The second horn blast faded—replaced by the thunder of charging beasts and stomping boots.

  Rica: "We can't win this. Not with those Bonds active."

  Josh: "So we're bailing?!"

  Iver: "We're regrouping. We live today, we strike tomorrow. MOVE!"

  Queen roared above, unleashing a cascade of radiant wind to stall the advancing wave. The light staggered the first line of enemies, just long enough.

  They didn't hesitate.

  Ren: "Stick together! Form up! Stay close!"

  The group turned on their heels, slicing through bramble and broken trees. Hornbeast cleared a path ahead with sheer weight while Scruffler weaved like a green blur around Marian, keeping her upright and fast.

  Snarl howled—leading Kristie and Cedy down a slope. Lily and Elly held Seri's hands tight, Koirin glowing between them as a shield shimmered against debris.

  Lyra ran lightly behind Iver, her parasol now used as a wind deflector as she smiled even in retreat.

  Lyra: "We call this a dramatic exit!"

  Rej: "Shut up and RUN!"

  But just when the group thought they were cutting through safely—

  BOOM.

  The earth shattered.

  A beast—twice the size of Hornbeast—crashed from the cliffs above, its claws punching into the ground with such force it ruptured the trail. The land buckled. Trees toppled. The dirt gave way.

  Ren barely had time to react.

  Ren: "—NO!"

  The ground split under his feet.

  Elly screamed his name. Iver reached a hand out—too late. Vultherin leapt toward him, frostfire flaring in its wake just as the gap widened into a deep sinkhole.

  He fell—rocks tumbling beside him, light spiraling up, and the sound of his team shouting fading behind the rush of wind and cracking earth.

  Then—

  A secluded glade—so quiet it felt like the world had held its breath. The soft ripple of a pond broke the silence. Sunlight spilled through leaves like golden ribbons. For the first time in days, the air was still.

  Ren stirred and sat up, wincing as Vultherin landed beside him with a soft thud, steam rising off the frostflame fox's fur.

  Then... a noise.

  A brush. Dabbed. Swished. Flicked.

  Ren turned.

  Sitting on a flat rock by the pond was a girl.

  She was... small. Not in age—he couldn't quite tell that—but her build was childlike, round-cheeked and softly shaped like a doll carved from warm clay. Her thick, dark bob cut framed her face like a cap, and her oversized painter's apron made her look even smaller.

  She sat perfectly still as she painted the pond—his arrival apparently not worth turning around for.

  Ella: "You fall from the sky like that often?"

  Ren: "...Huh?"

  Ella finally looked over her shoulder.

  Her expression: completely deadpan.

  Ella: "I ask because that landing was tragic."

  Ren blinked.

  She turned back to her canvas and kept painting—casually, like he was just another bird she was sketching.

  Ella: "Stay still. You're ruining the water. I just fixed that ripple."

  Ren: "...Do I know you?"

  Ella: "Probably not. But your face screams 'responsibility trauma,' so I feel like I've seen your type before."

  Ren furrowed his brows.

  Ren: "Who are you?"

  She dipped her brush into green and spoke with that flat, unbothered tone only a girl built like a sentient capybara could pull off.

  Ella: "Ella. I paint things. I eat snacks. I dodge existential dread like a champ."

  Ren: "...Do you live here?"

  Ella: "Nope. I haunt this place occasionally. Good lighting. Better frogs."

  He stepped closer. Vultherin, still mildly steamed, huffed beside him.

  She squinted at the frostflame fox.

  Ella: "He looks like a fox that touched a lava rock."

  Vultherin growled.

  Ella: "Yeah yeah, bark bark. Don't burn my easel."

  She finally set her brush down and looked at Ren fully, head tilting slightly. Her doll-like features made it impossible to guess what she was thinking, but her eyes...

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  Too observant. Too sharp.

  Ella: "You've got that look. The one people get before they do something stupidly noble."

  Ren: "I... don't even know where I am."

  Ella: "Obviously. You crashed like a loosed potato sack."

  She stood up—short, barely reaching his ribs—and brushed off her apron with tiny, dramatic slaps.

