Why are you so stupid, Fred?
Kaela's boots splashed through puddles as she ran through the cobbled streets of Lorne. Rain battered her face. Her cloak was soaked through, but she didn't stop. The words kept looping in her head like a curse.
You're playing with your life just to get a few coins? What were you thinking?
Her breath hitched. She didn't even know if Fred had been taken to the city dungeons or if the noble's guards had dragged him off to somewhere worse. All she knew was that he told her to run—and that she did.
Now she needed Arthur. Her big brother would know what to do. He always did.
She nearly slipped as she rounded the corner and saw the familiar building—two stories tall, old stone walls covered in moss, warm candlelight glowing through the windows. The emblem of a sword over an open book hung above the wooden doors:
The Adventurer's Guild of Lorne.
She burst inside.
Warmth hit her like a wave. Laughter. The clatter of tankards. The smell of roasted meat and wet boots. Dozens of adventurers lounged around wooden tables—some in armor, others with cloaks and daggers, all with tales to tell.
A bard strummed a lute in the corner, half-drunk, barely hitting the notes.
The guild was alive.
And none of them knew what had just happened.
"Oi, isn't that Arthur's little sister?" a man called from a table, lifting his mug.
Another leaned back in his chair, squinting. "Kaela? What're you doing here? This ain't a place for—wait, where's that annoying little brother of yours? The one always poking around the stables?" He chuckled, not unkindly. "Got himself in trouble again?"
Kaela ignored them.
Her heart beat like a drum in her chest as she made her way to the counter, boots squelching. Behind it stood Reva, the receptionist—her silver hair tied in a tight bun, reading a ledger by candlelight.
Kaela slammed her hands on the counter. "Where's Arthur?"
Reva looked up, startled. "Kaela? What—?"
"Where is he?" Kaela's voice cracked. "Please. I need to see him."
Reva's eyes narrowed. "He left this morning on a hunt. Said he'd be back by sundown. He… hasn't returned."
Kaela's hands balled into fists. "Where did he go?"
Reva hesitated. The light from the candle flickered. "Kaela… you shouldn't be here alone. He went to the Grimroot Forest."
The words hit like a slap.
Kaela turned without another word.
"Wait—Kaela!" Reva's voice rang out. "You can't go there by yourself! It's too dangerous!"
Several adventurers rose from their seats. "Hold on! The Grimroot? You'll get killed!"
But Kaela was already at the door, rain washing over her again like the sky itself was weeping.
She didn't care.
She moved past the adventurers like a gust of wind—light on her feet, a flash of runic glow sparking briefly around her boots as she surged through the open doorway.
One of the younger adventurers blinked. "Did you see that? She cast Windstep without even chanting."
An older swordsman stroked his beard. "Tch. Guess it's in their blood. Just look at Arthur—kid could be a knight in the royal guard if he wanted."
The streets blurred past her.
Rain fell harder now, drumming against rooftops and cobblestones. Kaela pushed forward, the city's edge drawing near—where buildings gave way to crooked trees and thick fog. Her magic boots pulsed faintly with each step, softening her landings, giving her speed. She only had enough mana for one or two more bursts, but that didn't matter.
She passed the watchtower, then the old crumbled wall, and finally crossed the mossy stone bridge that marked the entrance to Grimroot Forest.
It stood before her—ancient and dark.
The trees were tall and twisted, their blackened trunks slick with rain. Mist coiled between the roots like living things. The forest had no path. Only shadows. Only the hum of magic in the air, old and unfriendly.
Kaela slowed.
Each breath left her in pale clouds. She gripped the pendant at her neck—an old wooden charm Arthur had given her when she was small.
"Arthur…" she called into the mist.
No answer.
She pressed forward, hands brushing aside wet branches. Every sound felt too loud—the squish of her boots, the flutter of wings overhead, the snap of a twig behind her—
She froze.
"Arthur?" she tried again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
Then, a low growl. Behind her. No—not behind. Around.
Something moved in the fog.
Her heart jumped. She reached for the focus at her belt—a slender wand carved from bonewood. Light sparked to her fingers as she whispered a warding spell.
A blur lunged from the left. Red eyes. Fangs. Slavering jaws.
Kaela screamed, raising her wand too late.
But steel found its mark first.
A greatsword cleaved through the beast with a crack of bone and a shriek of pain. The creature collapsed mid-air, blood sizzling against the earth.
Kaela stumbled back, panting.
Arthur stood between her and the corpse, blade dripping, breath ragged. His hair clung to his face, soaked by the rain. His eyes—fierce and furious—locked onto hers.
"Kaela!?" he barked. "Are you insane?! What are you doing here?!"
She opened her mouth, gasped, then finally blurted out, "Fred—Fred's in trouble!"
Arthur didn't move.
"He got caught," she said, voice shaking. "He tried to steal from some noble kid. Their guards took him. I don't know where. He told me to run. I didn't know what else to do but find you."
Arthur's jaw clenched. His knuckles whitened around the sword's hilt.
"They took Fred…?" he said, low and cold.
Kaela nodded, rain and tears mingling down her cheeks. "We have to save him."