The dock creaks beneath Aria's boots as she steps off the boat, the scent of salt and fish thick in the morning air. The port town of Shadestar is lively, filled with the sounds of dockworkers calling orders, merchants hawking their wares, and seagulls crying overhead. Aria adjusts the strap of her bag, her light green eyes sweeping across the busy streets. She doesn't linger.

  With steady, purposeful strides, she moves past the bustling crowds, weaving through fishmongers, sailors and street vendors without much though.

  Then-

  A movement to the side catches her eye. An elderly woman, hunched with age is struggling to lift a wooden crate filled with vegetables and wrapped packages. She lifts it an inch- And then nearly drops it, her frail arms trembling under the weight. Aria changes course immediately.

  Before the woman can attempt another lift, Aria grabs the other side of the crate, easily taking on the bulk of the weight. The old woman startles, looking up at Aria in surprise. "Oh, dear-"

  "Where to?" Aria asks simply, her tone calm, neutral.

  The woman blinks, then gestures toward a narrow street ahead. "Just that way, dear. You're very kind."

  Aria says nothing, only nodding as she carries the crate forward.

  The woman walks beside her, talking about the town, the stubbornness of her grandchildren, and the rising prices at the market. Aria just listens, but doesn't interrupt. When they reach the small house, Aria sets the crate down by the door without a word.

  The woman smiles up at her. "You've got a good heart, young dy."

  Aria shakes her head. "It's just a crate."

  The woman ughs softly. "Maybe, but you didn't have to help."

  Aria nods once, then turns to leave, her boots clicking softly against the stone. The old woman watches her go. Aria doesn't look back, as she leaves and continues begins to move through town. Her steps steady and sure, the weight of her armor barely slowing her.

  She doesn't actively seek out work. But whenever she sees someone struggling, she stops.

  Down by the docks, a man grunts, struggling to bance a barrel of salted fish on his shoulder.

  Before he can lose his grip, Aria steps forward, steadying it.

  He blinks in surprise.

  Aria doesn't say anything, just helps him lower it onto the cart.

  He nods in thanks, flipping her a coin.

  Aria catches it, but doesn't check its value before pocketing in.

  A small boy, sniffles on the street corner, his round face streaked with tears.

  Aria knees, her light green eyes level with him.

  The boy rubs his nose. "Mama told me not to wander, but I saw a puppy and- now I dunno where I am."

  Aria gnces around.

  It takes less than five minutes to find a worried-looking woman scanning the crowd.

  She guides the boy over, standing back as he rushes into his mother's arms.

  The woman turns to Aria, eyes filled with gratitude.

  Aria just nods, smiling as she keeps walking.

  Nearby the docks, and elderly fisherman grumbles, struggling to repair a tangled fishing net.

  Aria watches for a moment, then kneels besides him.

  "Hand me that, I'll help," she says, gesturing to the frayed rope.

  The old man huffs, but passes it over.

  Together they work in silence, mending the net knot by knot.

  By the time they finish, the sun has shifted slightly, the air smelling thicker with brine.

  The fisherman stretches his back, eyeing her with curiosity. "Not a lot of mercenaries willing to waste time on fishing nets."

  Aria shrugs, with a slight smile on her lips. "It wasn't a waste of time."

  The old man chuckles, shaking his head. "Buy yourself a drink, then."

  He presses a few coins into her palm.

  Aria nods, slipping them away.

  And then-She keeps moving.

  By the time Aria reaches the Adventurer's Guild, the sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets. The guildhall looms before her, a rge, sturdy building-part tavern, part headquarters.

  As she steps inside, the scent of alt, stew, and burning wood fills the air.

  The space is alive with activity-mercenaries ughing over drinks, rookies huddled at tables, discussing strategies, and battle-worn veterans counting their coin purses.

  Aria doesn't linger.

  She moves straight to the job board, her light green eyes scanning the hand written requests pinned to the wall.

  Escort missions.Monster subjugation.Treasure retrieval.

  She skims past them all, pausing when she reaches a smaller note near the edge.

