The moon hung low in the sky as Yasmin and Yucca made their way back to Windmere, leaving the small cave behind where they had hidden Evan. The cool night air carried the faint scent of saltwater and damp earth, and the distant crash of waves against the cliffs echoed softly in the background. Yasmin walked with her usual bounce in her step, her fiery hair catching the silver moonlight as it swayed behind her. Yucca, as always, moved with a more deliberate grace beside her, her silvery-blonde hair shimmering under the stars.
For a while, the only sound between them was the soft crunch of their boots against the rocky path, but Yasmin could feel the weight of her sister’s gaze on her. Yucca had that look—the one that told Yasmin she was about to get a lecture.
Finally, Yucca broke the silence. "So," she said calmly, her eyes never leaving the path ahead, "are you going to tell me where you learned that spell?"
Yasmin stiffened slightly, trying to keep her expression nonchalant. "What spell?" she asked, a little too casually.
Yucca shot her a sideways glance, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Don’t play dumb, Yas. You know exactly what I’m talking about. That truth spell. The one you had no business knowing."
Yasmin felt her cheeks heat up, though she tried to play it off with a laugh. "Oh, that? Come on, Yuc, it wasn’t that big of a deal."
"It wasn’t that big of a deal?" Yucca’s voice was calm, but Yasmin could hear the thinly veiled disapproval underneath. "Yas, you forced a truth out of him. That spell is illegal for a reason. If you’d messed it up or overexerted yourself, the mana drain could’ve been devastating. You’re lucky you didn’t collapse on the spot."
Yasmin waved a hand dismissively, though her pulse quickened at the memory of how close she’d come to losing control. "Pfft, I had it under control."
Yucca stopped walking, turning to face her sister fully. Her crystal-clear eyes, reflecting the soft glow of the moon, bore into Yasmin’s with quiet intensity. "No, you didn’t. Don’t lie to me, Yasmin. You’ve never done that spell before, have you?"
Yasmin hesitated, her bravado faltering under Yucca’s steady gaze. She rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Okay, fine. Maybe I haven’t exactly done it before… but I’ve read about it!"
"Where?" Yucca asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because it certainly wasn’t in any of the Arcane Forge’s sanctioned texts."
Yasmin felt her cheeks flush deeper, the embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I might’ve done some of my studies... outside of the Forge."
Yucca crossed her arms, her expression a mixture of exasperation and concern. "Yasmin, you know that dabbling in illegal spells can get you in serious trouble. What if the council found out? Or worse, what if you’d gotten yourself hurt?"
"I didn’t get hurt, did I?" Yasmin shot back, though the nervous edge in her voice betrayed her. "Besides, it worked, didn’t it? We got the truth out of him, and now we know what we’re dealing with."
Yucca shook her head, turning to resume their walk. "You’re impossible."
Yasmin hurried to catch up, her boots kicking up small stones as they made their way down the winding path that led back toward the city. The lights of Windmere were visible in the distance, glowing like a sea of fireflies against the dark coastline.
Yasmin tried to change the subject, desperate to steer the conversation away from her little spellcasting escapades. "Speaking of Evan," she began, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes, "we have to keep this whole thing a secret. You know that, right?"
Yucca glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "You think I don’t know that?"
"I’m serious, Yuc," Yasmin pressed, her tone growing more serious. "If anyone finds out he’s a fallen star, they’ll kill him. Or worse."
Yucca’s expression softened, though her voice remained steady. "I know. But what’s your plan, then? Hide him forever? He’s not exactly inconspicuous."
Yasmin thought for a moment, then smiled as if she’d just come up with the perfect solution. "We’ll get him a cloak. You know, one of those enchanted ones that make people ignore you. It’ll be like he’s invisible!"
Yucca blinked, surprised. "Yas, do you have any idea how expensive those cloaks are?"
Yasmin shrugged, her grin unfazed. "So? It’s not like we don’t have the resources. And it’s worth it if it keeps him from getting killed."
