Morning light filtered through the tent flaps, carrying the sounds of camp waking up—pots clinking, horses snorting softly, low voices murmuring as the caravan folk went about their chores. Rebecca stepped outside first, blinking against the warm sunrise that painted the treeline gold. She felt the stares immediately, a few quick glances and hushed whispers rippling through the group. No one said it outright, but the sounds from their tent the night before had spoken volumes. She simply smiled, calm and unconcerned, and helped pack up without a word.
By the time breakfast was finished and the camp cleared, Lirael still hadn't stirred. Rebecca scooped the sleeping elf into her arms as easily as a child, cradling her against her chest. "Poor thing couldn't handle the intensity," she murmured fondly, then carried her to the main carriage.
Inside, Rebecca settled Lirael's head gently on her lap, fingers combing slowly through the blonde braids. The motion was soothing, almost absent-minded, as the carriage lurched forward and the journey resumed.
"Tobin," she called toward the driver's seat, voice warm and steady. "How much longer until we reach the town?"
The older man's voice drifted back, gruff but friendly. "With yesterday's delay, we'll roll in just after sunset if nothing else slows us down. No promises, though—roads have a mind of their own."
The day passed mostly smooth. The forest gave way to open plains, golden fields of grain swaying under the breeze, and in the distance a sturdy wooden palisade reinforced with iron bands came into view. A small pack of kobolds tried their luck once, hissing from the underbrush, but Rebecca dispatched them with a few precise swings of her blade—nothing worth mentioning.
At the town gates there was hardly a line. One guard stepped forward, palm out expectantly. Tobin dropped three silver coins into it without comment. The guard waved them through with a bored nod.
As they rolled along the cobbled street, the town unfolded around them: merchants calling out wares, children chasing each other, a mix of humans, a few elves, and even a burly dwarf or two. Tobin's voice pulled Rebecca back.
"You're still a villager at heart, miss. Don't get lost staring. I know a decent inn—clean beds, hot water, the works. My treat."
The place he stopped at looked expensive: polished sign, flower boxes under the windows, and the faint scent of fresh bread wafting out. Rebecca raised a brow. "You sure about the payment, Tobin?"
He chuckled, already climbing down. "Least I can do after everything. Go on with one of the lads—he'll get you registered. I'll park the carriage and join you later."
Inside the lobby, dark wood and soft lantern light greeted them. They received their key and climbed the stairs to a spacious room with its own private bath. Rebecca turned to Lirael with a gentle smile once the door clicked shut.
"Let's bathe together, Lirael. The baths big enough and we can even wash each other's back."
Lirael hesitated, cheeks pink, but nodded. "If… if you want to, my lady."
Rebecca slipped into the warm water first, sighing as the heat eased her muscles, then patted the spot in front of her. Lirael stepped in and began washing Rebecca's hair, fingers working carefully through the strands. After a while Rebecca stood, switched places, and started on Lirael's golden braids, lathering them with slow, tender strokes.
"You've got something on your mind," Rebecca said softly, not looking up from her task. "I can feel it. Go on—ask."
Lirael stayed quiet for a long moment, chewing her lip, then whispered, "Rebecca… are you really human?"
Rebecca gave a low, warm chuckle, continuing to rinse the soap from the braids with gentle fingers. Rebecca gave a low, warm chuckle.
"Yes, I am. Or… you could say I'm not. Depends how you look at it."
Lirael shot up so fast water splashed over the rim. "That doesn't answer anything!" she cried, then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. "I—I'm sorry, my lady. I didn't mean to raise my voice."
Rebecca simply stepped closer, calm as ever. Lirael lifted her hands defensively out of habit, but Rebecca only guided her back down into the water and continued rinsing the soap from her hair.
"I am human, Lirael. Born and raised in a little village just like any other woman. I had a husband once… a good man. When he passed, grief nearly swallowed me whole. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. One day I took my sickle and went hunting alone in the woods, hoping a quiet end would help. That's when I found him."
She paused, letting the words settle, her voice staying calm and motherly. "He wasn't like anything I'd ever seen. A symbiote, he called himself. Hurt and alone, just like me. We talked—mind to mind, the same way he will speak to you soon. I offered him shelter in my body if he'd help me survive and grow. He agreed. It's mutual, dear. He gives me strength when I need it. I give him a home and… companionship. He's already inside me and you, yes, but he's not controlling us. We can share everything willingly."
