Date: April 26, 542 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
She stood at the edge of the valley, the white sand warm, almost alive beneath her feet. Ulviya watched the two warriors frozen in the center of this strange, silent world, feeling her heart pound somewhere in her throat. She didn't know who they were. Didn't know where they came from. But she knew one thing — a fight had just taken place between them, and it had been brutal.
The dwarf — stocky, broad-shouldered, with a reddish beard and an axe in his hand — was covered in blood. His clothes were in tatters, and through the tears she saw deep cuts and purple bruises. One eye was swollen shut, blood still oozed from a split brow, and he breathed heavily, with a rasp. But he stood straight. His axe was raised, and in his eyes, bright green, burned a fire that neither pain nor fatigue could quench.
The second — tall, thin, with long silver hair and mismatched eyes — looked almost unharmed. His clothes had a few slits, and from one, on his shoulder, blood seeped, but overall he seemed fresh, almost rested. Only his breathing, ragged, deep, betrayed that he too was tired. Very tired.
And between them, slightly behind the dwarf, stood a bear. Huge, brown, with silver stripes on his fur that pulsed in time with his heart. He didn't growl, didn't bare his teeth — simply looked at Ulviya with his amber eyes, and in his gaze was something that sent a chill down her spine. Not fear — respect.
They had noticed her. All three.
---
Datuk was the first to lower his axe. Not because he trusted — because he had no strength left to hold it up. He leaned on the haft, breathing heavily, and looked at the woman standing at the valley's edge. Short, stocky, with short chestnut hair and one arm — the second hidden beneath a long sleeve. She wore worn travel clothes, and at her belt hung a glove with metal plates. Not beautiful, not ugly. Ordinary. Like many.
But there was something about her. Something that made him tense, even though she just stood there.
"A Warrior," Datuk realized, listening to his inner sensitivity. Her energy, her spirit — all at the Warrior level. Not a Pillar. Weaker. Much weaker. He could break her with one hand if he were in shape. But now, after fighting that long-haired freak, he could barely stand.
"Who are you?" he asked. His voice was hoarse, strained.
The girl didn't answer. Just looked. At him, at Rosh, at Sobra. And in her gaze was something that made Datuk think.
"She's not afraid," he thought. "Standing here, in front of us, and not afraid. Either stupid, or... no, probably stupid."
Sobra, standing beside him, snorted. Datuk felt his friend's concern — the bear didn't understand why they had stopped. But he trusted his friend. If Datuk lowered his axe, so be it.
---
Rosh watched the woman and felt his Vector Spirit, tired, depleted, slowly calm. The fight with the dwarf had drained him almost completely — his fingers ached, his head throbbed, and his chest ached with each breath. He didn't want to continue. Not now. Not with her.
"A Warrior," he noted to himself. Her rank was obvious — not a Pillar, no. Weaker. Much weaker. He could kill her with one move if he wanted. But he didn't want to. First, because he saw no threat in her. Second, because he had no strength for an unnecessary fight.
"Who are you?" he asked, repeating the dwarf's question. His voice was cold, steady, without threat.
The girl looked at him. Her eyes — brown, tired, but alive — met his mismatched gaze. She didn't look away.
"Strange," Rosh thought. "Very strange. And her left arm... what's wrong with it?"
He noticed the fabric of her left sleeve moving, as if something alive was beneath it. Not muscle, not bone — something else. A plant? He had heard of such — of those connected to life, to nature, to the forest. Those who could grow body parts with their power. Interesting. Very interesting.
"Maybe she's not as weak as she seems," Rosh thought, and his fingers, resting on his thigh, twitched faintly, ready to trace a new vector. Just in case.
---
Ulviya stood at the valley's edge, feeling three gazes on her. Heavy, different. The dwarf looked with challenge and fatigue, his green, bright eyes studying her, appraising. The half-blood looked cold, detached, but in his mismatched eyes — green and brown — flickered something like curiosity. The bear looked calmly, almost indifferently, but Ulviya knew — if she made a wrong move, he would attack faster than she could blink.
"Pillars," she understood, listening to her inner sensitivity. "Both are Pillars. Even the bear is a Pillar."
She herself was a Warrior. Just a Warrior. The difference in power was enormous — in a one-on-one fight, she wouldn't last a minute against either of them. But they didn't attack. Just watched. Assessed.
"They see who I am," Ulviya thought. "And they're not afraid. Because I'm weaker."
She shifted her gaze to the dwarf. He was covered in blood — his shirt was in tatters, and through the tears she saw deep cuts and purple bruises. One rib, probably, was broken — he breathed with difficulty, and each inhale made his face twist in pain. But he stood. Stood straight, and his axe was raised.
"He's strong," Ulviya thought. "Not just in body — in spirit. He wouldn't give up even if both legs were broken."
Then she looked at the half-blood. He looked almost unharmed — a few scratches, a cut on his shoulder, a broken leg already beginning to heal. But his breathing was ragged, deep, and Ulviya noticed how his fingers, folded in some strange gesture, trembled.
"He's tired," she understood. "Very tired. This fight drained him almost dry."
So they were equal. Not in power — in exhaustion. The dwarf was wounded but full of fury. The half-blood was unharmed but exhausted. The bear — a wild card, unknown.
Ulviya looked at the white sand, at the silver leaves glinting faintly in the light, at the pedestals scattered across the valley. She hadn't come here to fight. She had come to collect. To understand. To find a way out.
"I'm not your enemy," she said, and her voice, quiet, calm, carried across the white valley. "I don't want to fight. I want to understand what's happening here."
The dwarf smirked. His smirk was crooked, almost angry.
"What's happening here is that this idiot," he nodded at Rosh, "decided the leaves belong only to him."
"They belong to no one," Rosh replied, irritation in his voice. "But whoever is stronger takes them. That's the law."
"A stupid law," Ulviya said.
"Perhaps," Rosh shrugged. "But it's my law."
"I agree with the idiot, it's a weighty law," the dwarf answered with a smile.
Silence fell over the valley again. Ulviya looked at them, thoughts churning in her head. That she could simply leave. Turn around and go on, collect her own leaves, not interfere in someone else's fight. That she could take a side — the dwarf seemed more honest, but the half-blood was more dangerous. That she could try to reconcile them, but that was laughable — two Pillars, two warriors, two stubborn men who listened to no one but themselves.
"What should I do?" Ulviya thought, and her left hand, her living vine, stirred faintly beneath her sleeve, as if also seeking an answer.
She didn't know. But she knew one thing: she couldn't stay on the sidelines. Not now. Not here.
"My name is Ulviya," she said, stepping forward. "I'm also collecting leaves. And I don't want to fight. But if you continue — I'll have to choose a side."
The dwarf smirked. Rosh frowned. The bear, huge, brown, with silver stripes, tilted his head, watching her with his amber eyes.
"Choose," Datuk said. "But quickly. I have little patience."
"And I," Rosh added.
And the white valley waited. Waited for her decision. Waited for the silence to break, for the world to explode into battle once more. Or perhaps into something else. Something no one expected.