To Yasmin’s surprise, Yucca didn’t immediately shoot down the idea. Instead, her sister’s face took on a contemplative expression, and after a moment, she nodded slightly. "It could work. Though I’m not happy about the cost."
Yasmin stopped in her tracks, her mouth falling open in mock surprise. "Wait... are you actually agreeing with me?"
Yucca sighed, the barest hint of a blush creeping into her pale cheeks. "Don’t get used to it. And don’t think this means I’m happy about you knowing illegal spells. But if we’re going to protect Evan, we’ll need to think outside the box."
Yasmin’s grin returned full force as they entered the outskirts of Windmere. The streets were quiet at this hour, with most of the city’s residents having turned in for the night. The narrow alleys and stone-paved streets stretched out before them, the red-tiled rooftops casting long shadows under the moon’s glow. Lanterns hung from doorways, casting a warm, golden light that flickered against the cool blue of the night sky. Ivy crept up the walls of the old stone buildings, and the air smelled faintly of saltwater and earth.
They passed through the Mariner’s Quarter, where the small houses of sailors and fishermen lined the streets. The quiet hum of the city at rest was a stark contrast to the bustling, noisy daytime atmosphere. A few stray cats darted between the buildings, and the occasional sound of creaking wood or distant laughter drifted through the air from the taverns by the docks.
"You know," Yasmin said, still riding the high of their conversation, "I think we can pull this off. Keep Evan hidden, keep him safe, and figure out what the hell he’s doing here."
Yucca didn’t respond immediately, her eyes scanning the quiet streets ahead. "Maybe," she said at last. "But we’ll need to be careful. If the council finds out what we’re doing—"
"They won’t," Yasmin interrupted confidently. "We’ve handled worse."
Yucca gave her sister a sidelong glance, her lips twitching upward in a reluctant smile. "You’re always so sure of yourself."
"That’s because I’m always right," Yasmin replied with a wink.
They continued through the city, passing by the towering statues and grand buildings of the Guilds’ Circle. The Arcane Forge loomed in the distance, its wide stone doors and grand windows illuminated by soft, magical light. The symbol of the crossed hammers surrounded by flames was etched into the stone above the entrance, a reminder of the power and prestige of the magists within.
As they approached the entrance, Yasmin could feel the weight of the day’s events settling on her shoulders. The truth spell, Evan’s revelation, the overwhelming sense that everything was changing—it was a lot to take in, even for her.
"Yas," Yucca’s voice was quieter now, more thoughtful. "You know that whatever happens with Evan, we can’t let it interfere with our duties. The Forge comes first."
Yasmin’s fiery eyes softened, and she nodded. "I know, Yuc. But that doesn’t mean we can just leave him to die. He’s... different."
Yucca paused, her gaze thoughtful as they reached the entrance of the Arcane Forge. "Different doesn’t mean safe."
Yasmin smiled, though it was a little tired now. "That’s why we’re going to keep him hidden. Together."
Yucca hesitated for a moment longer, then sighed, her expression softening. "Alright. We’ll figure it out."
The sisters shared a brief smile before pushing open the heavy doors of the Arcane Forge and stepping inside. The quiet hum of magic filled the air, and the familiar scent of burning incense and old books greeted them.
The Arcane Forge was as grand and imposing as ever when Yasmin and Yucca stepped through its wide stone doors. The scent of burning incense and the faint hum of magical wards greeted them, the walls alive with shifting shadows cast by the floating orbs of light. Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the long corridor leading to the heart of the guild, the familiar symbols of the crossed hammers and flames carved into every surface, a reminder of the Forge’s power and prestige.
They had barely set foot inside the main hall when a stern-looking apprentice approached them, his voice hesitant but firm. "Master Draslyn requests your presence in his chambers. Immediately."
Yasmin groaned audibly. "Great," she muttered under her breath, already knowing what this was about. "Bet he’s going to love hearing about how I saved the day."
Yucca sighed, her expression more resigned. "Or about how you nearly burned down the forest outside of Windmere."
Yasmin shot her sister a playful grin, but there was an edge of anxiety in her eyes. "Details, details."
