. It felt like a foreign word, a fragile thread she didn’t know how to hold onto. And yet... what other choice did she have? Alone, she was lost in this vast, hostile world. But maybe, just maybe, together they could find a path through the darkness.

She had to trust him. Trust the Shard. Trust the System. Trust this world.

It was the only way forward.