The heavy wooden wheels of the guild cart rattled away, disappearing down the dirt road toward the Ranvee Kingdom.
Left entirely alone at the edge of the Beast Forest, an eleven-year-old girl let out a quiet, satisfied breath. She had fair skin, sharp blue eyes, and silver hair that fell neatly past her shoulders. Dressed in a short black dress, sturdy leather boots, and a pointed witch's hat tilted slightly against the sun, Lyra looked entirely out of place in the deadly wilderness.
She gripped a wooden staff matching her own height. The polished wood curved at the top, cradling a glowing, faintly pulsing yellow orb.
"Perfect," Lyra murmured, adjusting her grip on the staff. "Everyone is obsessed with the new Ranvee ruins. It's the best chance to explore the Beast Forest dungeon without any interruptions."
She stepped off the main road and onto a faint social trail worn down by generations of hunters. The forest was dense and humid, but she navigated the roots and thick ferns with practiced ease.
A few hundred yards in, she stopped.
A dark, wet smear stained the green moss on the trail. Lyra knelt, hovering her hand over the crimson drops. Fresh. Her sharp eyes traced the red spots leading directly toward the rocky incline where the dungeon entrance was located. It was highly unusual to see a fresh blood trail on this specific path today. She stood up, tapping her staff lightly against the earth. Is it human or monster blood?
Following the crimson drops, a dark cave opening soon appeared in the rock face. The blood led straight into the pitch-black maw.
"Only one way to find out," she whispered, stepping into the damp, echoing dark.
The trail didn't go far. Just inside the cavern, collapsed against the cold stone wall, lay a boy her age. His white shirt was shredded, soaked entirely in blood, and his limbs were bent at unnatural angles.
Lyra rushed forward, dropping to her knees. She pressed two fingers hard against his neck. A faint, frantic pulse beat against her fingertips. He's alive.
Without wasting a second, she unclipped a small leather pouch from her belt and pulled out a basic healing potion. Uncorking the glass, she carefully tilted his head back and poured the bitter liquid down his throat.
A faint green glow washed over his skin. The deep lacerations on his arms and face slowly knit themselves together, leaving only pale scars behind. However, his right leg remained hideously swollen, the bone clearly fractured beneath the skin.
"Damn it," Lyra hissed, rocking back on her heels. "A basic potion can't mend shattered bones."
She stared at the unconscious, broken boy. He wasn't her problem. She had come all this way to map the dungeon, gather rare core materials, and level up her rank. Dragging dead weight back to Arkenfall would ruin an entire day of planning.
She stood up, gripping her staff tightly, and took three steps deeper into the cavern.
She stopped. Her boots refused to move any further.
Everyone went to Ranvee today, her logical mind supplied. No one else will come down this trail. If I leave him, he will die in this cave.
Letting out a frustrated, highly annoyed groan, Lyra spun around and marched back to the boy. "I am going to make you pay for this," she threatened the unconscious stranger.
Raising her staff, she channeled a heavy surge of mana into the yellow orb. The cavern floor rumbled. Loose rocks and damp earth shifted, pulling violently together until a bulky, seven-foot-tall Rock Golem formed in the darkness.
"Pick him up," she ordered. "Gently."
The golem obeyed, lifting the boy effortlessly into its thick, stone arms.
Exiting the cave, Lyra calculated the route. "If we take the social trail back, the blood scent will attract scavengers. It will take too long. We need a shortcut."
Leaving the marked path behind, she led the golem directly through the dense, untamed woods. The brush tore at her dress, but she kept a rapid pace.
A heavy, guttural snarl broke the quiet.
Stepping out from behind a thick pine was a towering, six-foot Orc. It gripped a rusted battleaxe, its yellow eyes locking hungrily onto the girl and her bleeding cargo.
Lyra didn't flinch. Her blue eyes narrowed in pure annoyance. "I am incredibly busy right now."
She thrust her staff forward. A swirling vortex of concentrated fire erupted from the yellow orb. The roaring flames expanded instantly to the size of the Orc, engulfing the monster completely. The beast shrieked, collapsing into a charred heap of ash and roasted armor before it even had the chance to swing its axe.
"Keep moving," she ordered the golem. She glanced back at the boy. "You owe me twice now."