The apprentice led them through the winding halls of the Forge until they reached a large, reinforced door emblazoned with the insignia of the guild. He knocked once, then stepped aside as the heavy door creaked open, revealing Master Cainen Draslyn standing behind his massive stone desk.
Cainen Draslyn cut an imposing figure, as always. At 6’4”, his broad, muscular frame filled the room with a presence that was impossible to ignore. His dark eyes were sharp and focused, scanning the sisters with an intensity that made Yasmin’s usual bravado waver just a bit. His silver-streaked hair, cropped short, gave him an air of authority and experience, while the dark robes of deep burgundy and charcoal gray added to his aura of command.
“Ah, Yasmin, Yucca,” Cainen said, his voice a low rumble that carried both annoyance and begrudging respect. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Yasmin stepped forward, trying to inject some levity into the situation. “Well, you know, saving the city from a pack of werebeasts takes a little time—”
“Saving the city?” Cainen cut her off, his tone sharp. “More like nearly burning down half the forest outside Windmere, endangering citizens, and creating a mess that we’ll be cleaning up for weeks.”
Yasmin winced. “Okay, so maybe things got a little out of hand...”
Cainen raised a brow, unimpressed. “Out of hand? Yasmin, I’ve had to call in three clean-up crews, and even they’re saying it’s worse than usual. There are rumors circulating about magical detonations and blazing infernos. And to top it off, you’ve managed to create a situation that could’ve drawn the council’s attention.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on his desk, his piercing gaze locked on hers. “I have contingencies for your... destructive tendencies, but this—this was something else.”
Yucca, always the more level-headed of the two, stood beside her sister, her expression calm but concerned. “It was a difficult fight, Master Draslyn. There were more of them than we expected.”
“That’s not the point,” Cainen growled, his gaze shifting to Yucca briefly before returning to Yasmin. “You know as well as I do that you can’t just throw fireballs around without a thought for the consequences. You could have drawn attention to the Arcane Forge, to our operations. And if that happens, we’ll have more than just rogue beasts to deal with.”
Yasmin felt the familiar sensation of guilt gnawing at her, but she pushed it aside with a shrug. “It’s not like anyone got hurt, though, right? The werebeasts are gone, the fire will be put out—no harm, no foul.”
Cainen’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying her casual dismissal. He grumbled under his breath as he walked over to his desk, pulling out a cigar from his silver case. Yasmin’s breath caught in her throat as she exchanged a quick glance with Yucca. The cigar was never a good sign. It meant he was thinking, planning—making decisions that no one else would like.
He struck a match and lit the cigar, taking a slow, deliberate drag. The thick, fragrant smoke curled lazily around him as he leaned back against his desk. “Unfortunately,” he began, his voice heavy with frustration, “I’ve got bad news for the both of you.”
Yasmin’s playful demeanor faltered, and she stood up a little straighter. Yucca, ever composed, remained calm, but Yasmin could see the tension in her shoulders. They had been expecting a lecture, but bad news from Cainen was never something to be taken lightly.
“The council has come to me with two urgent missions,” Cainen continued, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “And you two are going to have to split up for a while.”
Yasmin blinked, surprised, but not particularly upset. “That’s not the worst news in the world. We’ve been on separate missions before.”
Cainen’s eyes darkened. “No, that’s not the bad part.” He paused for a moment, taking another drag of his cigar. “Yasmin, you’re being assigned to support a mercenary team that’s been tasked with recovering some stolen noble gear.”
Yasmin frowned, immediately suspicious. “That sounds more like Yucca’s kind of mission. Recovery is her thing.”
Cainen shook his head. “This isn’t a recovery mission; it's merely labeled that. It’s a cease and destroy mission. The noble’s gear has been stolen by a group of rogue magists. Cursed gear, to be specific. Your job is to find these magists, neutralize them, and destroy the gear before it causes more damage.”
Yasmin’s frown deepened. “Rogue magists with cursed gear? Outside the Sand Pass? That’s a mess waiting to happen.”
Cainen nodded grimly. “Exactly. They’ve been infiltrating groups, causing disruptions, and spreading chaos. You’re to take them out. Permanently.”
