Mira’s footsteps echoed down the stone corridor as she made her way toward the guild master’s office. Her heart was racing, anticipation buzzing through her veins like a spell barely contained. She could hardly keep still, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her satchel as she approached the door.

This was the moment.

The final piece of the puzzle that would allow her to venture into Greythorn Forest. Her mind whirled with excitement, imagining what kind of person this rogue could be—someone seasoned, stoic, perhaps a little mysterious, and surely he had that air of handsome danger that came with the kind of reputation she had heard about. Maybe he would be one of those tall, imposing types that always seemed to have a cloak billowing behind them, casting an ominous shadow wherever they went.

She reached the door and paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. For a brief moment, doubt crept into her mind. What if this guy was more than she could handle? What if he found her to be inexperienced or…too much? She pushed the thoughts aside, straightened her back, and opened the door.

Her heart practically stopped at the sight before her.

The man standing inside the room was nothing like she had imagined. In fact, he was quite the opposite.

First of all, he wasn’t tall. He was actually about her height, which surprised her more than she cared to admit. He had a rugged, unkempt look, his wild auburn hair hanging in waves that reached his shoulders, streaked with bits of dirt and leaves as though he’d recently crawled out of a bush.

His sharp green eyes glared at her from beneath dark, tired-looking lids, framed by smudged eyeliner that somehow made him look even more exhausted. His clothing was well-worn, patched up in places, and his leather armor had seen better days. His face was marked with scars, one running down from the corner of his eye, barely healed, while intricate tattoos curled across his forehead.

Ancient text? How odd. He had a scruffy beard, and the permanent scowl on his face made him look like he was seconds away from biting someone’s head off.

He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he didn’t want to be there at all, lips curled in annoyance. Chile Alkinlock, the rogue she had heard so much about, looked more like a disgruntled bandit than an elite professional.

Mira blinked, her eyes darting over him as she tried to reconcile the image of the legendary rogue she had built up in her mind with the man standing in front of her.

This was...not what she had expected.

“Can I help you with something?” Chile’s voice cut through the silence, sharp and biting. His eyes narrowed as he glanced her up and down, clearly sizing her up in return.

Mira felt her cheeks flush, caught off guard by his bluntness. She quickly regained her composure and cleared her throat as she entered the room. “You must be Chile Alkinlock,” she said, her voice bright despite her surprise. “I’m Mira. I’ll be joining you on the Greythorn mission.”

Chile raised an eyebrow, gaze lingering on her pointed ears and silver-ish hair. His eyes darkened for a moment as recognition flickered across his face. “A dark half-elf, huh? Well, this is a surprise.”

Mira blinked at him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. "Uh, yes. Is that…a problem?"

Chile shrugged, though his scowl deepened. “Not my business. Just didn’t expect someone like you, is all.”

His eyes darted over her again, clearly studying her features now that she was up close. Her silver-black hair, pulled into her usual messy pigtails, contrasted dashingly with her pale skin. Her ears were long and pointed, betraying her elven heritage, while her wide eyes—a white inner circle, fading into a dark, inky black that rimmed the outer edges of her irises—gave her an otherworldly look. The soft freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose, coupled with her sharp features, distinguished her as a half-elf—an outcast in many places, and someone who didn’t quite belong anywhere.

Mira shifted under his gaze, confidence wavering slightly. She knew what people thought when they saw her, and she had spent most of her life trying to prove herself despite it. But the way Chile looked at her made her feel like he was dissecting every detail about her, his sharp eyes picking apart her appearance.

“You’re staring,” she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t the first time someone had gawked at her genealogy, but it still irritated her when people did it so openly.

Chile snorted, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall. “You’ll have to get used to that if we’re going into Greythorn together. Trust me, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb in those woods.”

Mira frowned, unsure if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult. “I think I’ll manage just fine,” she replied, her tone a bit sharper than before.

Chile’s smirk widened slightly, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Oh, I’m sure you will. Just try to keep up.”

Mira’s brow furrowed in annoyance, but before she could respond, the guild master cleared his throat, reminding them both that he was still in the room. Mira glanced over at him, suddenly aware of how taut the air had become. The guild master, a stern-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair, watched the exchange with a bemused expression.

“Now that introductions are out of the way,” he said, tone a bit dry, “let’s get down to business. You’ll both need to work together if you’re going to make it through Greythorn Forest. There’s no room for conflict on this mission.”

Mira nodded quickly, eager to get past the awkward start. She turned to Chile with a bright smile, trying to soften the mood. “I’m really looking forward to this,” she said, her voice full of excitement again. “There’s so much to discover in Greythorn, and I’m sure we’ll make a great team.”

Chile raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he muttered, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Mira’s smile faltered for a second, but she quickly recovered. She wasn’t going to let his attitude get to her. After all, she had dealt with difficult personalities before. If anything, this was just another challenge she could rise to.