They pushed deeper into the thickest part of the timber.
Then, the air changed.
Lyra froze in her tracks. The temperature plummeted. A suffocating, crushing weight pressed down on her chest, completely different from the mindless hunger of the Orc. This was an intelligent, paralyzing bloodlust. Someone—or something—was watching her.
A single drop of cold sweat slid down her chin. She tightened her grip on her staff, her knuckles turning white.
Behind me.
She whipped around, launching a blazing fire vortex directly into a cluster of dense bushes. The foliage instantly incinerated, leaving a scorched, smoking crater. But there was nothing there.
The ominous, terrifying presence didn't fade. It shifted. Left.
She pivoted, firing a high-speed spear of compressed wind at a towering oak tree. The trunk splintered violently, raining sharp wood over the forest floor. Again, nothing.
A horrific chill shot directly up her spine. It's playing with me.
"Run," she commanded the golem. Tapping her staff against the dirt, she desperately burned through her mana reserves, summoning two identical rock golems to flank her rear.
She sprinted through the trees, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
A whistling sound tore through the canopy.
A large wooden club, slick with fresh blood, flew out of the shadows at terrifying speed. It slammed directly into the left decoy golem, shattering the seven-foot construct into a pile of useless pebbles instantly.
Panic flooded Lyra's veins. She didn't look back. She hurled a blind barrage of fireballs over her shoulder toward the tree line, illuminating the dark forest with explosive orange light. She pushed her legs faster, gasping for air.
CRUNCH.
A heavy granite boulder sailed through the air, completely obliterating the second decoy golem.
It's still right behind me. She didn't stop. She ran until her lungs burned, bursting through the final line of trees and stumbling out onto the dirt merchant road. She didn't slow down, keeping a frantic pace down the road for a full mile before her legs finally gave out.
She collapsed onto her knees in the dirt, gasping for breath. The stone golem carrying the boy crumbled into dust, depositing him gently onto the road.
"I'm empty," she panted, her staff rolling from her trembling fingers. Her mana reserves were completely drained from the frantic escape.
She forced herself to look back at the dark edge of the Beast Forest. Nothing moved. The terrifying presence was gone, replaced by dead, unnatural silence.
The rumble of wooden wheels broke the quiet. A merchant cart was making its way down the road toward Arkenfall. Lyra scrambled to her feet, stepping into the center of the road and waving her arms wildly.
The driver pulled the reins, bringing the cart to a halt. He looked down at the exhausted girl and the bleeding boy in the dirt. "What happened here?"
"I found him unconscious in the forest," Lyra lied smoothly. She adjusted the brim of her hat, forcing her trembling hands to remain perfectly still. "If we don't get him a potion right now, he will die."
The merchant cursed under his breath, rummaging through his lockbox. He jumped down and tipped a basic healing vial into the boy's mouth. The ugly swelling in Ravon's leg visibly reduced, though the bone remained crooked.
"He is out of the immediate danger zone," the merchant sighed, wiping his brow. "But he needs an advanced potion to fix that fracture. Get him in the back."
Lyra climbed into the cart, sitting beside the unconscious boy as the merchant spurred the horses toward the city. As the forest faded into the distance, her analytical mind raced.
That monster wasn't normal. It was hiding its presence perfectly. Was it just toying with me? She crossed her arms, her blue eyes narrowing with fierce determination. "When I reach A-rank, I am going back to that forest. And I am going to make it pay."
The sun had fully set by the time the cart pulled up to the Arkenfall Inn. Lyra handed the merchant four of her own silver coins to cover the transport and hauled the boy over her shoulder. He was incredibly heavy.
She pushed the door open. The small brass bell chimed.
Elizabeth looked up from the front desk. "Welcome back, Lyra—oh my god! What happened to Ravon?"
"You know him?" Lyra grunted, shifting his weight on her shoulder. "I found him bleeding out in the forest."
"He just registered yesterday," Elizabeth gasped, rushing out from behind the counter. "He's staying in Room Twelve."
"He is coming to my room," Lyra stated firmly, heading straight for the stairs. "I need to treat his leg, and I am not doing it in the hallway."
Ignoring the innkeeper's worried protests, the little witch dragged her new patient up the stairs and kicked the heavy oak door of Room Thirteen shut.