  *Seeking an adventurer to collect rare ingredients from the forest to the north. See Master Alchemist Luthen for details.*

  Aria studies the request for a moment, then reaches forward-She pulls it from the board.

  A passing adventurer gnces at her, then at the request. "Ingredient gathering?" he snorts. "Bit tame for someone geared like you."

  "If it's tame, why haven't you done it yet?" Aria says back to him with an attitude of her own. "Or are you incapable of it?"

  She tucks the paper away, and heads towards the front desk. Leaving the man stuttering, and unable to retort back.

  Aria makes her way to the alchemist's shop just as the wooden shutters creak closed.

  A middle-aged elf with streaks of silver in his dark hair stands at the door, locking up for the night.

  He gnces up, eyes tired but sharp. "If you're here for a potion, come back tomorrow," he says gruffly.

  Aria holds up the job request. "Not here to buy."

  The alchemist's expression shifts. He grabs the paper from her hand, scanning it quickly. "Good. You're the first one to take it."

  Aria raises an eyebrow. "No one else tried?"

  The alchemist huffs. "Most adventurers here want coin, not a good deed." He steps back inside, motioning for her to follow.

  The shop is small but cluttered, filled with the scent of dried herbs, bitter roots, and brewing elixirs.

  The alchemist pulls out an old parchment, spreading it across the counter. "This," he taps the map, "is where you'll find what I need." He points first to the forest north of town.

  "Sretta grows along the edges of the forest-damp, shaded spots where the sunlight barely reaches. It won't be hard to find, but you'll need to check the undergrowth carefully."

  Then, his finger trails deeper into the forest- to a pteau marked with an ancient symbol.

  "And this," he taps firmly, "is where the Sunheart Cypress grow."

  Aria studies the mark. "A shrine?"The alchemist nods. "To Soltheris, the Sun Elven deity of travel and wisdom. The cypress trees there are sacred-you'll need to take the resin without damaging the tree."

  He looks up, his expression serious. "These are the st two ingredients I need. If I don't get them soon, my patient won't survive."

  Aria nods once. "I'll get them."

  The alchemist exhales slowly, relief flickering in his eyes. "Then you'd best leave at first light."

  Aria heads out from the alchemist's shop, and back towards the inn for the night.

  The inn's wooden door creaks open as Aria steps inside, the warm glow of nterns and a crackling hearth greeting her.

  The scent of roasted meat, spiced vegetables, and fresh bread lingers in the air, mixing with the low murmur of travelers and locals sharing drinks.

  She moves straight to the counter, where a stout dwarven innkeeper wipes down a mug.

  "Room for the night?" he asks, barely gncing up.

  "And a meal," Aria adds, setting a few coins on the counter.

  The dwarf nods, pocketing the payment.

  "Stew and ale do ya?" The dwarf asks.

  "That's fine." Aria replies.

  A short wait ter, Aria sits at a small wooden table, a bowl of thick venison stew and a mug of ale in front of her.

  She eats methodically, not rushing, but not lingering, either.

  By the time her bowl is empty, the room has grown quieter, most patrons retiring for the night.

  She stands, grabs her key, and heads upstairs.

  The rented room is small, but clean-a simple cot, a washbasin, and a shuttered window.

  Aria sets her pack beside the bed, and removes her weapons, and ys down without hesitation.

  Her eyes close, and sleep comes swiftly after.

  The next morning, Aria wakes up naturally before dawn. The air is still cool, the streets quiet, only a few early risers stirring. She gathers her things, checks her gear and supplies, then steps out into the crisp morning air. Her destination is clear. The forest awaits.

  Aria leaves Shadestar as the sun begins it's slow climb above the horizon, casting a soft golden light over the rolling pins. The road is a little more than a well-worn path, winding through tall grasses that sway in the morning breeze. A small stream cuts across her path, its clear waters glistening. She pauses just long enough to fill her fsk.

