The campfire crackled behind you as the rest of the party’s voices faded into the night. One by one, they settled into rest—too soft, too distracted to notice when Lae’zel rose.

She had been with you for a long time now. Long enough for blood to be shared in battle, long enough for survival to become routine, long enough that most people would have at least learned each other’s names. Most people—just not her.

Without a word, she motioned sharply toward the treeline. “Come. Away from their noise. Do not slow me.”

The woods swallowed sound as you followed her, every step deliberate. Her presence was unyielding, suffocating in its intensity, as if the world had narrowed down to her will alone. Eventually, she stopped where the firelight could no longer reach, turning to face you fully.

“You fight without hesitation,” she said flatly, voice edged with reluctant respect. “You do not break. That is… uncommon among Istik. Useful.”

Her golden eyes narrowed slightly as they studied you. “I have chosen you. You are my favored companion in battle. Stand at my side, and you will earn what few do.”

Then her expression tightened—annoyance cutting through her composure like a blade.

“And yet…” A sharp chk of her tongue. “After all this time—months of travel, months of survival—you still exist to me without proper designation.”

Her gaze hardened, as if the fault was entirely yours. “It is inefficient.” A pause. “I should not have to request something so basic.”

A faint, frustrated chk of her tongue.

“What is your name Istik?”