This is the SFW version of the novel without the smol/l*li stuff (it will nuke this novel). For the NSFW version, please visit my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/SmallScribble.
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Ysabel stood up and went toward her armor rack. Her armor – steel plates burnished to a low gleam, segmented for flexibility clanked faintly as she fastened it. With one final, almost tender glance back at Caelith's unconscious form sprawled amidst the soaked ruins of the bed, she murmured, "I'm sorry."
The apology was whispered, weightless in the silence, but it held genuine remorse for dragging an innocent girl into her mad pursuit of a ghost.
Stepping out of the room, she moved with the easy grace of the veteran soldier she was. The air outside was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the sweat-drenched heat of their encounter. Soldiers bustled past, averting their eyes respectfully. Guards stood stiffly at their posts. The barrack grounds were filled with the usual, controlled atmosphere.
"Last day of my leave starts now," she reminded herself, her backpack containing only the most essential provisions: hardtack, dried meat, water, a flint, and a change of clothes.
Her goal was clear, singular – find the source of the spell, or rather, the woman who wielded it. The one who broke something deep inside her with just one taste.
Ysabel strode down the cobbled path leading towards the outer gates. She had barely covered a few meters when a hunched figure caught her peripheral vision. The person was clad in a simple, dark robe, hood pulled low over their face, skulking awkwardly near a decorative hedge, utterly out of place in the formal grandeur of the palace grounds.
Training took over. In an instant, she was beside the figure, a firm, gauntleted hand clamping down on their shoulder with practiced ease. "Hey you! What are you doing sneaking around here? Show yourself!"
The figure yelped in surprise, stumbling back slightly, but unable to break Ysabel's grip. They attempted a bluff, pitching their voice unconvincingly low and rough. "I-I w-was just avoiding the sun! Bright today, eh?" The forced chuckle was high and nervous, completely at odds with the deep voice attempted.
Ysabel's hazel eyes narrowed. The build… the posture… the slight scent beneath the mustiness of the robe… 'Impossible. Could it be?'
Without hesitation, she shoved the figure roughly towards a dark, narrow alleyway nearby. The hooded figure tripped and scrambled to keep their balance. Ysabel followed swiftly, her heart pounding not just with surprise, but with strange, electrifying certainty.
In the sudden gloom of the alley, away from prying eyes, Ysabel pushed the figure against the damp stone wall. Her voice was urgent. "What are you doing out here princess?"