Gareth stood in the kitchen with Agatha, their shoulders nearly touching as they both looked out the door, casting furtive glances while Elena and the group spoke. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the worry lines on their faces. "Do you think she'll join them?" Gareth whispered, his voice barely audible over the muffled conversation outside.

Agatha turned to look at her husband, her eyes searching his face. "Yeah, I think she will. You know, I can't help but look at her and think of—"

"Mira," they both said at the same time, a shared memory passing between them like a spark.

"...Yeah," Gareth said, his voice tinged with a somber note that seemed to deepen the lines around his eyes. He paused, then asked, "Say, what did you and Lele talk about anyway?"

"You," she responded, reaching for a small platter on the counter and popping a piece of cheese into her mouth. The sharp tang of it filled her senses as she continued, "We also spoke about her. I tried to tell Lele how Elena was harmless, if a little lost. But you know how they treat half-demons." Her voice carried a note of frustration, hinting at deeper societal issues.

"Well, it's good to know that Marcus was able to determine she wasn't a threat." Gareth reached past his wife, his arm brushing against hers, and put a piece of cheese in his own mouth. A few moments later, his face contorted in disgust, and he spat it out, half-chewed, into his hand. "Ugh, Veil Blue? Where's the Shadowmare?" he asked, wiping his hand on a nearby cloth.

"Back in the fridge, love," Agatha replied, a hint of amusement in her voice. Gareth left the door and went to the refrigerator, its worn surface showing its age. He opened it, the soft hum of the cooling magic filling the air as a chill washed over his face. After spending a good thirty seconds looking, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I can't see it. Did you take it out?"

"Take a look at the door," said Agatha, her attention divided between her husband's cheese quest and the group's conversation outside. Elena appeared particularly small, despite being a good 1.7 meters tall. Next to all the men, their armor glinting in the fading sunlight, she seemed almost childlike. Agatha noticed the way Elena clung to her legs when overwhelmed, her slender blue fingers gripping the fabric of her pants. Between that and her humming and whistling, It was a habit Agatha was getting familiar with. ‘Perhaps Elena's way of coping with everything? If I had known the girl wasn’t from this world… It’s just a shame she’s been thrown in the deep end’.

Amidst the chatter from outside, punctuated by the occasional laugh or raised voice, she faintly heard her husband's voice and spotted Gareth by the open fridge, his silhouette framed by the interior light. "Second shelf from the bottom, love," she called out, her voice carrying easily across the kitchen.

As she watched Gareth rummage through the fridge, Agatha's mind drifted back, and she vividly remembered the moment she first saw Elena. The memory was as clear as if it had happened yesterday, etched into her mind with the sharpness of a knife.

The door had burst open with a thunderous bang, the sound reverberating through the room and startling everyone present. The peaceful atmosphere shattered in an instant, replaced by a tense silence as all eyes turned to the entrance. No one was prepared for the sight that followed, a scene that would haunt Agatha's dreams likely for months to come.

A small blue girl, her skin a shade of azure that seemed almost unreal, staggered into the room. She was barely standing, her body hunched over and trembling with each labored step. To Agatha's horror, she realized the girl was half disemboweled, dark blood seeping from a grievous wound across her midsection. Despite her injuries, she was supporting the weight of a man a head taller than her, his arm draped heavily across her shoulders. Blood trickled down her side, leaving a gruesome trail behind them, a macabre path marking their desperate journey.

The collective gasp that filled the room was almost deafening, a chorus of shock and disbelief. Agatha's heart skipped a beat, and a cold chill ran down her spine as she recognized the man. His face was deathly pale, a stark contrast to his usually ruddy complexion, and his body slumped heavily against the blue-skinned girl, who looked ready to collapse under his weight at any moment. Hell, she could barely stand on her own. The sight of his glazed eyes, unfocused and distant, and his blood-soaked clothes made Agatha's stomach churn violently.

