Ingrid pushed her way through the tall grass, ducking under low-hanging branches as she walked. Thorsten's booted feet thumped heavily behind her, almost drowning out the gentle rustling of the leaves overhead. The midday sun beat down on her neck, causing sweat to trickle uncomfortably between her shoulders.

She reached up to adjust her the straps on her breastplate, hoping to ease some of the pressure on her chest. It wasn't the most comfortable armor, but it had served her well over the years. She knew better than to complain.

Glancing over her shoulder, Ingrid saw Thorsten lumbering behind her, his axe slung over his shoulder. His burly frame contrasted with her lithe form, and his dark beard gave him a fierce appearance that had frightened off many a foe in battle. But she knew there was a soft heart underneath his gruff exterior.

"Let's take a break," she suggested, gesturing to a fallen log nearby.

Thorsten plopped himself down gratefully, unscrewing a waterskin and taking a long sip. Ingrid perched beside him, chewing on a strip of dried meat from her pack. She stared out into the distance, where the tall grass gave way to the ancient city ruins. The crumbling stonework of the buildings stood out in stark relief against the clear blue sky, their dark shadows casting long lines across the ground.

"So, what do you think of those ruins?" Ingrid asked, breaking the silence.

Thorsten grunted, swallowing a mouthful of water. "Hmph. Big. Old. Not much else to say about them." He replaced the cap on the waterskin and stowed it away. "Seems like a waste of time, wandering around in the dust and cobwebs when we could be making progress on the road."

"The goddess wants to know more about this valley and its history," Ingrid reminded him. "Besides, don't you find it fascinating to imagine who could have built such a place, and why? It could be a source of valuable knowledge for us."

"Nah, it's all a bunch of rocks and stone walls. Nothing useful there," Thorsten countered. "Might as well try to learn about the local flowers and bugs, if we're going to go poking around for nonsense like that."

Ingrid laughed, shaking her head. "Ever the pragmatist, eh, Thorsten?"

"Someone has to be," he grumbled, shifting his weight to lean back against the log. "Those arcanists and artificers always looking for some new shiny thing to chase, never seeing the practicality behind it. Pfah. I prefer the simple life, with clear goals and clear rewards. Now, a good axe in hand and a monster to cleave... That's something I understand."

He lifted his axe from his belt and brandished it, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Ingrid rolled her eyes, but couldn't help chuckling. Thorsten always enjoyed a good joke.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, watching the swaying grass and listening to the quiet breeze rustling the leaves above them. The afternoon sun warmed their faces as they basked in the peaceful atmosphere.

After a few moments, Thorsten stirred, clapping his hands together and rising to his feet. "Right, let's get back to this. If we'll be spending time digging through rocks and dirt, I'd rather make sure we've scouted out the area thoroughly first. Better safe than sorry, as they say."

Ingrid nodded, also standing. "Very well. I'll follow your lead."

Together, they set off through the grasslands once more, their path leading them further away from the ruins. The forest grew denser as they moved deeper into the wilderness, the canopy blocking out more and more of the sun's rays. The air became cooler and more damp, the soil beneath their feet softer and less dry. It was a welcome change from the heat and brightness of the fields outside the ruins, and Ingrid breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh, clean scent.

Her companion, however, was not quite as relaxed as she was. Thorsten scanned their surroundings constantly, his head swiveling from side to side as he walked, his grip tightening on the handle of his axe. Ingrid understood his concern, but she doubted anything particularly dangerous was lurking in the forest.

Still, she stayed vigilant, her hand resting casually on the hilt of her sword. After all, one could never be too careful in the wilderness.

Their route took them along a narrow stream that flowed gently from the hills surrounding the ruins, winding its way through the trees and bushes. Ingrid stopped to refill her waterskin, and the cold water soothed her parched throat. She splashed her face, washing away the dirt and sweat from the day's journey, before resuming her trek through the forest.

As they hiked, Ingrid began to notice the tracks left by other animals and creatures. Hoofprints of deer dotted the muddy banks of the stream, while claw marks scored the tree trunks nearby. She paused, examining one set of prints more closely. "What do you make of these, Thorsten?" she asked, pointing to the indentations.

