The eastern gate loomed before us, its ancient stones painted gold by the afternoon sun. Once a bastion against ancient invaders, it now stood as a symbol of resilience and transition, marking the boundary between the bustling marketplace and the untamed wilds beyond. For me, it represented both an entrance to new adventures and an exit from the comfort of familiarity. The gate seemed to hum with the weight of countless journeys that had passed through it, whispering promises of the unknown. My silk dress rustled against the cobblestones - a sound that was quickly becoming familiar, if not exactly welcome. The scents of the marketplace behind us lingered in the air, a mixture of spiced meats, fresh bread, and the earthy tang of leather goods. The world felt alive, vibrant, yet tinged with the bittersweet knowledge of my imminent departure.
"Before we start," I said, the weight of unsaid words heavy in my chest, "there's something I need to tell you." Her expression shifted, catching the serious note in my voice. "I'm leaving for Silvercrest. In five days."
The silence that followed felt endless. "Five days?" she finally managed. "But I thought..." She trailed off, her usual confidence faltering.
"So did I," I admitted. "But I have been assigned a mission that can't wait."
She studied me for a moment, something unreadable in her eyes. "Well then," she said finally, "we better make these five days count." Her smile returned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Starting with seeing if you can track anything in that dress."
"Actually," I said, feeling suddenly bold, "there's something I've been wanting to show you. And... I'd like to invite you to my farewell gathering at the tavern in three nights." Her eyes caught mine, and I hurried on before courage failed me. "I thought maybe I could give you a preview of what a bard's magic really feels like."
Without waiting for her answer, after she joined my party, I began to sing.
You sing Dash of the Daring!
Swift as thought and light as air,
We leave our fears without a care,
In this moment, wild and free,
We are the legends we were born to be.
The magic rippled outward like rings in a pond, catching us both in its embrace. Her eyes widened as the enchantment took hold, a soft gasp eluding her lips as the enhanced speed coursed through her veins. Around us, the subtle hum of magic lingered, weaving a connection between us and the world around.
"By the gods," she breathed, watching her own hands as if seeing them anew. "Is this how it always feels?"
"Better with company," I grinned, enjoying her wonder. "Care to race to the forest line? For once, we'll be equally matched."
"Show me what you've got, bard," she challenged, her smile bright with delight and something more. "Though don't think this makes up for leaving in five days."
"No," I agreed softly, "but maybe it's a start."
The forest line beckoned, and together we flew across the practice field, purple silk streaming behind me like a banner, our laughter harmonizing with the song's magic. The field seemed endless; the world blurring as we dashed forward, each step a heartbeat in time.
The forest whispered its afternoon secrets as I followed Elara through a maze of dew-kissed undergrowth. She moved with that fluid grace that made every step seem like part of an intricate dance, while I tried not to trip over the increasingly suspicious number of roots in my path - a challenge made significantly more interesting by yards of purple silk... Above, birds called to one another, their melodies intertwining with the rustling leaves.
"Here," she said, crouching by a patch of disturbed earth. "What do you notice?"
I knelt beside her, studying the ground with newfound attention. "These marks... some kind of enormous cat?"
"Good." Her approval warmed something in my chest. "But what kind?"
"The prints are bigger than a normal mountain cat." I traced the air above a clear impression. "And there's this strange crystalline residue..."
"Frost Leopard," she confirmed. "Rare this far south. They usually stay in the lofty peaks."
She reached into her pouch and produced what looked like dried berries. "Here. These will help sharpen your senses - you're supposed to smell them to understand the creature's diet."
Blindly, I popped them in my mouth. The taste was... earthy. Complex. Strangely familiar. And then I saw her expression - that familiar gleam of mischief transforming into barely contained laughter.
"Those were Frost Leopard droppings."
The world stopped. Time itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for my brain to process what my taste buds already knew. The forest seemed to hold its collective breath, amplifying my mortification.
"They're WHAT?"
Her laughter exploded through the trees as she sprang to her feet, already moving. "I said SMELL them! Every ranger needs to understand their quarry's diet by scent!" Her voice carried back through the branches, equal parts amusement and disbelief. "Who just EATS mysterious berries a ranger hands them?"
I could hear her wheezing with laughter as she ran. "This is going in my teaching journal - 'Day Three: Student ate predator droppings. Must work on basic survival instincts.'"
"I'm going to kiss you for this!" I shouted, then realizing what I'd said, quickly amended, "KILL! I meant kill!"
"Have to catch me first, bard, and no song!" Her voice carried back through the forest, tinged with something that might have been hope.