She remembered her mind raced, thoughts colliding like storm-tossed waves, battling between disbelief and terror. How had this happened? What terrible fate had befallen them? Gareth wasn't exactly known for his strength or fighting prowess, but seeing him so helpless, so close to death, was a nightmare she couldn't wake from. She felt an overwhelming urge to rush to him, to hold him in her arms, to somehow fix everything with a touch, as if her love alone could heal his wounds and bring him back from the brink.

But her feet were rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the shock of the scene unfolding before her. The world seemed to slow down, each second stretching into an eternity as she stood there, unable to move, unable to help, a silent scream building in her throat.

As the blue girl struggled forward, every labored step echoed with the weight of a hundred unspoken questions. Who was this mysterious girl? What catastrophe had befallen them? And most hauntingly, had Elena herself inflicted these grievous wounds upon Gareth? The room buzzed with hushed whispers and frantic debates, each person desperately trying to piece together the horrifying puzzle before them.

Agatha couldn't tear her eyes away from Gareth. The sight of him, so vulnerable and broken, tore at her very soul. Memories of their life together flooded her mind—his hearty laughter, his quiet strength, the comforting warmth of his embrace.

Agatha remembered the girl named Elena…John? ‘She introduced herself as Elena,’ Agatha thought, ‘so she’s Elena. That’s easier to remember anyway.’

Agatha's mind drifted, recalling that fateful day. The image of Elena half-breaking through the doors, Gareth hanging nearly limp in her arms, was seared into her memory. Everyone's jaws had dropped in unison, but Elena's eyes... they were fierce, blazing with a hellish light that seemed to almost hold the very fabric of reality together.

She didn't ask for help, Agatha mused. No, she demanded it. Her voice was strong and unwavering despite her clear exhaustion and pain. Her cerulean skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and blood—a mix of hers and Gareth's. The patrons, initially frozen in shock, had snapped into action, galvanized by her sheer force of will.

Agatha shook her head in wonder. The fact that Elena was also half-dead when she stormed in wasn't a reality she was apparently willing to accept. In her eyes, Gareth was going to be fine, and she'd move the planet to make sure it happened. And if someone decided that wasn't the case? Well, they'd find out the hard way that they were mistaken. It didn't matter what Grand Master stood in her way.

From that moment, Agatha knew that this girl had fire in her belly. Nobody walks into a bar, half-carrying the owner, looking ready to fight the whole world to protect him—especially not for a man she barely knew.

The memory shifted, and Agatha recalled how the others had rushed to assist Gareth, laying him down with careful hands and offering him water. It had become painfully clear just how severe Elena's own injuries were. Her stance had faltered, and her legs shook under the weight of exhaustion and wounds. She'd nearly collapsed, only catching herself against a nearby table. The poor girl had seemed dazed and confused, likely unaware of the chaos unfolding around her.

Agatha remembered one of the bolder patrons stepping forward and asking, "What happened? Who did this?" Elena's simple reply while staring at Gareth still echoed in her mind: "I beat 'em."

A rueful smile crossed Agatha's face as she thought of Sven, bless his heart, asking again and receiving the same response. In retrospect, asking a nearly unconscious girl what happened might not have been the best idea. But he'd asked her to repeat herself, and she'd said, "Don't worry, I said I got'em." The weight of those words had hung heavy in the air, and not a soul there had doubted Elena was responsible for the attack.

Sadness and guilt crept into Agatha's emotions as she recalled her own reaction. At that moment, she'd been ready to finish Elena off herself. She remembered the ache in her hands from gripping a knife so tightly, the murderous thoughts of plucking out Elena's eyes and dragging her to the temple. She'd been willing to give her soul to have the gods themselves guide her hand as she wiped the girl from existence.

The memory of Sven grabbing Elena by the blouse, lifting her off the ground, and choking her, flashed through Agatha's mind. She didn't even feel guilty about her feelings at the time. Part of her would have cursed Sven's name forever if he'd killed Elena and stolen her only chance to avenge her husband.

And yet, despite writhing in pain from her own gut wound, Elena had refused to give up or show any signs of surrender. Her eyes had burned with an intense rage as she watched over Gareth. Like an avenging deity, she'd been ready to exact vengeance on anyone who dared harm him. And if what Gareth had said was true, there likely would have been more dead that evening.