Thorsten frowned, studying the tracks for a moment before replying. "Looks like some kind of bird, maybe?" His frown deepened as he traced his fingers along the grooves. "Pretty big one, too. Talons are almost as long as my hand."

Ingrid's gaze trailed the length of the track, noting the depth of the imprint and the size of the toes. "We might be dealing with some kind of predatory avian," she surmised, following the trail for a few meters. "The track seems fresh, and it headed that way. We should be wary."

Thorsten chuckled. "Bah. It's probably long gone by now. Still, I wouldn't mind bringing down a fat duck or two for supper tonight. Wouldn't that be a fine meal, eh?"

"Ducks have webbed feet," Ingrid pointed out, rolling her eyes. "These are talons. They belong to a different class of animal altogether."

"A fat owl, then," Thorsten retorted with a smirk. "They can fly, but I bet I could catch one with my bare hands. Imagine the look on Urien's face if I showed up with a giant bird to roast for dinner!"

Ingrid bit back a laugh, shaking her head. "Whatever you say, Thorsten. Just don't come crying to me when you get pecked to death."

With that, she continued on her way, following the stream's meandering path through the forest. The terrain gradually began to slope upwards, and she soon found herself climbing over fallen logs and scrambling across steep embankments. Thorsten followed close behind, his large frame making the trek more difficult, but he kept pace with her easily enough.

Eventually, the two emerged from the trees, finding themselves at the top of a ridge overlooking the ruins. From here, they could see the vast expanse of the city spread out below them, its ruined buildings and structures rising like jagged teeth from the earth. It was a striking sight, and Ingrid paused for a moment to take it in.

"Not bad, eh?" Thorsten remarked, shielding his eyes from the sun's glare as he surveyed the landscape. "Could've used a little more alehouses though."

Ingrid chuckled. "Weren't you the one complaining about wasting our time earlier?" she teased. "Now you seem to be enjoying yourself."

"A man can change his mind," Thorsten retorted with a playful grin. "Maybe it'll be fun to see what old bits of junk those eggheads dig up from down there. Might be something useful in those dusty halls for once."

"Well, let's hope so," Ingrid said, patting his arm. "Come on, the day is wearing on. Best we return to camp before dark."

----------------------------------------

As they made their way back to camp through the dense foliage, Ingrid spotted something moving ahead. She held up a hand to signal to Thorsten, and they both froze in their tracks. Crouching low, she peered through the thicket, trying to make out what was happening.

The sound of crunching bones and tearing flesh echoed through the air, and Ingrid shuddered, gripping her sword more tightly. She motioned for Thorsten to follow her, and they crept forward, careful not to make any noise.

As they drew closer, she could see the outline of a human girl hunched over the carcass of a deer. But something wasn't right. The girl had wings for arms, and bird-like legs that ended in talons that dug deep into the flesh of the deer she was eating.

Ingrid gasped in surprise, and the girl's head whipped up, her teal-green eyes locking onto hers.

In a flash, the girl was on her feet, feathers ruffling, her wings outstretched. Her lips curled back, revealing rows of sharp fangs that glistened with blood. She let out a screech that split the air, and then she lunged, barreling towards them with alarming speed.

Ingrid barely had time to draw her sword before the girl collided with her, knocking her to the ground. The two wrestled briefly, the girl's sharp talons raking across her armor and scratching her cheeks. But Ingrid managed to regain her footing and push the girl away, gaining a bit of distance.

The girl hissed, crouching low, preparing for another attack. Her eyes darted from Ingrid to Thorsten, her expression feral and wild.

"Is she some sort of beastkin?" Thorsten murmured, holding his axe in front of him defensively.

"I don't know," Ingrid replied, circling the girl warily. "But she's clearly dangerous. We need to subdue her somehow."

"Aye, but how? I don't think she speaks our tongue." Thorsten grunted as the girl lunged at him, her claws narrowly missing his face as he dodged to the side. "Fast little devil, too!"