I gave chase, following her trail through the morning mist. Each sign began revealing itself just as she'd taught me - a disturbed branch here, a turned leaf there. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath, watching us dance through ancient boughs. The cool earth beneath my feet grounded me as I pushed forward, the chase transforming into something more intimate.
She led me on a merry chase, always just ahead, her laughter mixing with birdsong. When I finally caught up, she was leaning against a massive oak, the afternoon light filtering through the leaves to paint her face with golden patterns.
"You're getting better," she observed, making no move to escape as I approached. "Though your threat assessment needs work."
"Threat assessment?"
"Mhm." Her eyes met mine, challenging. "Kiss or kill - that's quite a range of options."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Heat crept up my neck. "I, uh..."
"Though I suppose," she continued, taking a step closer, "one might be considerably more pleasant than the other."
The morning air crackled with possibility. She was close enough now that I could see flecks of gold in her green eyes, count each freckle dusting her nose. My heart performed a complicated drumroll against my ribs.
A branch snapped somewhere in the forest. We jumped apart like startled deer; the moment shattering.
"Right!" Her voice was slightly higher than usual. "Back to tracking. There's a Whisperwind Elk herd that passed through here last night. Let's see if you can follow their trail without eating anything suspicious."
As we resumed our lesson, I caught her stealing glances when she thought I wasn't looking. Each one felt like a verse in a song I was just beginning to learn. The rhythm of our steps, the silent exchanges, and the way the forest seemed to hold us in its embrace made the afternoon feel timeless.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of tracking signs and unspoken possibilities. If our hands brushed more often than strictly necessary while examining tracks, well... that was just part of the training. Her laughter, genuine and unguarded, became my favourite melody of the day.
Still, I made a mental note to actually listen to instructions before acting. After all, a tracker needs to observe first and leap to conclusions never - a lesson I'd learned today in the most humbling way possible.
Training Summary - Tracking:
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Skill Progress: Rare creature tracked (3/5)
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New Techniques Learned:
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Predator sign identification
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What NOT to put in your mouth
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Advanced dress management in forest terrain
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Equipment Status:
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1 purple silk dress (surprisingly resilient)
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1 bruised ego
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Several traumatized taste buds
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Lessons Learned:
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Eat nothing a ranger hands you
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Five days isn't nearly enough time
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Purple silk shows dirt remarkably well
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Personal Notes:
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Figure out how to tell her how I feel before leaving
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Research mouth-cleaning techniques
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Consider inventing time-slowing song
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The kitchen's familiar warmth wrapped around us as we scrubbed pots, falling into the peaceful rhythm we'd developed over these past few days. Elara had insisted on joining me again, claiming she enjoyed the company, though I noticed she avoided the worst of the cleaning somehow.
"You know," she said, passing me another pot, "you still haven't told me how you ended up becoming a bard."
I paused, the rag stilling in my hands. The weight of the truth pressed against my chest - a song demanding to be sung. "That's... complicated." I took a deep breath. "I'm not from here, Elara. Not just from another city or kingdom. I'm from another world entirely."
The pot she was holding froze mid-scrub. "What do you mean?"
"A month ago, I was home with my family. Different world, different rules - no magic, no System, no levels or skills." The words tumbled out now, like a dam breaking. "Then I woke up here, in Lyserion. With these abilities, this magic, I'm still trying to understand."
She set the pot down carefully, her eyes never leaving my face. "Your family..."
"I had to leave them behind," I said softly, the memory still raw. "Our world was dying. Everything was falling apart. There was an attack on my home. We got separated, then I heard of a portal, a chance to escape, but..." I swallowed hard. "I don't know if they made it to another portal in time. If they even had the chance. I just know I had to jump, or everything would have been lost."
Elara's hand found mine, warm and steady. "We received word about outworlders arriving," she said quietly. "That some world was... ending. But you're the first I've actually met." Her fingers tightened around mine. "I can't imagine having to make that choice. To leave everything behind, not knowing..."
Silence filled the space between us, broken only by the distant sounds of the kitchen. Then, unexpectedly, Elara laughed - a gentle sound with no mockery in it.
"Well," she said, "that explains a lot. Like why you tried to eat those berries earlier."
"I suppose I still have a lot to learn about this world," I admitted with a rueful smile. Her laughter joined mine, filling the space with warmth.
"Since you shared something so personal," she said, fidgeting with the pot in her hands, "I have something to tell you too." There was that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes - the one I'd seen so often lately. "Though I probably should have told you sooner, if only to see your face during those first training sessions."
"What is it?"
"Jay's my father."