Agatha's thoughts softened as she remembered her dear sweet Gareth, that idiot of a man, mustering the strength to defend Elena. He didn't even know her name at the time.

And instead of growing angry at them for attacking her, Elena had apologized for upsetting them, for not knowing what she did wrong, and even offered to heal Gareth. It was as if she couldn't feel her own pain or simply chose to ignore it until she knew he was safe. In that moment, Agatha reflected, Elena had shown a selflessness that was almost astonishing.

Agatha's eyes welled up with tears as her thoughts continued to swirl. She half-whispered to herself, "Gods, when we saw she used blood magic to heal him?" Glancing upward, as if addressing the deities directly, she continued her internal monologue:

'I know you know I'm a good Luminari. I've worshiped the light in hopes of enlightenment every day of my life. But watching a demon step in and heal my husband out of nothing but the kindness in her heart?' She partially bit her lip in worried contemplation, her ideas of demons challenged by Elena's selfless act.

Her mind then wandered to the events a couple of days later. 'Elena, going around and seeing another woman she also didn't know. She stepped in and saved her life?' Agatha marveled internally. 'And for her good deed came back nearly dead because of it. Hells, we only found out about it when Clara came running here, with two men carrying Elena between them, saying she slayed a monster made of shadow and healed the child.'

Agatha's thoughts raced on. 'Clara spent the next day tending to her, brought her clothes to a tailor, and I heard she made sure the seamstress got it right. This is why I told Lele she was one of the good ones. She received grave injuries both times for someone else, and all she wanted was a meal? Maybe a friend?'

Lost in her reverie, Agatha barely registered her husband's voice. She walked over to the fridge, still deep in thought. Almost mechanically, she went to the door and pulled out the cheese in question without even looking. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed her husband on the cheek, her inner turmoil momentarily giving way to affection.

"You're lucky I love you," she said, a hint of playfulness in her voice masking her earlier emotional struggle. "If it weren't for that and your really nice butt, I might have to see what Marcus is up to later." She slapped Gareth on the ass and winked at him before walking away, her actions a stark contrast to her recent heavy thoughts.

Gareth, oblivious to her internal conflict, quickly walked over to her, spun her around, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her. As she smiled up at him and leaned into his embrace, Agatha's earlier reflections on Elena's heroism and her own conflicted feelings melted away, replaced by a surge of gratitude and love.

"I'm just so glad you're okay," she murmured to Gareth, the simple statement laden with the weight of all they had been through, thanks in no small part to Elena, the mysterious blue-skinned girl who had changed their lives so dramatically..

Lila looked at John blankly, her pen hovering over her book. She stared intently at his face, and he felt his cheeks flush with color. And from the interesting colors he was turning, Marcus was apparently also a blusher. Thomas seemed passively interested in hearing what John said. Lele shook her head, and Grumpy, well, he still seemed unbothered by anything other than folks disturbing his attempted naps.

"Do I have to answer?" John looked at the rest of the group. Lila shook her head in the affirmative and Lehara promptly said no.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He cleared his throat nervously. "Lila, I'd really rather not talk about...that. I kind of miss having it, and frankly, how big it was is not something I normally talked about with strangers?"

"Well, we can get into specifics later," Lila responded, undeterred. "How about physical or mental changes? Notice any changes to personality? Discomforts? Bruising? Do you notice a difference in coloration? Do you have conscious control over your tail, or is it autonomic? How about urges? Do you notice any food that was previously delicious that is no longer so? Do you find your preference for temperature has changed? How about intimacy? Assuming you preferred women previously, do you find men attractive now? Would your attraction be more for men like Marcus or Rowan? Any areas that you find to be erogenous now that weren’t before? Do you..."

Lehara piped up on the last one before Lila could continue. "Gods, Lily, I don't think Elena is comfortable talking about this. I'm not comfortable listening to this."

Thomas smiled slyly, interjecting at Lele’s rebuttal, "Now hold on. Lily is just being a good steward of knowledge and advancing the causes of the consortium, and I think that she has a right to know."