Ingrid tried to distract the girl with feints and lunges of her own, but the winged girl was too quick and agile. She evaded all of Ingrid's attempts to draw her in, dancing out of reach with surprising grace.

"I don't suppose we could scare her away?" Thorsten suggested, ducking another swipe from the girl's talons. "Make enough noise to scare her off, like we would a wild animal."

Stolen novel; please report.

"She doesn't seem intimidated by us," Ingrid replied, sidestepping an attempt by the girl to slash at her legs. "I'm not sure that's an option here."

Thorsten grunted in acknowledgment, swinging his axe in an arc to try and keep the girl at bay but she dodged the blow easily, launching herself into the air on powerful wingbeats, before diving at Ingrid, talons outstretched. Ingrid swung her sword to intercept the attack, but the girl twisted midair, avoiding the strike. She landed nimbly on her feet and lashed out again, her talons catching Ingrid on the arm this time. Blood welled up, and Ingrid grimaced in pain.

"That's it!" Thorsten bellowed, tossing his axe to the ground. "I've had enough of this!" He crouched, his muscles tensing, and let out a deafening roar that seemed to echo through the forest, startling birds into flight and causing the air to tremble.

The girl squeaked in surprise and stumbled, her eyes widening in fear. She cowered, flapping her wings frantically, as if trying to escape.

Thorsten seized the opportunity and dove at her, pinning her to the ground. "Gotcha!" he cried triumphantly, restraining her flailing limbs. Ingrid rushed forward to assist, securing the girl's taloned feet and wings as best she could.

The girl struggled weakly, her eyes darting back and forth between the two warriors. She seemed to realize her situation and slumped in defeat, a low hiss escaping her lips.

"That's better," Thorsten panted, his grip loosening slightly. "Now, are you going to behave yourself, or do we have to tie you up?"

The girl didn't reply, but her gaze lingered on the gash on Ingrid's arm.

Thorsten shrugged and pulled a length of rope from his pack, tying her wings and legs securely. He stood back, inspecting his handiwork. "There, that should hold her. For now, at least."

Ingrid rose to her feet, clutching the wound on her arm. "What do you think we should do with her? There are probably others of her kind in this area somewhere, and I doubt they're going to appreciate our capture of this one."

Thorsten scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Best to bring her back to camp, I think. Ebonheim can decide what to do with her. Maybe she'll be able to communicate with her, since Ebonheim seems to be good at speaking with animals and whatnot." He scooped the girl up, ignoring her protests. "Let's get moving. I'm hungry and tired, and this bird-girl smells like raw meat."

----------------------------------------

Ebonheim rose from the log she'd been sitting on, dusting off her dress. She turned toward the cooking pot, where Urien and Lorne were busy stirring the contents and adding more ingredients. The aroma wafting from the pot was delicious and appetizing, and Ebonheim's stomach growled.

It had been a long day of exploring and she was looking forward to a hot meal.

"Are Thorsten and Ingrid back yet?" She looked around for them, wondering where they'd gotten to. Last she checked, they headed out to explore the area beyond the ruins. "Has anyone seen them?"

Urien wiped the sweat from his brow, setting the ladle aside. "No, not since they left earlier this afternoon. But I'm sure they'll turn up."

Lorne added another log to the fire, stirring the flames into a blaze. He settled down beside Urien, resting his back against a nearby rock. "I'm sure they'll be back soon. They probably just lost track of time while out there."

Ebonheim nodded. "I hope so. I worry that they might've gotten hurt or encountered trouble while searching the area." She stretched her arms above her head, sighing deeply. "If they don't return within an hour, I'm heading out to find them."

Just then, Thorsten's voice rang out across the clearing. "Oi, ye lot! Look who we found!" He lumbered into view, carrying a squirming girl wrapped up in ropes. "She's a right nuisance, but we got her captured and subdued."

Ebonheim stepped forward, and then her eyes widened.

The girl looked human, albeit with wings instead of arms and talons instead of feet. Her eyes were wild and panicked, and her feathers were ruffled and disheveled. She screeched and thrashed against the ropes, struggling to free herself.