Yasmin sighed, running a hand through her fiery hair. “Great. A bunch of crazed magists with cursed gear. Just what I wanted.”
“And Yucca,” Cainen continued, turning his attention to her. “You’ve been summoned by nobility in Valarian. There’s a considerable amount of money on the table for an assassination. Some noble by the name of Mary-Lee or—”
Yucca cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow. “You mean Lady Marcelline Valcrest?”
Cainen blinked, then grumbled as he rifled through a pile of scrolls on his desk. “Right, right. Lady Marcelline Valcrest. Whatever. It’s a high-profile job, and they want it done quietly.”
Yasmin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, you’re sending Yucca on an assassination mission? That’s... kind of intense, even for her.”
Yucca’s expression remained calm, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes. “Assassinations are part of the job. It’s not the first time.”
Cainen, having found the correct scroll, handed it to Yucca. “You’ll be compensated handsomely for your trouble. Lady Valcrest doesn’t want any loose ends, so I expect you to handle this with your usual precision.”
Yasmin glanced between her sister and Cainen, her earlier bravado fading slightly. “So... we’re really going to be split up for a while, huh?”
Cainen nodded, his gaze softening just a fraction. “These are dangerous missions, and you’ll need to focus. No distractions. That means no running off to check on each other mid-mission. Understood?”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Yasmin sighed, crossing her arms. “Yeah, yeah. I get it.”
Yucca, ever the professional, gave a small nod. “Understood.”
The tension in the room lingered as Cainen took another long drag of his cigar, his sharp eyes assessing them both. “Yasmin, I know you don’t like following orders, but this mission is important. Those rogue magists are wreaking havoc, and we can’t afford to let them keep spreading chaos. And Yucca—”
“I’ll get it done,” Yucca said quietly, her tone firm.
Cainen grunted in approval, then gestured toward the door. “Good. Get some rest. You leave at first light.”
Yasmin and Yucca exchanged one last glance before turning to leave the chamber. As they stepped out into the hall, the weight of their assignments settled over them like a heavy cloak.
“So,” Yasmin said, trying to lighten the mood, “I guess this means we’re going to be apart for a while.”
Yucca nodded, her expression unreadable. “It’s nothing new. We’ve had missions like this before.”
Yasmin shot her sister a wry smile. “Yeah, but this time feels different. I don’t know why.”
Yucca’s gaze softened slightly, her voice quiet. “Maybe it’s because things are changing. With Evan... with everything.”
Yasmin’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, wrapping an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Yuc. We’ll get through this. Like we always do.”
Yucca gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Like we always do.”
***
The hours passed by lazily, the gentle sway of the wagon and the warm sunlight filtering through the trees creating a peaceful lull. Paola found herself listening to Poca, who had been animatedly describing her farm—or rather, what Paola had come to imagine as a farm. Poca had a way of talking about her garden with such passion that it felt larger than life, more like an expansive homestead than the small, well-kept garden it truly was.
“I grow ze rarest ingredients,” Poca was saying, her voice filled with pride. “Mostly for healing purposes, but I also cultivate plants for cooking and some for enhancing magic. I live just outside of Valarian—close enough to be part of it, but far enough to ‘ave peace and quiet. I spend most of my time outside, tending to ze garden, working on my puppetry... it’s my sanctuary.”
Paola nodded along, letting the imagery of Poca’s words wash over her. She could almost see it: rows of vibrant plants swaying in the breeze, the smell of earth and herbs in the air. The thought of Poca carefully tending to each plant, her hands dirty from the soil but her heart full, made Paola smile.
“This is the longest I’ve ever been away from home,” Poca continued, a wistful note in her voice. “But zis adventure with you and Ayla, taking Abraham to Windmere... it’s been one of the craziest, best decisions I’ve ever made.”
Paola laughed softly, her heart swelling with affection for the puppet-maker. “I’m glad I met you, Poca. I don’t think I’d have survived this place without you and Ayla.”
Poca smiled warmly, her mismatched eyes twinkling. “Ze feeling is mutual, mon amour.”