***
A colossal, leathery hand clamped around Ravon's torso.
He was hoisted twenty feet into the air. Staring back at him was a dead, pitch-black eye and a wide, terrifyingly creepy smile. The deep, rotating black spiral mark burned on the Cyclops's neck like a brand of pure nightmare.
The monster squeezed.
Bones snapped. Ravon opened his mouth, unleashing a raw, agonizing scream—
He gasped, his eyes snapping open.
He shot upright, his chest heaving as he frantically sucked in air. He was drenched in cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
He wasn't in the forest. He was sitting on a soft mattress, covered in a thick wool blanket.
As the blind panic slowly receded, the sharp, pungent scent of bitter herbs and ozone filled his nose. He turned his head. Sitting a few feet away, illuminated by the low fire of a small hearth, was a silver-haired girl exactly his age. She was carefully stirring a cast-iron cauldron with a long wooden spoon.
"Where am I?" Ravon asked, his voice cracking from disuse.
The girl didn't look up from the bubbling liquid. "You are disturbing me."
Ravon closed his mouth, taking a moment to scan his surroundings. The room was identical to his own, but entirely cluttered. Heavy, leather-bound books were stacked haphazardly on the desk, surrounded by strangely shaped glass tubes, alembics, and a perfectly preserved animal skull. Resting against the wall beside his bed was a curved wooden staff with a pointed black hat hanging from the top.
Finally, the girl tapped the wooden spoon against the cauldron and turned to face him. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto his.
"I am Lyra. And you are in my room," she stated flatly. "I found you bleeding to death at the entrance of the Beast Forest dungeon. You were completely unconscious with a shattered leg. I had to carry you out."
The memory of the fall and the dark cave rushed back. Ravon looked down at his right leg. It was perfectly straight, free of any pain.
He looked back at the silver-haired girl, a deep wave of gratitude washing over him. "Thank you so much for saving me."
Lyra crossed her arms, entirely unmoved by the sentiment. "You owe me. I spent my own silver, used my own potions, and nearly got pulverized by a stalking monster just to drag you out of there."
Ravon flinched, the heavy guilt settling into his stomach right where she intended it to. "I'm sorry for the trouble you faced."
"Apologies don't restock my inventory," Lyra replied practically. "When you are fully recovered, you are going to help me with my quests to pay off your debt. And you are only getting a very small portion of the reward."
Ravon didn't hesitate. "I agree."
Lyra blinked, slightly surprised by how quickly he accepted the harsh terms. She quickly recovered her stoic expression and pointed toward the door. "Good. Now get out and go to your own room. I need to sleep."
Gathering his leather pouch and his chipped sword from the bedside chair, Ravon quietly stepped out of the room.
The hallway was dimly lit. Elizabeth was standing near the top of the stairs, holding a stack of clean linens. When she saw him, she nearly dropped the towels.
"Ravon! How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," he answered, testing his weight on his right leg. "My leg aches a little, but it works." He glanced back at the closed oak door. "Elizabeth, who exactly is she?"
"That is Lyra. The little witch I warned you about," Elizabeth whispered, stepping closer. "Ravon, you have been completely unconscious in her room for an entire week."
"A week?" Ravon repeated, stunned.
"Yes. Your leg was horribly mangled. She used an incredibly rare, advanced healing potion on you the night she brought you back. If she hadn't, you would likely still be in a coma right now."
Ravon stared at the wood of Room Thirteen. She had acted so cold and transactional, demanding he work off his debt. Yet she had spent a week looking after him and sacrificed a high-tier potion just to fix his leg.
"I have to repay her," he murmured.
"Be careful," Elizabeth warned gently. "She saved you, yes. But she is still very dangerous. Always stay on your guard around her."
A wave of intense dizziness suddenly hit Ravon, the exhaustion of the magical healing finally catching up to his conscious mind. He swayed slightly, grabbing the wall for support.
"I want to rest," he breathed.
"I cleaned Room Twelve for you," Elizabeth said, her tone softening with sympathy. "Go sleep. I will come wake you when dinner is ready."
Nodding his thanks, Ravon unlocked his door and collapsed onto his own bed, his mind swirling with images of a smiling monster and a silver-haired witch.