Lirael's eyes were wide, breath shallow. Before she could spiral into panic, the calm, smooth voice spoke directly into her mind.
*Don't panic, Elf. I'm not… here to hurt you. Rebecca and I… we chose each other.*
Lirael flinched slightly. "There's… there's a voice in my head."
Rebecca nodded, still smiling softly. "See? Do you feel any different? Any pain? Any chains?"
"No… but it's there."
*Submit to me. I will grant… strength if you… Desire. Help you surpass… your limit. Just say… the word.*
A warm rush flooded Lirael's body instantly—muscles tightening, senses sharpening, a surge of power she could almost taste. Her eyes went wide.
"This… this is how you defeated the orcs?"
Rebecca's nod was gentle. "It is. He's been with me ever since that day in the woods. And I've never felt more alive."
Lirael exhaled shakily, processing everything. "Incredible…"
Rebecca finished rinsing her hair, then stood and stepped out of the basin, wrapping a towel around herself. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Lirael's forehead. "Enjoy the rest of your bath, dear. Take your time. I'll leave you two to get properly acquainted tonight—I'm going to see the other side of this town myself." She waved lightly as she headed for the door, a knowing little smile on her lips.
The next morning, Rebecca, Lirael, and Tobin stood outside the inn under a clear sky. Tobin pressed a sealed letter into Lirael's hands.
"Quest completion proof. You earned it, lass."
Lirael clutched it gratefully. "Thank you, Tobin. For everything."
He turned to leave, then paused and leaned in, voice dropping low. "I know you two are strong… but don't linger in this town too long. Bandits have been busy lately."
Rebecca's brow furrowed. "Why the warning?"
Tobin shrugged. "Just a rumor. Watch your backs." Then he was gone, walking off toward the caravan without another word.
Rebecca turned to Lirael, calm as ever. "Shall we head to the adventurer guild?"
Lirael nodded, braids swaying. "Yes, my lady."
The guild hall was a large two-story building of stone and timber. Rebecca's eyes widened in quiet amazement at the size, while Lirael only giggled beside her. A playful swat landed on the elf's backside.
"Behave," Rebecca murmured, smiling.
The moment they stepped inside, the smell hit them—stale ale, sweat, leather, and steel. Every eye in the lobby turned their way, most of them locking onto the heavy sack slung over Rebecca's shoulder. The faint metallic scent of monster blood leaked from it.
They walked up to the reception desk where a young woman with neat brown hair tied back in a simple ponytail waited, her uniform crisp and her expression politely professional.
Lirael stepped forward. "I'm here to claim the reward for a Merchant escort quest and… to disband my old party."
The receptionist nodded, pulling out a ledger. "Of course. May I see your proof of completion?"
Lirael handed over the letter from Tobin, then continued, voice steady but quiet. "My teammates… they didn't make it. We ran into an orc commander in the forest. It was… bad."
Before she could finish, four rough-looking adventurers swaggered over, reeking of last night's ale.
"Bet she abandoned them," one sneered, arms crossed. "Typical elf trick—run off and leave the humans to die."
He turned to the receptionist. "What's the punishment for false reporting and party abandonment again?"
The young woman answered flatly, "Slavery in most cases, sir. Guild policy is strict on that."
The man reached out and grabbed Lirael's wrist hard. "So you'd better cough up the truth right now, you elf who—"
Rebecca's hand snapped forward, seized his wrist, and twisted with a sharp *crack*. The man howled as the bone broke. She dropped the sack at the same time; the knot slipped open.
The orc commander's severed head rolled out, tusks still gleaming, followed by a cascade of bloody ears. The entire guild lobby went deathly silent.
Unlike ordinary corpses, the flesh of monsters did not rot quickly. Even in death, the mana within their bodies lingered for some time, preserving the flesh and bone long enough for hunters to claim proof of their kills.
The receptionist gasped, eyes wide.
Rebecca turned to her with a polite, motherly smile. "Dear, could you find someone to appraise this for me? I'd like to know its worth."
Lirael finished her sentence quickly, voice steady now. "I and the merchant caravan were saved by Miss Rebecca. She's the one who killed the commander."
The receptionist stared, mouth slightly open.
"Huh?!"