Just as Paola was about to reply, Ayla approached from the front of the wagon, her expression slightly concerned. “Paola, I’ve lost track of Oso,” she said, brushing a strand of blonde hair away from her face. “I thought he was following the wagon, but I haven’t seen him for a while now.”
Paola shrugged, her voice light. “It’s fine. I’ll go find him before we get too deep into the forest. He’s probably just wandered off to chase a butterfly or something.”
Ayla nodded, though her brow remained furrowed. “Be careful. I’ll stay back with the cart. If you’re not back soon, we’ll come looking for you.”
Paola gave her a reassuring smile and hopped down from the wagon, feeling the familiar tug of her bond with Oso. Being her familiar, Oso wasn’t difficult to locate—there was a subtle tether between them, a connection that guided her in his direction. She knew he wasn’t on the path ahead. Instead, the pull was leading her into the thick woods to the east, off the beaten road.
With a sigh, Paola adjusted her cloak, the black fabric trimmed in silver billowing slightly in the breeze as she began to follow the pull. The woods were thick with towering trees, their branches arching overhead like a natural cathedral, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. The scent of pine and moss filled the air, and the ground beneath her feet was soft with fallen leaves. It was peaceful, but something felt off—Paola couldn’t quite shake the sense of unease that crept up her spine.
She kept moving, her pace quickening as the pull grew stronger, leading her deeper into the forest. What she thought would be a quick detour stretched on longer than she anticipated. Minutes turned into half an hour, and half an hour soon bled into an hour. Paola’s jog became a run, her tail flicking behind her, helping her balance as she weaved between trees. Her ears, once simply decorative, now picked up on distant sounds—the rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig—and she realized she was hearing things farther out than she ever had before.
Still, Oso wasn’t in danger. His emotions were coming through the tether, and up until now, they had been filled with curiosity, his usual mood when he wandered off to explore. But as Paola continued, that curiosity shifted—suddenly and sharply—to something far more alarming.
Fear. And anger.
Paola’s heart clenched, her pulse quickening. Without a second thought, she broke into a full sprint, her cloak whipping behind her as her feet pounded against the forest floor. Her cat-like reflexes kicked in, her body moving with a new sense of fluidity as her tail kept her balanced, her ears zeroing in on distant sounds. She could hear faint voices now, raised and sharp. Were they arguing?
As she neared the source of the pull, the sounds became clearer—voices, harsh and angry, overlapping with each other. She slowed her pace, the tension in the air thickening as she approached. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached a small clearing, the trees thinning out just enough for her to see the scene unfolding before her.
Oso stood in the middle of the clearing, his hackles raised, growling low and dangerous. The sandy-colored cub was usually playful, curious, and gentle—but now he was crouched, ready to pounce, his sharp teeth bared. Paola followed his gaze and saw what had set him off.
Two small groups of people were in the clearing, standing opposite each other, their weapons drawn. They were clearly in a tense standoff, each group holding hostages from the other side. And now, Oso had stumbled right into the middle of it.
Paola quickly assessed the scene. On one side, a group of rough-looking mercenaries stood with their blades drawn, their armor dented and scuffed from years of use. They were heavily armed and looked like the kind of people who wouldn’t hesitate to cut someone down if they needed to. They had taken two captives from the other group—an older man and a young woman, both bound and gagged.
On the opposite side, a smaller but equally dangerous-looking group stood their ground. This group seemed more refined, their armor cleaner and more expensive. They held two hostages of their own—a man and a young boy, both looking terrified. From the looks of it, this wasn’t a simple ambush or robbery. This was something more complicated.
And in the middle of it all was Oso, growling and bristling, caught between these two factions.
Paola took a deep breath, her hands instinctively going up in a gesture of peace as she stepped into the clearing. “Whoa, whoa, easy now,” she called out, trying to keep her voice calm despite the rapid pounding of her heart. “He’s just a cub—he doesn’t mean any harm.”
Both groups immediately snapped their attention to her, and she could feel the weight of their eyes on her, assessing her, deciding if she was a threat.