As the guild master began to explain the details of the mission, Mira stole a glance at Chile again. He might’ve been rough around the edges—okay, more than rough—but he was clearly experienced. His reputation didn’t come from nowhere.

She could work with him. She would work with him.

Thivian walked in; his large, hulking form dominated the space even before he entered. Thivian was a dragoniod, half-man, half-dragon—a race that, much like Mira’s own kind, was often cast aside and judged for its mixed heritage. But Thivian had never let that stop him.

His deep red scales shimmered under the torchlight as he approached, leathery wings folded tight against his back. His eyes, sharp and glowing like molten gold, swept over the room before settling on Mira and Chile.

"Morning," Thivian grumbled, his voice like gravel rolling down a hill, though Mira knew the warmth behind it.

Mira smiled at him. She’d grown up with Thivian, and despite his blunt, country-boy demeanor, he was someone she could always rely on. Thivian wasn’t one for niceties, but he was loyal—like a boulder you could lean on.

His gaze flicked over to Chile, and a low, amused growl escaped him. "So, you’re the rogue they’ve been talking about."

Chile, to his credit, didn’t flinch under Thivian’s scrutiny. His green eyes narrowed slightly, sizing up the towering dragoniod with a scowl that seemed to be his default expression. "And you must be Thivian," he replied, his voice flat but with a hint of sarcasm. "You look like you could handle a fight, at least."

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Thivian extended a massive, scaled hand, and to Mira’s surprise, Chile clasped it without hesitation. The two men locked eyes as they shook hands, the strain between them noticeable but oddly... respectful. Thivian raised an eyebrow, impressed by Chile’s firm grip.

“Strong handshake for someone so small,” Thivian noted, a smirk tugging at the corner of his scaled lips.

Chile snorted. “It’s all in the technique. Besides, I don’t need to be big to get the job done.”

Mira watched the exchange, feeling an odd twinge of jealousy as the two seemed to hit it off, their blunt personalities surprisingly compatible. She had been expecting a clash, but instead, it felt like the two were forming an unspoken understanding.

Before Mira could dwell on the thought too long, the door opened again, and two more figures entered the room. First came a tall, white-haired elf, his long blue robes brushing the floor as he walked with a certain grace that only an elf could manage. His pale skin practically glowed, but Mira couldn’t help but notice the faint scales scattered along his cheekbones and neck, almost too subtle to spot unless you were looking. Another dragon-descendant, perhaps?

Beside him walked a striking demon woman with bright red skin, her hair a cascade of silver locks pulled into a loose bun. Her eyes glowed a deep purple, and gold chains hung delicately from the tips of her black, curved horns. She wore a flowing top, simple but elegant, paired with leather pants and boots that were clearly built for travel. There was a casual, comfortable ease to her movements, and the way she glanced at the elf beside her made it clear—they were a couple, one of those seasoned duos who had been through countless adventures together.

Mira recognized them immediately—Basile and Rivan, a traveling monk and sorcerer duo who were known for lending their aid to smaller groups and guilds. With his refined posture and calm demeanor, Riven gave off the vibe of someone who had been raised among nobility—though his travels and choices suggested otherwise. Basile, in contrast, had a laid-back but dangerous aura, her piercing eyes missing nothing as she surveyed the room.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a team,” Riven said smoothly, his eyes flicking from Mira to Chile to Thivian. “A rogue, a wizard, a blood mage, a monk, and a sorcerer. Quite the combination.”

Basile smirked as she leaned casually against the wall, crossing her arms. “Lot of magic users in one place,” she commented, her eyes lingering on Chile with a curious gleam. “Not a whole lot of muscle, though. What’s up with that?”

Chile groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. “Exactly what I was thinking. What kind of operation is this? Where’s the brawn? You’ve got a bunch of spellcasters and one rogue. Who’s supposed to do the heavy lifting?”

Mira winced slightly at the question. “We’re mostly scholars, actually,” she admitted, offering an apologetic smile. “And, well… we’re on a budget.”

Chile blinked at her, his expression incredulous. “A budget? You’re telling me a bunch of underfunded academics is running this expedition?”

Thivian, who had remained silent up until now, chuckled darkly. “Yep. Welcome to the team, Alkinlock.”

Basile laughed softly, shaking her head. “We’ve got enough to handle ourselves, don’t worry. Besides, you look like you’ve got enough tricks up your sleeve to compensate for the lack of brawn.”

Chile rolled his eyes but nodded along, clearly resigned to his fate. “Alright, alright. Let’s just get the details so we can be done with this.”

The guild master, having waited patiently, cleared his throat and stepped forward, unrolling a map on the table. “As you all know, this mission will take you deep into Greythorn Forest,” he began. “Your primary objective is to locate and investigate the ruins recently discovered in the forest's northern reaches. This area is uncharted, and there are rumors of magical anomalies that we need to verify.”