  Ella: "Don't worry. You're not dead. Just in a pocket grove. They show up when the forest takes pity."

  Ren: "...A what?"

  Ella: "A mercy spot. The world gives you five minutes to breathe before you have to go back to chaos."

  He stared at her.

  Ren: "Are you always like this?"

  Ella, yawning: "Like what?"

  Ren: "Peaceful. But... terrifying."

  She grinned lazily.

  Ren: "So... just to be clear, I nearly broke my spine falling from a ledge, and the first thing I land next to is a girl painting a pond?"

  Ella, without looking: "Tragedy meets timing. Be grateful I'm not a bear monster."

  Ren: "I'm starting to think that might've been safer."

  Ella dipped her brush in ochre.

  Ella: "Fair enough, at least a bear wouldn't talk back."

  Ren glanced at her half-finished painting. It was... good. Striking, even. There was a certain rhythm to it—calm and layered, like someone who sees too much but says too little.

  Ren: "You always this good at painting or is this just how you cope with social interaction?"

  Ella: "Yes."

  Ren: "That wasn't supposed to be a yes-or-no question."

  Ella: "I know."

  She smiled faintly, the smug kind that Ren already wanted to throw her into a bush.

  He sighed and stretched out his shoulders. Vultherin sniffed at her open bag, curious.

  Ella: "Touch the snacks, and I turn you into abstract art."

  Vultherin huffed and backed away with dramatic offense.

  Ren chuckled.

  Ren: "You really live out here alone?"

  Ella: "Not alone. Just... selectively distant."

  Ren: "You sound like Rica."

  Ella: "She's tolerable."

  Ren raised a brow.

  Ren: "Wait—you know Rica?"

  Ella didn't answer, only swirled a streak of gold across her canvas.

  Then Ren, casually snooping with a bored glance, spotted something peeking out of her sketchbook pile—a folded-up drawing. Messier, looser lines. Sharp jawlines. Flowing hair. Ridiculous poses.

  Ren blinked. Then grinned.

  Ren: "Are those... pretty boys?"

  Ella froze.

  It was a rough but lovingly detailed sketch of The Silver Saints—an elite A-Rank adventuring party from Lithrium. All men. All ridiculously handsome. One had a glowing falcon on his arm. Another posed with his shirt barely hanging off. There were annotations written beside their names in small, excited handwriting.

  Ren, smug: "Wait—are you a fangirl?"

  Ella: "I'm an appreciator of tactical aesthetic and combat form!"

  Ren grinned wider.

  Ren: "You wrote 'Gareth's jawline could slice evil in half'."

  Ella: "I study form and figure—"

  Ren: "This one literally has abs drawn like a watermelon. Who are they?!"

  Ella reached out, red-faced.

  Ella: "Give. That. Back."

  Ren flipped the page.

  Ren: "Wait—is this one winking while holding a sword made of roses?!"

  Ella grabbed a brush and pointed it at his throat.

  Ella: "I WILL IMPALE YOU WITH COLOR."

  Ren, grinning: "Aha. The cool, mysterious artist has a fan-girl core. I knew something was off."

  Ella: "They're narratively complex! You wouldn't understand!"

  Ren: "Nope. I completely understand now. You like sparkly power poses and long-haired men who cry once every arc."

  Ella: "That is called range, peasant."

  Her face was bright red now, all composure dissolved into a flustered storm.

  Ren: "Say it. Say you have a type."

  Ella: "I have a palette, not a type!"

  She hurled her palette again.

  SMACK.

  Paint exploded against Ren's cloak.

  Vultherin screeched and leapt aside—again.

  Ren: "Okay, okay—truce!"

  Ella stood breathing hard, arms crossed, clearly mortified.

  Ren, laughing: "So, the mysterious painter has a weak spot."

  Ella: "Say one more word, and I'll sketch you as a background character."

  Ren: "Oh no. Not that. Anything but emotionally irrelevant."

  She turned away, mumbling.

  Ella: "Gareth would've understood me..."

  Then, time was up....