One of the mercenaries, a tall man with a scar running down the side of his face, sneered as he pointed his sword at her. “Who the hell are you?”
Paola forced a casual smile, keeping her hands up. “Just a traveler looking for her bear cub,” she said, her tone light but firm. “I think he might’ve wandered into your little... situation here by accident.”
One of the more refined-looking warriors from the other side, a woman with sharp features and polished armor, narrowed her eyes at Paola. “This is no place for a traveler. Leave now, unless you want to get caught in something that’s none of your concern.”
Paola glanced at the hostages, then at Oso, who hadn’t backed down yet. The tension in the air was thick, and she knew that one wrong move could set this whole thing off. “Look, I don’t want to get involved,” she said carefully, “but my cub clearly stumbled into this mess, and I’d like to get him out of here before things escalate.”
Oso let out a low growl, his sharp gaze flicking between the two groups. He wasn’t backing down, and Paola could feel his protective instincts through their bond. She had to diffuse this, and fast.
The scarred mercenary took a step forward, his sword still pointed at her. “How do we know you’re not part of this? Maybe you’re a spy for them,” he growled, jerking his head toward the other group.
Paola let out a frustrated sigh. “Does it look like I’m dressed for combat?” She gestured to her cloak, which was barely holding together over her bare skin. “If I was part of this, do you think I’d stroll in like this?”
The warrior woman from the other group stepped forward now, her eyes narrowing as she looked Paola up and down. “She’s not with us,” she said coldly. “But that doesn’t mean she’s innocent.”
Paola felt the pressure building. The longer this standoff went on, the more likely it was that someone would snap. And with Oso in the middle of it, she couldn’t afford to let that happen. She glanced down at Oso, who was still in a defensive stance. His fear and anger were palpable through their bond now, and she knew she had to act quickly.
Taking a deep breath, Paola slowly lowered her hands, keeping her movements calm and deliberate. “Listen,” she said, her voice steady. “I don’t know what kind of beef you’ve got with each other, but I don’t care. All I want is to take my cub and leave. Let me do that, and I’m out of your hair.”
The scarred mercenary sneered. “Not happening. You’re not going anywhere until we settle this.”
Paola felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the tension escalated. She could sense Oso’s growing anxiety, and her heart pounded in her chest. She needed to find a way to get him out of there before someone made a move that couldn’t be undone.
But then, as the standoff seemed on the verge of tipping over into violence, Paola’s ears twitched, picking up the faint sound of footsteps approaching from the woods behind her. Backup was coming, whether she had asked for it or not.
She just had to keep things calm until then.
Paola stood still in the tense clearing, her eyes darting between the two groups. Oso, still growling at the center of the standoff, looked ready to pounce at any moment. Paola’s heart raced, and sweat began to form on her brow despite the coolness of the shaded forest. Neither group seemed willing to back down, and Paola was caught in the middle, her every word met with suspicion.
The man with the scar, whom Paola had initially pegged as a mercenary, was watching her closely, his sword still aimed in her direction. He had the look of a hardened fighter, but there was something in his eyes that made Paola hesitate in her initial judgment. She had assumed these people were cutthroats, bandits, but now she wasn’t so sure. The way he stood, the protective way his comrades positioned themselves around their hostages—it wasn’t the posture of reckless criminals. They seemed... organized.
On the other side, the woman with the polished armor and sharp gaze continued to watch Paola carefully. Her presence exuded authority, and her movements were precise, calculated. There was an air of nobility around her, yet the way she held her sword toward Paola made it clear that she wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
Paola found herself standing in no-man’s-land, with two equally dangerous groups, both armed, and neither trusting her. She had hoped to reason with them, but it was clear they weren’t going to let her simply walk away with Oso. They believed she was involved—somehow, with one side or the other—and that made everything far more complicated.
“I’m telling you, I’m not with either of you,” Paola said, her voice steady but laced with frustration. “I was just following my cub, and now I’m stuck in the middle of whatever this is.” She gestured toward Oso, who, though small, looked like he was prepared to defend Paola with everything he had. “He’s my familiar—he wandered off, and I followed him here. That’s all.”