He glanced at Mira and the others before continuing. “We don’t know what you’ll find out there, but we suspect the magic in the area may be tied to something ancient. Be prepared for anything.”

The group leaned in, studying the map intently. Chile remained quiet, his keen eyes focused on the details, though Mira could tell his mind was already working, calculating potential risks and escape routes.

Basile hummed softly, tapping her chin as she examined the map. “This is deep in the forest. We’ll need to be careful.”

Riven nodded, his gaze serious. “I don’t expect this to be easy.”

Mira’s heart raced with a mixture of excitement and nerves. This was it. The mission she had been preparing for.

The chance to explore the unknown depths of Greythorn.

The guild master continued unrolling the large map across the table. As he spoke, he traced his finger along the jagged line representing the route they would take.

“We’ll begin here, on the southern outskirts of Greythorn,” he said, pointing to a small marker on the map. “The journey will take about five days, assuming no major interruptions. There are a few known paths through the forest, but once you reach this section—” his finger moved toward a darker area marked with strange symbols, “—things become more unpredictable. We have little information beyond this point. This is where the ruins are located.”

The group leaned in, their eyes scanning the map carefully. Chile’s thoughtful green eyes narrowed, taking in every detail. He had that calculating look on his face again, as if he was already planning for the worst.

“The ruins are rumored to have strong magical anomalies,” the guild master continued. “Our goal is to investigate and document what we find. As for the dangers—well, you all know what Greythorn’s reputation is. Be ready for anything.”

He paused, glancing at each member of the group before adding, “And, of course, there’s the matter of pay. This mission comes with a hefty reward—enough to keep most of you well-funded for your next few adventures.”

At the mention of pay, Basile smirked and crossed her arms, gaze flicking to Rivan with amusement. “Well, you all can keep your coins. We’ll be passing on the pay as always,” she said casually, though her eyes gleamed with a bit of mischievousness.

Rivan groaned, rubbing his temples as if he’d heard this before. “Honestly, Basile, you know we don’t always have to refuse the coin.”

Before he could finish his sentence, Basile kicked him under the table, causing him to wince. She leaned in slightly, muttering, “Snob,” under her breath.

Rivan rolled his eyes, shifting uncomfortably, but didn’t protest further. “I swear, sometimes your holier-than-thou attitude is exhausting,” he mumbled, though his tone was more amused than irritated.

Basile chuckled, brushing off his words as she turned her attention back to the guild master. The guild master continued, now discussing the supplies they would need for the trip—rations, healing potions, and magical tools to help them navigate the more treacherous parts of the forest. Mira's attention drifted toward Chile, and the details blurred together.

He was still focused on the map, his eyes scanning the various markers and symbols the guild master had pointed out. His brow furrowed in concentration, and for a moment, Mira couldn’t help but admire his intensity.

He wasn’t what she expected, but there was something about the way he studied the map, already thinking two steps ahead, that made her want to know more about him.

Steeling herself, Mira decided to make her move. Sliding a bit closer to Chile, she gave him her most charming smile. “You seem to know your way around these kinds of things,” she said, tone light and casual. “Ever been to Greythorn before?”

Chile didn’t even look up from the map. “A few times,” he replied curtly, his focus never wavering.

Undeterred, Mira pressed on. “That’s impressive. I’ve been studying Greythorn for years, but I’ve never had the chance to actually explore it. You must have some incredible stories.”

Chile glanced at her, expression unreadable. “I’m not much of a storyteller,” he said flatly, before turning his attention back to the map.

Mira felt a pang of frustration. Okay, maybe not the easiest person to charm, she thought, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“I’m sure someone like you has a few tricks up his sleeve,” she tried again, her voice a little more playful. “Maybe you could teach me a thing or two.”

Chile raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “I’m not here to give lessons,” he muttered. “I’m here to get the job done.”

Mira felt her face flush with embarrassment. It was clear that Chile wasn’t going to be charmed easily, and the more she tried, the more awkward it became. She opened her mouth to say anything to salvage the conversation, but nothing came out.

Thivian, who had been quietly observing the interaction, stepped in, sensing her discomfort. “Mira, don’t take it personally,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Chile’s just focused. Give him a bit of time.”

Mira shot Thivian a grateful look, though she couldn’t help but feel dejected. She had hoped to make a better impression, but instead, she felt like she had fallen flat on her face.

Chile, for his part, didn’t seem to notice or care about the awkwardness. He was already back to studying the map, muttering something about the quickest escape routes if things went south.

As the conversation droned on around her, Mira couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration. She had always been good with people—charming, charismatic, able to win over almost anyone. But Chile was proving to be a tougher nut to crack, and it bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

She glanced around the room, watching as Basile and Rivan exchanged more teasing remarks while Thivian quietly observed the proceedings. It was clear that everyone had their own dynamic, their own rhythm.

And for the first time, Mira felt slightly out of sync with the group.