The evening sun poured golden light over the town of Velharest, a place filled with life far beyond its size. Unlike the dusty village the sisters called home, Velharest was the complete opposite—alive, vibrant, and purring with the chatter of Kin from every corner of the country, Zarion.
Kin: a name given to the many sentients who share and live in this world.
The streets were filled with a strange variety. Tall elven guards stood watch in cloaks threaded with metal and bearing the symbol of Zarion. Large Animalfolk argued loudly over the news. Small dwarves hammered steel into swords. A lion and a panther Kin napped lazily on the roof of a street vendor's stall, tails flicking idly.
The sisters walked cautiously through the crowd, Lyra keeping her eyes low but trying not to show fear. Around them, the world came alive.
"Crimson boar ribs! Crimson boar ribs!" shouted a voice to their left.
The girls turned and stopped in front of a butcher's stall occupied by a humanoid octopus Kin. With six arms working on the desk, he trimmed a thick slab of meat. A seventh waved to a customer, and the eighth pointed directly at the sisters.
"You two girls! What are you? Travellers? Students? Or worse—runaways?"
"No, no, no. We're from the east," Lyra replied quickly, gripping her sister tighter.
The butcher's eyes froze. "East? Damn. Dry land. Nothing but dust down there. Ever tasted red moon meat?"
He dangled a glistening strip their way. It shimmered unnaturally, covered in juice—almost as if it were alive.
"Does it always move?" the younger sister, Miya, asked.
"Only if it's fresh." He grinned, revealing rows of square teeth.
"That crimson boar was hunted three nights ago by a famous centaur Kin during a bloodstorm. She broke two legs doing it. This one—" he gestured to the meat, "—bit her arm off before she landed the final blow. Tsk."
The girls stared silently.
The butcher laughed. "You don't have to believe it. But once you try this meat, you'll swear you were born again."
He slapped down the meat and handed Lyra a wrapped piece of jerky. "On the house today. You've got kind eyes."
"Thank you," the sisters said as they walked to another vendor.
The scent of fresh herbs and sweetened earth welcomed them into a small vegetable shop tucked beside a gloomy pathway leading into shadow. It was quieter here, more peaceful than the butcher's. The shelves were neatly arranged with glistening vegetables, each stack carefully curated.
A soft chime rang as they entered.
"Ah, customers! Welcome," came a warm, lilting voice.
From behind a wooden counter wrapped in leaves stepped a tall elven woman. Her silver hair shone like a bright star draped over her shoulders. She wore a faded apron dusted green from herbs. When she looked at the girls, her face blossomed into something almost reverent.
"Oh my…" she whispered, eyes widening. "By the stars… look at you two."
The sisters glanced at each other.
"You're angels," the elf said, pointing gently toward Lyra. "Your presence… it's like standing before a blooming tree in early spring. There's beauty in your posture, grace in your steps… and your eyes—good heavens, they're like polished springglass. Like life just bloomed in front of me."
Lyra blushed slightly and gave a soft smile. "Um… thank you. We're just here for some vegetables and—"
"Vegetables can wait." She turned to Miya.
"And you—such a lovely soul. That smile could light up a room. And those eyes! Wide and full of wonder… Precious things. Rare things."
Miya giggled, hiding behind her sister.
"You're both absolutely beautiful," the elf said with a smile. "Surely you're used to people staring and trying to speak with you?"
"Not really," Lyra replied. "We don't think about it that much."
"See, that's what makes it real," the elf said gently. "In over two hundred years, I've only seen a few with a glow like yours. It's not just beauty—it's your bond."
She tilted her head, studying their faces with wonder. "If I were a painter, I'd ask to capture both of you."
Lyra chuckled. "I think you're exaggerating."
"I'm not. Why would I lie?" the elf said softly. "Some people shine because they were made to. Others have walked through darkness—and still choose to shine."
She tucked a bag of ingredients into their basket. "Free. May it remind you that someone saw your light today."
As they stepped outside, Miya whispered, "Do you think she meant it? And could the person she talked about be… that policeman?"
"Stop it," Lyra said. "I think she did mean it. Maybe she was right."
"You girls here for the Councillor's speech?" a dwarf Kin asked as they passed the end of the gloomy pathway. "Big one tonight. Rumor says he's talking about student selection."
The sisters paused.
"No, we just came for groceries," Lyra answered.
"You should check it out. Kids your age gather to see if they'll go to the capital—to the prestigious school where nobles and powerful students go."
"I might check it out later. Thanks," Lyra said as they walked down the dark path.
They turned a corner and passed a tall stone building. A metal plaque, dulled by time but unmistakable, read:
Velharest Adventurer's Guild
A crowd clustered near the entrance, drawn to a wall covered in notices. The sisters slowed, pulled in by the whispers.
A wanted poster flapped gently—yellowed edges, fresh red ink:
"Extremely Dangerous"
The image showed a hulking alligator Kin, his blackened scales marked by soot or rot. A jagged scar split his snout, and a mechanical chainsaw—caked in something brown—was fused to his right arm.
"By the Rift, man…" someone near the board whispered. "That's Council lab garb on his sleeve. You don't get that unless you're real deep in the pits."
"His chainsaw roars on its own," a younger voice added, trembling. "Even when he's not holding it. Like it's alive. One survivor said it screamed while chewing through her captain's neck. The worst part…"
"Ripped a Kin clean in half," an older woman muttered. "Didn't even swing. Just walked through him."
"He wasn't supposed to escape. He was let out," a grizzled dwarf growled. "Released like a damn hound. Council lost control. Now they're cleaning up their own damn mess."
A thick, uneasy silence settled.
"Why's he still wearing the coat?" someone asked.
"He never took it off. Fused to his flesh now. Burned in," another murmured.
"I saw a picture from the river attack," rasped a veteran with a black eyepatch. "Bodies weren't just cut. They were mangled. Like someone enjoyed it. One corpse had its heart replaced with a fucking gear."
"Maker's mercy…"
"No mercy left. That thing ain't rogue. It was made. That bitch is a weapon."
A woman leaned in close to the sisters, eyes frantic. "The symbol on his coat isn't Council. It's old. Buried project. Forbidden level. Black Zone. One scribe found documents about it… next day? Gone. House burned. Family vanished. The whole fucking lot."
"Shut your damn mouth!" a tall man snapped. "You want to disappear too? Keep talking like that. See how long you breathe, you bitch."
The crowd shifted, fear rippling through them. The sisters stood still, hearts pounding.
Lyra stared at the poster—at the Kin's cold glare, his crude metal, the dried bloodstains.
"Come on," she said softly.
Miya didn't argue. They slipped away, the murmurs fading like echoes in a crypt.
They walked in silence.
The streets widened. Laughter returned, lighter and warmer. Guards in plated armor patrolled with polished spears.
Finally, Miya spoke. "…What if that thing came from a place like the lab?"
"I thought about that too," Lyra admitted, her voice low.
"Do you think the Council really made him? That son of a bitch?"
Lyra glanced toward the towering spire ahead—Velharest's heart, where the Magic Council would soon speak.
Her voice was barely a breath. "I don't know… but we're about to find out."