"Oh, shut up," John and Lehara said nearly simultaneously. Lehara smiled at John, while he scowled at Rowan. Lehara looked John in the eyes and said, "Look, I appreciate that you're willing to have a chat with Lily. And she does too. But you don't have to tell her anything you don't feel comfortable with. And if she doesn't leave you alone, just threaten to stop talking with her." Lila appeared to get a little sick at the idea because she turned a pale blue. She quickly closed her book.

John took the moment of silence to turn the conversation in a direction he was comfortable with. "So can I ask some questions?" Marcus sat down next to him. Agatha came out of the kitchen and set a large plate of food on the table with smaller plates for everyone. Cheeses were spread out around the side with bread in the middle and a sweet jam in the center. Marcus handed her a silver coin, which she quickly pocketed. "Marcus, this is too much," she said, but John noticed she didn't offer him change.

Marcus shook his head and said, "Don't worry about it. How many drinks will that get us?"

Agatha looked at the coin and replied, "Drinks food and room for the next few weeks for each of you. And just three drinks for Lele."

Lelhara looked faux taken aback and mockingly placed her hand on her chest. "I thought we were friends!"

"That's why it's worth three drinks and not payment for previous services rendered," Agatha retorted.

Lelhara shrugged. "Fair enough."

Changing his mind on the direction of his initial question, John started with something that had been bothering him for the past few days. "Actually, maybe you can help me out. For the past few days, I've been unable to get a good grasp on how much things cost. Like if I wanted to buy a loaf of bread, how much should I expect to spend on it?"

Marcus put some cheese on bread. "Dunno. Maybe a few Tally? Cheap stuff might only cost you a couple. Why?"

"Well, I'm trying to figure out how far this will get me," John explained, taking out the silver and copper coins. "I know it depends on what I want to buy, but I didn't want to buy something and get ripped off. The bazaar in town was trying to sell me beauty stuff on my first day in town for a shard, I think."

The men looked almost aghast, but Lehara smirked. "Trust me. The only way that it would be worth it is if you suddenly looked like a master. Coins come in six denominations: Tally's, Clips, Shards, Gleams, and Crowns. You've got mostly clips with a few shards. This is a shard." She pointed to the silver coin. "A couple of silver shards are enough to pay rent at a small place near the outskirts of the city for a month. Clips would be enough for you to afford groceries unless you're a growing boy like Marcus here."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a thin coin that looked oddly similar to stamped tin. "These are Tally's. They would be something you used to make change or to give as spending cash to children to get some sweets. A Gleam is made of gold and would get you a nice place in the city for a few years."

She pointed to the silver on the table. "One shard is worth a hundred clips, and a Clip is worth a hundred Tally. Each coin is worth one hundred of the previous coin." She put her tally back in her bag. "And the same goes in the other direction. One gleam is worth a hundred shards, and a crown is a hundred gleams."

Marcus piped up. "For the price of a good shard, you could get some nice weaponry. For a gleam, you could get some enchanted weapons. For a crown? The store that sells it. And you would likely still get ripped off in the process."

John thought for a moment and said, "So if I wanted to pay my tab here and pay for the room..."

Lehara started to speak, but Agatha, who was still within earshot, piped up. "Then not a damn tally would be owed." She shot Lehara a look.

Lehara looked at her, then back at John and shrugged, "Then you'd owe not a damn tally." She popped a piece of cheese in her mouth and refused to say more on the topic.

"Okay, so what sort of gear should I get if I'm going to... I don't know, not die the next time a giant lizard decides to play hockey with me?" John asked. The group looked at him, confused.

John tried to explain the word he said that he thought confused them. "Hockey? It's a game where you hit a puck into a net with a stick?" More blank stares. "Look, I'm sure you understand what I'm saying from context clues."

Lila furiously started writing in her book. Lehara looked confused. "What language was that?"