The scarred man sneered, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. “You expect us to believe that? A random traveler with a bear cub just happens to stumble upon this situation? You’re either the worst spy I’ve ever seen, or you’re playing dumb.”
Paola’s tail flicked behind her in frustration, her cat ears twitching as she shot him a sharp glare. “I’m not a spy. Look at me—do I look like I’m equipped for espionage?”
“You don’t look like a lot of things,” the woman from the other side cut in, her voice icy and sharp. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not dangerous. Or that you’re not working with them.” She nodded toward the scarred man’s group.
“Them?” Paola repeated incredulously, throwing her hands up. “I just said I’m not with any of you. What is going on here?”
The scarred man’s lips curled into a snarl. “Don’t play dumb. You stumbled on something you shouldn’t have, and now you’re trying to weasel your way out of it. Typical tactic for a double agent.”
Paola’s mind raced as she tried to figure out what she had walked into. She could feel the tension between the two groups like a live wire ready to snap, and she was standing right in the middle of it. Both sides were convinced she was working with the other, and neither seemed interested in hearing the truth.
She glanced at the hostages again, her stomach churning. The older man and the young woman looked terrified, their eyes wide with fear as they knelt beside the scarred man’s group. Meanwhile, the hostages from the other side—a man and a young boy—were equally shaken. It was clear that whatever had caused this standoff, it wasn’t a simple matter of bandits and travelers. There was something deeper here.
Paola was starting to piece together that both groups seemed equally desperate and equally wronged, but she couldn’t figure out what had led to this tense showdown. And with every passing second, the threat of violence hung heavier in the air.
“Look,” Paola said, taking a step forward, her voice more urgent now. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but whatever it is, fighting isn’t going to solve it. Let’s just—”
“Shut up!” the scarred man barked, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. “We’re done talking.”
The woman on the other side took a step forward, her blade glinting in the dappled sunlight. “I agree. This ends now.”
Paola’s heart leapt into her throat. She could feel the situation slipping out of control. Oso let out another growl, the fur on his back standing up as he crouched lower, ready to charge if anyone made a move. The tension had reached its peak, and Paola knew that if one person acted rashly, it would all unravel in an instant.
And then, just as she thought bloodshed was inevitable, a new presence entered the clearing.
Ayla.
She appeared at the edge of the forest, moving with the quiet grace of a seasoned warrior. Her long blonde braids hung over her muscular shoulders, her mismatched eyes—one crimson, one sapphire—fixing on the scene before her with an intensity that made everyone freeze. Her dragon-scale armor, glinting faintly in the light, was both revealing and deadly, and the massive broadsword strapped to her back radiated with the dual energies of fire and ice. She was an imposing figure, and the moment she stepped into the clearing, the entire atmosphere changed.
Ayla’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Enough.”
The scarred man stiffened, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the sight of her. The woman from the other group also hesitated, her grip on her sword loosening just a fraction. Both groups seemed to recognize immediately that they were no longer in control of the situation.
Ayla’s gaze swept over them, assessing the standoff with a cold, calculating look. She then turned her attention to Paola, her voice softening, though it still held an edge. “Paola, are you alright?”
Paola nodded, relief flooding through her. “Yeah, I’m fine. But... things were about to get messy.”
Ayla’s eyes flicked to Oso, who had relaxed slightly at the sight of her but still kept a wary eye on the others. With a single glance, Ayla took in the entire scene—the hostages, the tension between the two groups, and the standoff that had nearly turned violent. Her expression remained calm, but there was a quiet fury behind her mismatched eyes.
“I don’t know what’s happening here,” Ayla said, her voice low and steady, “but if you even think about drawing blood while I’m standing here, you’ll regret it.”
There was no threat in her tone—just a simple, undeniable fact.
The scarred man looked at Ayla warily, clearly sizing her up. “Who the hell are you?”
Ayla’s lips curved into a cold smile. “Someone who isn’t going to let you make a mistake you can’t undo.”