She's...a harpy.

What was a harpy doing around here? And why had Thorsten captured her?

As Thorsten approached, Ingrid came into view from behind, a large gash on her arm. "We ran into her while we were out scouting. She was feeding on a deer, and she attacked us when she realized we were there. We managed to subdue her and tie her up, but I think we might need your help, goddess."

"Let me take care of your wound first," Ebonheim said, waving Ingrid over. "Then we can deal with the harpy." She examined Ingrid's injury and used her 'Ailment-Cleansing Pulse' ability to heal the wound. The flesh knit itself back together, leaving only a faint scar. Ebonheim gently traced her fingers over the scar, the pink skin fading back to the usual pale tone. "There, all done."

Ingrid flexed her arm, testing it. "Thank you, goddess."

With that taken care of, Ebonheim turned her attention to the young harpy. She knelt in front of the girl, who stared back at her with wide, frightened eyes.

"I won't hurt you," Ebonheim assured her, reaching out to stroke her hair soothingly. The girl flinched away from her touch, but Ebonheim persisted, smoothing her tangled locks. "What's your name?"

The girl didn't answer. She simply watched Ebonheim warily, her wings trembling.

"How did you get here? Are you alone?" Ebonheim questioned. When no reply came, she sighed softly. "Can you understand me?"

The harpy hesitated, then nodded slowly, her eyes locked with Ebonheim's.

"Good, I'm glad," Ebonheim said. "Listen, we don't mean any harm. You're safe here, and I promise to protect you." She stroked the girl's hair again, hoping to reassure her. "What's your name?"

The harpy stilled, seeming to relax slightly. She blinked at Ebonheim, then slowly parted her lips to speak. "G-Gwynelle. N-name is Gwynelle."

The others gathered around, watching the exchange with interest. Ebonheim continued stroking the girl's hair gently. "Nice to meet you, Gwynelle. I'm Ebonheim, and these are my companions." She gestured to the others in the group.

"W-why?" Gwynelle asked, her voice quivering. "Why are you helping? Why am I not..." She trailed off, glancing at the others apprehensively.

"You're not what?" Ebonheim asked, tilting her head curiously.

"Not...k-killing me," Gwynelle mumbled, her gaze dropping to the ground. "The w-weak is prey. S-strong is hunter."

Thorsten mumbled something to Ingrid, who punched him in the arm.

Ebonheim made out the words, "Fat owl...roasted duck," and sighed. She shook her head. "We aren't hunting you, Gwynelle. There's been a misunderstanding."

Gwynelle looked confused. "M-misunderstanding?" She shifted her weight, her talons sinking into the earth. "N-no killing? Not prey?"

"No killing. Not prey," Ebonheim repeated, smiling reassuringly. "We're the ones intruding. Is this your territory? Are there other harpies living nearby?"

Gwynelle nodded shyly. "Y-yes. Our valley."

Serelle cleared her throat. "The girl is a harpy. They're a race of beings that combine the traits of humans and birds. They can be quite territorial and aggressive, so it's likely that she mistook you for invaders and acted in self-defense."

"Harpy, eh?" Urien mused, folding his arms across his chest. "First time I've seen one. I figured she was another kind of beastkin."

Lorne eyed Gwynelle appraisingly, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Beastkin are descendants of human transmutation experiments by arcanists of old. This creature is something else entirely." He reached out to touch her wings, but Gwynelle hissed at him, scooting backwards. "Intriguing."

Ebonheim shooed him away. "Easy there. She's scared and confused." She turned back to Gwynelle, who was huddling close to her.

Hmm. If they were in harpies' territory, they might be perceived as hostile invaders. She needed to approach this situation carefully.

"May we stay here for a time?" she asked gently. "We mean no harm, and will respect the boundaries of your territory."

Gwynelle blinked. "S-stay?" She glanced at the others in the group. "All of you?"

"Yes," Ebonheim said, nodding. "We're building a road through this area, but we'll try not to disturb you too much. Would that be alright with you?"