"Language?” he asked. “I don't know. I'm speaking in English. I thought you would just understand me. Hold on a second, please." He pulled up the description of polyglot and read it out loud to them:

"Polyglot - As a polyglot, you can understand and speak any language. You will naturally change your language based on the last language spoken to you, or you can focus on a specific person and speak in a language they will understand."

Lila thought for a moment, looked at John, and spoke her next question, "Read and write? That sounds quite useful." She spoke in a weird accent and sounded a bit funny.

He nodded. "I mean, it's good because I don't think I'd understand you if I didn't have it." The rest of the group looked at him oddly.

Lehara asked, "What did Elena say?"

"Uhhhhh... I said it's good because I wouldn't be able to understand you if I didn't have it," John repeated.

Rowan spoke up. "That is so odd. I couldn't understand either of those. So it swaps her languages automatically?"

John shrugged. "Man, I don’t know. Honestly, I hadn't thought about it. I just kind of speak."

Lehara put another piece of cheese in her mouth and spoke while chewing. "Seriously though, we'll make sure Elena has the gear she needs, even if she doesn't join us. It would be irresponsible for us not to ensure her safety. And if she does decide to join us, she'll have the unique experience of being a test subject for Lily."

"As thrilling as that sounds, I don't even know what you do," John said. "You've asked me to join you four or five times now but haven't gotten to the upside or downside of it all. Last time I signed up for something I didn't know about, it took me seven weeks to cancel my subscription to a shave of the month club. And don't even get me started on that Gourmet Snack Box."

The group exchanged puzzled glances, clearly taken aback by John's unexpected turn of conversation. Thomas furrowed his brow, trying to grasp the meaning of John's subscription woes, while Lehara scratched her head in confusion. Lila's mouth opened slightly as if to say something, but she hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Marcus glanced at Gareth, who seemed just as perplexed as the rest of them despite being mostly asleep. The air hung heavy with their collective bewilderment, the weight of John's words momentarily stalling their momentum.

"Wait, what?" Thomas finally said, breaking the silence. "Elena, I'm not certain of what a subscription service is. This is about making a real difference, fighting for something greater than ourselves."

Lehara nodded, leaning forward. "We face threats that endanger everyone, and we need people like you. Your skills, your determination—they could tip the balance in our favor."

Lila added softly, "It's about protecting those who can't protect themselves. You'd be part of something meaningful, something bigger than any of us individually."

Marcus cheerily exclaimed his portion of the sales pitch, beaming like a used car salesman who just spotted a sucker. "We put our lives on the line because there are monsters to slay!"

"Yeah, no," John responded quickly, his tone flatter than a pancake run over by a steamroller.

Lila jotted something down in her book again, her quill moving so fast it threatened to catch fire. "Interesting," she muttered, squinting at John like he was a particularly puzzling bug. "The translation sometimes cannot understand, and gives both responses."

"Yeah, no," John repeated to her, enunciating each word as if explaining quantum physics to a toddler.

John looked at Marcus. "Why would I go out and fight monsters just to potentially kill myself?"

Here's an expanded version with John ultimately being convinced:

"Yeah, no," John responded quickly, his tone flatter than a pancake run over by a steamroller.

Lila jotted something down in her book again, her quill moving so fast it threatened to catch fire. "Interesting," she muttered, squinting at John like he was a particularly puzzling bug. "The translation sometimes cannot understand, and gives both responses."

"Yeah, no," John repeated to her, enunciating each word as if explaining quantum physics to a toddler.

John looked at Marcus. "Why would I go out and fight monsters just to potentially kill myself?"

Marcus's cheerful demeanor faltered, replaced by a look of genuine concern. "Elena, it's not about seeking death. It's about preserving life."

Lehara leaned forward, her eyes intense. "We've seen what you can do. Your healing abilities... they're extraordinary. Think of how many lives you could save."

"I'm not some superhero," John protested, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I barely understand these powers myself."

Thomas chimed in, his voice steady and reassuring. "That's why you need us as much as we need you. We can help you harness your abilities, train you to defend yourself."

Lila's quill paused mid-scribble. "And the knowledge we could gain! Your unique physiology, your magical capabilities - they could revolutionize our understanding of healing magic."