The woman from the other side seemed to recover first, her sharp eyes narrowing as she addressed Ayla. “This isn’t your fight. We don’t need some warrior waltzing in here thinking she can control things.”
Ayla’s smile faded, her gaze turning icy. “It became my fight the moment you threatened my friend.”
Paola felt a surge of gratitude and affection for Ayla, but she could also feel the tension building again. The standoff wasn’t over yet, and if they weren’t careful, things could spiral out of control all over again.
The scarred man exchanged a glance with his comrades, then looked back at Ayla. “We don’t want any trouble with you,” he said carefully, though his grip on his sword remained tight. “But we’ve got a situation here, and it’s not going to end without a fight.”
Ayla’s eyes flicked to the hostages, then back to the man. “Tell me what this is really about,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. “I want to know why you’re all so eager to kill each other.”
The tension in the clearing refused to break. Paola’s heart pounded in her chest as she stood between the two groups, trying to make sense of their accusations, her ears flicking nervously at every raised voice. Ayla’s presence had stalled the inevitable for a moment, but it was clear that neither side was ready to back down.
The woman with the polished armor and sharp features narrowed her eyes at Ayla, her grip on her sword tightening again. “We just want our people and our supplies back,” she said coldly, refusing to lower her blade completely. “They took everything from us. They should pay.”
The scarred man’s lips curled into a sneer, his blade still at the ready, though it hovered just below an outright threat. “We were defending ourselves! You attacked us first, and now you think you can play the victim?”
The air crackled with the threat of violence, and Paola could feel Oso’s agitation grow beside her. She shared his unease. Even though Ayla had managed to command the situation for a moment, it was clear that both sides were far too entrenched in their anger to stand down so easily.
Ayla’s voice cut through the rising tension, sharp and calm. “I don’t care who started this, but I’m not letting you spill each other’s blood here. You can resolve this without more violence.”
The scarred man barked a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got no skin in this fight. You think just because you’ve got that big sword on your back, you can intimidate us into submission?”
Ayla’s eyes flashed, her jaw tightening. “I’m not interested in intimidation,” she said, her voice like ice. “I’m offering you a way out that doesn’t end in bodies on the ground.”
The woman from the opposing group scoffed, her gaze unwavering as she stared down Ayla. “And what do you suggest? That we just walk away? Leave what they stole from us? Let our dead rot in the forest?”
Paola felt the tension rise again, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She could sense the battle lines being drawn once more. No matter how much Ayla tried to offer them a way out, neither side seemed willing to listen. They were both too deep in their own grievances, too blinded by their need for revenge.
“I’m not asking you to forget what happened,” Ayla said, her voice lower now, though no less intense. “But fighting here, right now, is only going to make things worse. You’ve both lost people. Don’t add more names to the list.”
The scarred man shook his head again, his eyes flicking between Ayla and the woman across the clearing. “There’s no walking away from this. Not without justice.”
The woman nodded in agreement, her voice hard. “You can stand there with your fancy sword and your bravado, but we’re not leaving without what’s ours. And if they refuse, then there’s only one way this ends.”
Paola felt her stomach drop as she realized that Ayla’s words, as powerful as they were, weren’t going to be enough to stop what was coming. Both sides were dug in, unwilling to compromise, unwilling to back down. She had hoped that Ayla’s presence would have been enough to scare them into a truce, but these people were too driven by their need for vengeance.
The clearing seemed to shrink as the tension reached its breaking point. Oso let out a low growl, his eyes locked on the scarred man’s group, his fur bristling with unease. Paola could feel his fear and anger surging through their bond, and her heart ached for him. He hadn’t asked for this. None of them had.
Ayla’s eyes flicked between the two groups, her grip on the hilt of her broadsword tightening. Paola could see the frustration building in her. She was trying to protect them, trying to give them a chance to walk away from this, but they weren’t listening.
The scarred man took a step forward, his blade raising ever so slightly, his eyes locked on the woman across the clearing. “This ends now,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
The woman didn’t flinch. She raised her sword in response, her expression cold and unyielding. “Agreed.”
And just like that, the fragile peace shattered.