  The hidden grove faded behind Ren as he stepped back into the war-torn clearing.

  The air smelled of scorched bark, sweat, and adrenaline. Charred leaves floated like ash-snow.

  What he saw almost made him stop—

  The battle had not ended.

  If anything, it had gotten worse.

  Vultherin landed beside him in a pulse of frostflame, snarling. The others were still fighting—badly outnumbered.

  Josh swung his blade from atop Hornbeast, cutting through two enemies in a blur.

  Rica stood atop Queen's back, raining down light strikes while Marian guarded the rear with Scruffler snapping at every flank.

  Iver and Kristie fought back-to-back, Kristie breathlessly laughing while Snarl circled and tackled from below.

  And just beyond the treeline, Lyra lounged lazily on a thick tree root, legs swinging as she nibbled on a plum.

  Lyra: "Ooh! That one looked like it hurt. Get him, Josh! Bite his kneecaps, Hornbeast!"

  Cedy, slinging debris and nails: "Lyra! Do something!"

  Lyra: "I am doing something. I'm providing morale."

  Jonax: "Then morale's useless."

  Lyra stood, still twirling her staff like a baton. She casually stepped to Iver's side as he parried a blow.

  Lyra: "Hey, handsome, need a stat buff? Or moral support?"

  Iver: "Please tell me you at least know how to throw a rock."

  Lyra: "No promises, but I can write your eulogy very poetically."

  She winked.

  Kristie saw it. Rej and Marian saw it.

  Rej: "Look at her stealing Iver like it's brunch."

  Marian: "Kristie's eye twitching. Oh no."

  Kristie, tense: "I'm. Not. Twitching."

  But none of it mattered—

  Because the giant horned beast that ambushed them earlier was still rampaging.

  Its massive tusks tore through trees like twigs. It howled and charged—

  Right toward Ren.

  He held his ground.

  Ren: "Bring it."

  But before it struck—

  A blur.

  A short figure dashed past him—doll-like frame, cloak fluttering.

  Ella.

  She didn't even glance at Ren as she passed. Her staff spun once, then came down in a clean arc—

  CRACK.

  The beast's leg snapped inward, and it crashed, shaking the ground with a guttural screech.

  Josh: "Alright who brought Baby Yoda here?!"

  Ella didn't stop. She flipped, struck the beast's skull with two successive pressure strikes, and sent a shockwave pulsing through the battlefield.

  Bandits dropped.

  Three at once. Then five.

  She spun like a dancer. A ghost. A storm.

  Lyra, still at Iver's side, whistled.

  Lyra: "Okay... that wasn't morale. That was destruction."

  Cedy: "Forget that... she's a war crime."

  The battlefield fell silent as the surviving bandits began to flee.

  Even the horned beast, whimpering now, tried to crawl—but Ella pointed her staff again, and it collapsed.

  Ella dusted off her skirt like she'd just cleaned a canvas.

  Ella: "Monsters are harder to paint when they're moving. That one's still ugly though."

  Ren, wide-eyed, just exhaled.

  Ren: "You could've warned me, that you're capable of that."

  Ella: "You never asked."

  Smoke still lingered in the air. The battlefield lay quiet—silent, but not peaceful. The enemy was gone. The wounds were real. And standing amidst the ash, Ella looked like she'd just walked out of a peaceful garden.

  Elly stepped forward, half-limping, Koirin floating beside her.

  Elly: "Who... are you?"

  Ella, nonchalantly dipping her brush in a vial of healing ink, began sketching a sigil midair.

  Ella: "Just someone who hates ugly things. Especially loud ones."

  Rica raised a brow, watching as the ink shimmered—then dissolved into a light mist that wrapped around the party. Cuts sealed. Bruises softened.

  Kristie blinked. "Did she just cast a mass heal using art?"

  Josh stared. "Ren, where the hell did you find her again?!"

  Ren shrugged, still catching his breath.

  Ren: "A pond. She was painting."

  Jonax narrowed her eyes. "And you didn't question that?"

  Marian leaned closer to Ella, whispering conspiratorially.

