The meadow stayed quiet. The rock walls cradled them in stillness. Even the forest behind seemed to hold its breath.
And the sun rose.
It climbed slowly, casting gold over the tops of the crooked trees, soft light filtering through the thin leaves and dappling the ground at their feet.
By the time the sun crested overhead, they hadn't stirred. Not once.
Not until the first sound.
It was faint at first — barely a whisper in the distance. A low rustle. A soft break in the stillness, like grass being parted or leaves brushed aside by something careful.
Then another sound followed.
A rhythmic, almost loping step — not quite heavy, but not light enough to be wind. Deliberate. Cautious. Close.
Talo's eyes snapped open. His hand was already on his staff.
Across from him, Rasha stirred, her hand sliding to the hilt of Yang without hesitation. She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
They both heard it now.
Something — or someone — was approaching from the meadow.
They shifted into fighting stances — fluid, practiced, ready. Talo angled his staff slightly forward, feet planted and steady. Rasha's grip tightened on Yin and Yang, the curve of her blades catching a sliver of light as her muscles coiled.
The rustling deepened. Bushes stirred. Footsteps hesitated just beyond the clearing.
Then — a voice.
Small. Clear. Certain.
"I think this is it, right here."
The brush parted.
And standing between the branches was a little girl.
Barefoot. Dirt-smudged. Hair tangled in soft knots. Her eyes — wide and alight — didn't glow with magic, but something else entirely.
Joy.
She stepped into the open without hesitation, her face radiant as she locked eyes with Rasha.
"Mommy! Daddy! I found you!"
The words hung in the air like a spell.
Rasha froze.
Talo's brow furrowed, staff steady but forgotten in his grip.
The girl beamed, taking another step forward, arms thrown wide like she expected to be swept up.
"I saw you following my trail last night," she continued, her voice bright with pride, "but then you never met me. So I waited and waited… but now you're here!"
Rasha's lips parted, stunned — but before she could speak, Talo found his voice.
"You saw us?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "You were watching us?"
His gaze swept over her, taking in the details with quiet precision: the pouches along her belt stuffed with dried herbs and wild roots, the tiny glass vials clinking softly as she moved.
A small dagger — too small for combat, too sharp to be just decoration — was tucked into her belt, no sheath, just wrapped in a twist of cloth.
She laughed — a cheerful, unbothered sound.
"No, silly. The pictures in my head."
Before either of them could respond, a rustle to the side snapped their attention away.
The bushes behind the girl shifted again.
Both Rasha and Talo leaned instinctively — one left, one right — blades and staff still at the ready.
And what emerged made them both pause.
A Dread Stalker pup — the same one from the night before, the one that had watched in silence as its entire pack was torn apart — padded up beside the girl.
It crawled low to the ground, tail tucked slightly — but not out of fear.
Its eyes were locked on the girl's back, and when it reached her, it pressed its head gently to her side, purring.
The sound wasn't innocent.
It was guttural. Ferocious.
A sound no wild predator should make — and yet, it was unmistakably a purr. Twisted. Protective.
The girl smiled down at it and scratched between its ears like it was no more dangerous than a barn cat.
"It's okay," she said without looking up. "He doesn't bite anymore. He's mine now."
Rasha's throat worked around a dry breath. Her heart thudded against her ribs.
Talo said nothing, but the tension in his stance hadn't left.
The little girl tilted her head, squinting up at them like she was piecing together something only she could see.
Her smile widened again.
"I finally found you."
The meadow, the cliffs, the blood-drenched memories of the night before — all of it seemed to still around those four words.
Talo ignored the word Daddy.
His eyes stayed on the girl — not with suspicion now, but with something slower, heavier.
"You're the one they were looking for," he said quietly. "The girl. The one who survived here alone."
He took a small step forward, staff angled low.
"You've lived here a long time, haven't you? You know this place. The Forsaken Realm."
The girl nodded happily, as if that much was obvious.
"Then why not just run?" he asked. "Why not leave? Those mercenaries… they don't care about you. Why not get as far from them as you can?"
She tilted her head, as if the answer were so simple it hardly needed saying.
"I didn't come back to stay here," she said brightly. "I only came back to find you two."
She turned toward Rasha and Talo both, her voice light but sure.
"And we can't leave yet."
That last part made Rasha's brow crease.
"Why not?"
The girl turned to her, eyes bright, and pointed at Talo — not at his face, but lower. At the weapon in his hand.
"You haven't found it yet."
Talo frowned, confused.
"Found what?"
She blinked at him like he was the one forgetting something obvious.