The pot I was holding slipped from my fingers, clattering loudly against the sink. "He's your... but... how did I not..." My mind raced back through every interaction, suddenly seeing the similarities - the way they both moved with that predatory grace, their shared love of elaborate setups, those identical gleams of mischief in their eyes.
"I wanted to surprise you later when he arrived here," she grinned, clearly enjoying my shock. "When father told me about his new student who turned kitchen duty into performance art, I couldn't resist. Especially when he mentioned your tendency to get tangled up in the most elaborate situations."
"That's why your training methods felt so familiar," I groaned. "The brambles, the conveniently placed roots, the perfectly timed branch snaps..."
"Family tradition," she said proudly. "Though I have to say, you've provided some uniquely entertaining moments. Father's been taking notes for future students."
"Wonderful," I muttered. "I've become a teaching aid."
"More like a family legend," she laughed. "The bread incident alone earned you a special place in our stories."
I grinned, checking that the coast was clear. "My lady," I said with a theatrical bow that made her smile, "would you trust me with an adventure tonight?" At her questioning look, I nodded toward my already-cleaned stack of pots. "The cooks owed me a favour - something about saving their prized sourdough starter from last week's chaos."
You sing Whispers of the Unseen!
Moonlight's touch cannot reveal,
What magic's veil has chose to seal,
In plain sight, yet out of view,
We pass unseen, our purpose true.
Her eyes widened as we faded from view. "Sneaking out?" she whispered, excitement coloring her voice. "And here I thought rangers were supposed to be the responsible ones."
"Trust me?" I asked, offering my invisible hand.
We slipped past the gate guards like ghosts, their conversation about proper beard maintenance never faltering. Once clear, I let the invisibility fade and began a new song.
You sing Dash of the Daring!
The familiar surge of speed took us both, and I led her toward the steep hill I'd scouted earlier. At its base, I paused, seeing her eyebrow raise at the sheer cliff face.
You sing Mountain's Embrace!
Higher now through mist and cloud,
Silent steps, we're spirit proud.
Every reach brings us more near,
While the mountain holds us dear.
Magical handholds appeared in the rock face, glowing softly in the gathering dusk. "My lady," I said with an exaggerated bow, "your path awaits."
Despite my suspicions that Elara was letting me take the lead, the climb was less challenging than expected. We were greeted by a stunning view from the small cave opening; the lights of Haven's Cross twinkling below in the growing darkness. Below, the city's scale highlighted its power and fragility.
"You keep surprising me," she said softly, her eyes still bright with wonder. "First you make us invisible to sneak past the guards, then you give us incredible speed, and now you create magical handholds in solid rock?" She shook her head in amazement. "I've heard tales of bard magic, and this is not it..." She turned to me, moonlight catching her smile. "It's like you're rewriting what's possible, one song at a time."
The awe in her voice made my heart skip. For all her teasing and playful torments during training, seeing her genuinely amazed by my magic felt like its own kind of enchantment. The connection between us grew. The silence shared in that space, saying more than words ever could.
From my bottomless satchel, I produced a tablecloth, laying it out with a flourish. Wine, bread still warm from the kitchen, cheese, and fresh fruit followed. Her laugh at my preparations warmed something deep in my chest.
"You've been planning this," she accused softly, helping me arrange the impromptu feast.
"Maybe," I admitted, pouring the wine. "Though I didn't plan on having only five days."
We sat close, sharing food and stories as stars began appearing above us. The night air carried a gentle chill, giving me the perfect excuse to move closer. Her head found my shoulder, fitting there as if it had always belonged. The world below became a backdrop to this moment, its importance dimmed by the presence beside me.
"I wish..." she started, then stopped.
"I know," I said softly, understanding all she hadn't said.
When she turned to look up at me, starlight catching in her eyes, the moment felt inevitable as gravity. The kiss was gentle, tentative at first, then deepening like a song finding its chorus. Her fingers tangled in my hair as mine traced patterns on her back, and for a perfect moment, the rest of the world fell away. The stars seemed to shine brighter, as if celebrating the melody we had found together.
When we finally parted, her smile held a hint of mischief. "You taste much better than those berries from earlier."
"I should hope so," I laughed, pulling her close again. "Given what they turned out to be."
We stayed there, wrapped in each other and starlight, trying not to count the days we had left. Below us, Haven's Cross glowed like a constellation brought to earth, its lights a reminder of how little time remained before duty would call me away. The bittersweet ache of the impending farewell only sharpened the sweetness of this fleeting night.
But for now, there was just this - her warmth against me, the stars above, and the sweet ache of a melody just beginning, even as we knew the final notes approached too quickly.