  Marian: "Are you like... secretly a royal? Or some exiled prodigy? Or a magical forest gremlin?"

  Ella: "I'm an artist."

  Cedy: "That's not an answer."

  Ella, unfazed, flicked her brush at a torn banner lying in the dirt. The ink rewove the threads, patching it up.

  Ella: "And you ask too many questions."

  Lyra clapped her hands. "Well! That was entertaining! I give her a 9.8. Lost points for showing up late."

  Ella gave her a long stare, like one might give a squirrel who just insulted their fashion sense.

  Josh tried one more time.

  Josh: "Wait, so you're just gonna walk away without telling us who you really are?"

  Ella paused, then turned—her face unreadable.

  Ella: "You've got enough problems already. I'm not one of them... yet."

  She began walking off into the woods.

  Ren couldn't help himself.

  Ren: "Take care, Capybara-sama!"

  She stopped in her tracks.

  Ella: "...What."

  Ren grinned. "You remind me of one. Small. Mellow. Kinda squishy-looking but surprisingly dangerous."

  Ella, cheeks puffing red: "I am not squishy—!"

  Thunk.

  A wooden palette hit Ren square in the face.

  Ella stormed off before anyone saw the blush crawling up her neck.

  Then, night came...

  The group had made camp a few clearings away. Fire crackled. A stew boiled. Everyone had relaxed—at least on the surface.

  Kristie lay on her back, Snarl curled beside her.

  Kristie: "That Ella girl... something about her feels old. Not in a grandma way. In a... storm-watching-from-a-distance kind of way."

  Iver added, tightening a strap on his glove.

  Iver: "Whatever she is, we owe her."

  Rej poked at the fire. "Wish we knew where she went."

  Ren glanced into the trees, Vultherin flickering softly beside him.

  Ren: "We'll meet her again. People like her always show up when you least expect it."

  Meanwhile...

  Moonlight barely pierced through the branches.

  Lyra moved fast—fluid and silent as a fox, her innocent smile now gone, replaced with a scowl.

  She reached a clearing illuminated by eerie blue lanterns and—waiting for her—stood two unmistakable figures.

  Caden of the Crimson Verse, humming to himself while juggling knives, and

  Valter, the Hollow Bell, seated on a moss-covered stone, gently running fingers across the strings of a harp carved from bone.

  Caden stopped his juggling mid-twirl and cackled.

  Caden: "Our pet returns from the fray! With curls unburned and skin of clay! Did they kiss you? Did they miss you? Did they catch your little play?"

  Lyra: "You maniacs nearly killed me!"

  Valter didn't look up. He only muttered in a slow chant:

  Valter: "Beneath the veil the thorn did dance, cloaked in silk and circumstance..."

  Lyra, furious: "You hijacked a bandit camp and pointed it directly at my face!"

  Caden: "Oh, don't be sour, Lyra dear. The chaos bloomed. The pieces move. Our Shepherd smiles."

  Lyra crossed her arms. "And what about my cover? If Ren or Rica had even sniffed me wrong—!"

  Caden suddenly loomed closer, face inches from hers, smiling too wide.

  Caden: "But they didn't, did they?"

  She flinched.

  He pulled back, twirling.

  Caden: "That's why you're our favorite little thorn. So pretty. So dangerous. So fun."

  Valter, still strumming, whispered:

  Valter: "The bell will toll. The veil will tear. Beware the fox with fire hair."

  Lyra rolled her eyes.

  Lyra: "Just deliver the next step from the Shepherd. I'm done babysitting adventurers."

  Then, from the trees, a new voice emerged.

  A robed messenger knelt at the edge of the clearing.

  Messenger: "The Shepherd says: Hold your position. Await the horn at Lunthale."

  Caden smiled wider.

  Caden: "Oh, joy. A festival of masks and dancing lies."

  Valter stood, silent now.

  Lyra turned back into the trees.

  Lyra: "Idiots..."

  And vanished.

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  Hi guys, it's me again hehe, I've been wondering recently... Which character is your favorite so far? Drop it down in the comments.