John frowned but gave Lily a blank stare. "I'm not interested in being a lab rat, Lila."

"That's not what she means," Rowan interjected, struggling to stay awake. "S'about growth. Learning. Becoming more than we are."

Marcus nodded solemnly. "Remember that woman you saved from the shadow beast? There are countless others out there facing similar horrors. Maybe not in the city. But outside of the walls? Without people like us... like you... they don't stand a chance."

John felt a twinge in his gut. The memory of that terrified woman, the beast's hot breath on her neck, flashed through his mind. "But... why me? Surely there are other healers out there."

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean that more aren't needed," Lehara said softly. "Your power is rare, Elena, but your compassion... it's even rarer. Too many adventurers do this for prestige, for money and power. They see it as a path to glory or wealth. But you? You're different. You've shown time and again that you're willing to put yourself in harm's way to help others, even strangers. That kind of selflessness, combined with your abilities, is exactly what we need. It's not just about having the power to heal; it's about having the heart to use that power for the right reasons. And that's something you have in spades."

Thomas added, "Plus, we can offer protection. You wouldn't have to face dangers alone anymore."

John hesitated, conflicted. He thought, 'This is insane. I'm not cut out for this. But... if I could really make a difference...'

Lila, sensing his indecision, pressed on. "Think of the lives you've already touched. Gareth, that woman in the alley. You have a gift, Elena. A chance to be part of something greater than yourself."

Marcus leaned in, his voice low and sincere. "We're not just fighting monsters, Elena. We're fighting for a world where people don't have to live in fear. Where children can grow up without worrying about what lurks in the shadows."

John felt his resolve weakening. The thought of innocent people suffering, when he had the power to help, was becoming harder to ignore.

Rowan, in a moment of clarity, added, "S'not an easy life. But it's a good one. Purpose. Family."

Lehara reached out, placing a gentle hand on John's arm. "We're not asking you to be fearless. We're asking you to be brave. To use your gifts to make a difference."

John looked around at the group, seeing the hope and determination in their eyes. He thought about the bizarre turn his life had taken, about the powers he now possessed. ‘Maybe this was why I’d been given this second chance?’ he thought.

As he pondered this, Marcus's words from earlier echoed in his mind. The image of the terrified woman he'd saved from the shadow beast flashed before his eyes, followed by visions of other potential victims - families torn apart, children left defenseless. Suddenly, a more personal and painful image struck him: his own children, back in his original world, growing up without their father. He could almost see their confused, tear-stained faces, wondering why daddy never came home. The pain of that imagined scenario was almost physical.

And then visions of the dozens, hundreds, even thousands of other children that might suffer the same fate as his own kids sprang to mind. He saw a montage of heartbreak: his little girl clutching her father's photo, asking her mother when he'd return; his boy now a teenager, angry and lost, acting out because the guiding hand of his father was no longer there. He imagined countless wives, just like his own, wondering why fate had been so cruel, why God had cursed them by taking away the love of their life. He could almost hear their collective cries of anguish, feel their shared pain of loss and abandonment.

John felt sick to his stomach. The thought of monsters destroying families and children losing parents - whether to death or otherworldly transportation like his own - made bile rise in his throat. Despite his initial reluctance, he now understood what was at stake. He could be the one standing between a monster and an innocent, his actions potentially keeping a family together. While he couldn't do this for his own family, he could ensure it happened for others.

His thoughts began racing, each realization hammering home a truth:

'I may be many things. Stubborn? Yes. A girl now? Apparently. The next closest thing to a demon? Possibly. A mage who uses blood for spells? Definitely. But I'm not a monster. And if I need to step up to the plate and face this challenge to prevent others from feeling the loss I'm experiencing, then that's exactly what I'm going to do.'

With a deep breath and a newfound sense of resolve, John made his decision before his brain could talk him out of it. He extended his hand to Lehara, and when she grasped his arm, he shook it vigorously.

"Hi. My name is Jo…Elena. I heard you need a healer."

Lehara's face lit up with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.