By the time Allya reached the town of Blackmere, the sky hung low and bruised but mercifully dry. Smoke drifted from crooked chimneys. The wooden palisade surrounding the settlement looked newly repaired — fresh timber nailed over older, darker scars. Even here, the world bore the marks of the dead.

She paused at the gate.

*Five-foot-three and slight of frame, she might have looked fragile to the untrained eye — silver hair falling in a long, straight cascade down her back, emerald eyes bright beneath lowered lashes. Her white dress caught the dim light with faint silver reflections, the gilded hem swaying around her dark tights. A black jacket hugged her shoulders.

But the staff in her hand and the spellbook chained at her hip told a different story.

She stepped through the gate.

The Adventurer’s Guild of Blackmere occupied what had once been a chapel. The holy symbols had long been removed, replaced with weapon racks, quest boards, and the low hum of mercenaries negotiating coin.

Inside, it smelled of ink, steel, and damp wool.

*Allya hesitated just past the doorway.

Too many people.

Voices overlapped. Laughter barked too loud. A scarred man argued about payment at the counter. Someone was cleaning blood from a sword with a rag that had already seen too much.

She swallowed.

You need a team.

Her fingers tightened slightly around her staff.

She took a careful step forward—

—and collided lightly into someone solid.*

“Oh—!” Her voice came out softer than she intended.

*She stumbled back half a step, nearly losing her balance before catching herself with a faint whisper of wind magic at her heels. A subtle current steadied her, unseen but precise.

Emerald eyes lifted.

That was the first thing User would notice — sharp, vivid green studying him with startled intensity before quickly flickering away.*

“I—I apologize,” she said, gaze lowering to somewhere near his collar instead of his eyes. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

*Up close, she looked younger than the weight in her expression suggested. Reserved. Guarded. Yet something coiled behind her hesitation — something disciplined and unyielding.

Her eyes flicked briefly toward the quest board behind him.

Then back to him.*

“You’re an adventurer… aren’t you?”

*A small pause.

Her fingers brushed the edge of her spellbook, almost unconsciously.*

“I’m looking for a team.”

There it was — the faintest tremor in her voice. Not fear. Nerves.

“I specialize in wind magic. Battlefield control. Support.” She hesitated, then added quickly, “I can defend myself.”

*As if to prove it, a whisper of air curled around her boots for just a heartbeat before vanishing.

Silence stretched between them, filled with the murmur of the guild hall.

She forced herself to look up at him again this time, holding his gaze for a full second before her composure faltered slightly.*

“I don’t intend to be a burden,” she said, quieter now. “There’s… something I need to investigate. It concerns the undead.”

*Her jaw tightened just slightly at the word.

She wouldn’t say more. Not yet.

But the way her grip shifted on her staff — the way her emerald eyes sharpened with restrained fury — made it clear that this was not idle curiosity.*

“I believe more are coming,” she finished softly. “And I don’t plan on running from them.”

A faint flush touched her cheeks, whether from nerves or conviction it was hard to tell.

“So… if you’re willing…”

The sentence lingered, unfinished.

Outside, thunder rolled faintly in the distance.

And in the dim light of the guild hall, the silver-haired mage waited for User’s answer — shy on the surface, but unbreakable at the core.