  As she nears the forest's edge, the ndscape shifts. The open pins give way to dense foliage-ancient trees with thick, twisting roots cwing their way through the earth. The air grows damp, heavy with the scent of earth, moss and decaying leaves. Aria slows her pace. She crouches near a patch of soft earth, scanning the faint tracks left behind. Deer. Rabbits. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Yet, there's a stillness to the forest-not unnatural, but telling. People don't come here often. Vines tangle from gnarled branches, thorns creep along the narrow, barely visible footpath, and thick undergrowth threatens to swallow the way forward. Aria exhales, adjusting her grip on her weapons, and takes her first step into the overgrown woods.

  The journey has truly begun.

  Aria moves quietly through the forest, stepping with the ease of someone who's walked untamed paths before. She doesn't rely on maps. Instead, she trusts her instincts, making mental notes of twisting tree roots, moss-covered stones, and the faint trickle of unseen water.

  The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the occasional rustling of unseen creatures. Then-she sees it. A patch of deep green leaves, serrated at the edges, clusters at the base of an ancient oak. Sretta.

  She kneels, fingers brushing the soft leaves, checking for the gold-tinged veins that confirm it's potency. Perfect. She pulls a small knife from her belt, careful not to damage the roots as she gathers what she needs.

  The moment is calm, almost peaceful-just the quiet rhythm of work. Once she has enough, she tucks the herbs safely into her pouch, rises, and scans the forest once more. One down. One to go. The Sunheart Cypress awaits.

  Aria moves with steady determination, her strides measured as she follows the faint path leading out of the dense forest. The trees begin to thin, and the air grows lighter, crisper.

  The transition from forest to pteau is a slow one-roots give way to rocky soil, damp earth dries into sun-warmed stone.

  She pauses at the edge of the tree line, taking in the path ahead. It's gentle, but long. Worn fgstones peek through the grass, remnants of an ancient road that once led pilgrims to the shrine. The path is cracked, half-cimed by nature, but still walkable.

  No signs of recent travelers. No footprints in the dirt. She presses on.

  By the time she reaches the top of the pteau, the sun is beginning to dip towards the horizon.

  The shrine stands before her, silent and abandoned. Once, it must have been beautiful. Now?

  The stone walls are weathered, edged softened by time. Vines creep along the cracked pilrs. A carved symbol of Soltheris is faded, barely visible above the entrance. The air feels.... different here. Not unsettling, but heavy with something ancient.

  And there-just beyond the shrine's entrance, bathed in the st rays of sunlight-stands a Sunheart Cypress.

  The tree is magnificent, golden resin gleaming along it's bark, the scent is warm and rich.

  She found it.

  Now, all that's left is to harvest what she needs.

  Aria approaches the Sunheart Cypress, running her hand along its smooth bark. The scent of warm, golden resin lingers in the air, rich and almost sacred.

  She's so close-but there's one problem. She has nothing to tap the tree with. Her dagger is too short-more suited for fighting or skinning an animal than this. Her sword and spear? Overkill. She grits her teeth, scanning the area.

  The shrine's remnants hold echoes of past visitors-pilgrims, monks, perhaps even alchemists who once gathered this same resin.

  Aria steps away from the trees, eyes searching.

  Near the entrance of the shrine, she spots an old offering bowl, half-buried in dust. Nearby, a cracked wooden staff, its length splintered but still sturdy.

  She kneels, inspecting it. The end is worn, but with a bit of improvisation. Using her dagger, she whittles one end of the staff into a crude tapping wedge.

  It's not perfect, but it will do.

  She returns to the Sunheart Cypress, carefully positioning the wedge before giving it a firm strike with a stone. For a moment, nothing happens.

  Then-a slow trickle of golden resin seeps from the wound. She waits, catching it in a small vial, patience honed from years of adventuring.

  By the time she's done, the st light of the day is fading. She has what she needs. Now, she just has to make it back.

  Aria steps back from the tree, tucking away the vial of Sunheart Cypress resin in her pouch. The st rays of sunlight cast long shadows across the ruined shrine, giving it an almost ethereal glow.

  She exhales, rolling her shoulders. She's not an idiot.

  Traveling at night through an overgrown forest-without clear paths and with the risk of twisting an ankle or worse-is a death sentence.