Gwynelle didn't respond at first, chewing on her lower lip thoughtfully. Eventually, she met Ebonheim's gaze and spoke in a quiet voice. "O-only the queen may s-say yes or no. I am n-not leader. Not strong."

"Oh, I see," Ebonheim said, considering. "Would you be willing to take us to your queen? If she allows us to stay, we'll help you with anything you need. Anything within reason, of course."

Gwynelle nodded. "T-take you to queen." She lifted one bound foot, raising her eyebrows. "F-free? Please."

Thorsten made a noise in protest, but Ebonheim silenced him with a glance. "Of course. I trust you won't try to harm us or flee if I untie you?"

Gwynelle shook her head vigorously. "N-never hurt nice one!" She cocked her head to the side. "Free. Yes."

"Alright." Ebonheim gestured at Thorsten to loosen the ropes binding the harpy. As soon as her bonds were cut, she leapt to her feet, flapping her wings excitedly. Her feathers rustled as she fluttered around Ebonheim, as if nuzzling her. She made a series of cooing and chirping sounds, and Ebonheim chuckled, reaching out to stroke her hair.

"So, where do we find your queen?" Ebonheim asked when she eventually calmed down.

Gwynelle blinked. "Tree nests. Where all live. Up high." She pointed over the horizon where the silhouettes of floating islands drifted over the forest canopy, the orange glow of the setting sun glinting off their edges. "Many nests."

The others' eyes widened as they followed the direction she'd pointed.

"Those floating islands? They're inhabited?" Viviane asked, her voice filled with awe. "Incredible..."

Thorsten scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Wonder how are they held aloft like that? Do they move on their own, or are they tethered to the ground somehow?"

"Some of them appear to be stationary, while others drift through the sky," Serelle noted, peering through the spyglass she always carried. "I've read that the Eldergrove was at the center of an intense Elemental Conflux centuries ago. Those floating islands must have formed from the conflicting elemental forces released during the cataclysmic event."

Urien gave a low whistle. "Interesting. Never knew this valley was at the center of such a magical upheaval. That explains a lot, though."

Ebonheim looked back at Gwynelle who'd perched herself on top of a rock, preening her feathers by rubbing them on the stone. She wore a tattered tunic, woven from what appeared to be plant fibers and strips of leather. It hung loosely around her figure, with small pieces of bone and twine stitched onto the fabric. Her legs were bare, and her talons were painted with patterns of red and black.

Her dark brown hair was a mess of matted and tangled locks, and her skin was covered in dirt and scratches. But despite her disheveled appearance, something was endearing and curious about her.

Gwynelle's teal-green eyes gazed expectantly back at Ebonheim, and she bobbed her head eagerly as if waiting for further instructions.

Ebonheim smiled. "It looks like we have our destination. Tomorrow morning, we'll venture forth and meet with your queen."

"An audience, eh?" Thorsten rumbled, eyeing Gwynelle uncertainly. "Just how friendly are these harpies, anyway? Will they welcome us warmly, or tear us to shreds at first sight?"

Gwynelle made a noise somewhere between a chirp and a squawk, her feathers puffing out. "Tear to shreds? Nae, nae, never! Queen likes strong. No weak. Not kill unless prey."

Ebonheim chuckled. "Well, we won't be provoking anyone. We'll extend a hand in friendship, and hopefully be granted permission to establish the road. That's all we ask for."

"Well said," Ingrid agreed with a nod.

"What's your queen's name, by the way?" Ebonheim asked. "What should we call her?"

Gwynelle puffed her chest out proudly and grinned from ear to ear, showing off her sharp teeth.

"Liselotte! Skytalon! Lord of the North!" she proclaimed in a surprisingly loud voice. "Strongest in the world!"

Ebonheim's eyes slowly widened as the realization dawned on her.

They were already within Liselotte's domain. Her territory.

Liselotte—the queen of these harpies—and from Ebonheim's interaction with her during their yearly gathering with the other lords of the Eldergrove, she had come to know that Liselotte could be unpredictable, aggressive, and often mercurial in her temperament.

"Oh..."