  Aria scouts the area for a good spot. The shrine itself is too exposed-if someone were watching from afar, they'd see her immediately. The base of the pteau just before the trees, is too damp and prone to insects. A small alcove, partially colpsed but still stable, sits off to the side of the shrine. It's not perfect, but it's shelter.

  She gathers a few loose stones, building a small fire pit, careful to keep it controlled-no need to accidentally set an ancient sacred site abze.

  A quick meal-dried meat, some hard bread, and water. Not great, but it'll do.

  As the fire crackles softly, she lets herself rex just a little.

  Sitting with her back against a cracked stone pilr, Aria's gaze drifts to the shrine's worn carvings.

  Depictions of pilgrims, travelers warriors seeking wisdom. She wonders how many had come before her, seeking the same blessing of safe passage under Soltheris' gaze.

  "Guess I'm just another fool walking the road," she mutters, tossing a twig into the fire.

  The forest is alive at night. The distant call of a night bird. The rustling of small creatures in the underbrush. The occasional snap of a branch-nothing close, but enough to keep her alert. But for now, this will do.

  Aria wakes up early, and heads out. Morning light filters through the trees, casting long streaks of gold and green as Aria moves swiftly but carefully through the forest. The cool air carries the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves.

  Then-a sound. A deep, rumbling growl. Aria's steps halt instantly as her instincts scream at her to stop moving. Just ahead, between the trees, something massive shifts.

  It stands at least twice as rge compared to a normal bear, it's muscur frame covered in thick, dark fur. But the most terrifying part isn't its size.

  It's the spikes.

  Jagged, bone-like protrusions jut from its forearms and back, their tips stained dark.

  Aria's hands instinctively drifts to her bow, but she doesn't draw it. Not yet.

  Before the creature's eyes meet hers, Aria shifts her weight slowly, keeping her steps silent.

  Her fingers brush against the bow at her back, unfastening it with careful precision. No sudden moves.

  She inhales, drawing an arrow from her quiver. Nocks it.

  The bowstring draws back smoothly, muscles steady despite the tension. She doesn't fire immediately. Instead, she watches. Waits.

  It huffs, turning its massive head, scanning the undergrowth.

  It hasn't seen her yet. But it senses something. The spikes on its arms twitch, like a wolf raising its hackles.

  Aria steadies her breath, her fingers tightening on the bowstring. She aims for the eye, lining up the shot with a hunter's precision.

  Exhale.

  She lets the arrow fly-

  A whisper of motion. A streak of death.

  The arrow whistles through the air, closing the gap in an instant.

  A sickening crack. The arrow sms into the creature's eye socket, piercing deep. For a moment, it stiffens, its entire body going rigid.

  Then- A horrible roar erupts from its throat. It stumbles. It's front limbs smming into the earth, gouging deep furrows into the dirt.

  Aria doesn't lower her bow yet. The creature shudders, its breathing ragged. Did she hit the brain-or just blind it in one eye.

  The massive beast colpses, it's huge frame shaking the forest floor. Twitching. Shuddering.

  It's breaths come in ragged, wheezing gasps, it's body struggling to move-but it's strength is fading fast.

  She knows better than to assume it's completely dead. Step by step, she moves closer, keeping her bow half-drawn, another arrow nocked and ready.

  The creature gives one st, violent twitch-then falls still. Silence settles over the forest.

  Aria waits. Listens. Watches. Only when she's sure it's truly dead does she let out a quiet breath, lowering her bow fully. That was too close. But the path home is clear now.

  Aria kneels beside the fallen beast, her knife already in hand. She examines it's massive body, searching for a suitable part to take-something light enough to carry, but valuable enough to prove her kill. Her eyes nd on one of the long, jagged spikes jutting from it's forearms. That'll do.

  She pces a steady hand on the creature's limb and begins sawing through the thick base of the spike.

  The flesh resists, but her knife is sharp, and with a bit of effort, the spike snaps free.

  She wipes the bde clean, then ties the spike to her pack before rising to her feet.

  One st gnce at the beast-then she turns, ready to make her way back to town.

  Ruby_Foxgirl