The city of Thalindor was a creature of two natures.
By day, it was a bustling hub of commerce and culture, its cobblestone streets thronged with merchants, artisans, and wide-eyed visitors from distant lands. The sun glittered on the windows of its churches, and the air was filled with the clamour of life, the clang of a blacksmith's hammer, the cries of street vendors, the laughter of children playing in the fountains of the Grand Plaza.
But by night, the city changed. It became a place of secrets and shadows, where the true heart of its people beat in taverns and behind closed doors.
It was in this nighttime that Liora Valen found her element. Perched on the rain-slicked tiles of the Adventurer's Guild roof, she watched the city breathe below, a tapestry of flickering mana-powered lamplight and moving silhouettes.
Her dreams, vast and untamed as the wildlands beyond the city walls, felt claustrophobic down there. Up here, they could stretch out, fill the sky, and touch the stars.
The sword at her hip—a well-balanced blade named 'Whisper' she'd bought with her life savings—felt heavy not with steel, but with unfulfilled promise. Her grandfather's journal, tucked safely in her satchel, was filled with tales of krakens in the Sunken Sea and cities carved from the heart of sleeping volcanoes.
Liora knew every word by heart. She could recite the story of how he'd single-handedly negotiated a truce between the Stonekin tribes of the Grey Mountains and the Sky-Sailors of the floating isle of Aeridor.
His adventures felt like myths from another age. These days, the Guild's most exciting commission was retrieving a lost cat from the sewers or clearing giant rats from a baker's cellar. The great ruins were all charted, the great beasts all slain, the great mysteries all solved. Or so everyone believed.
"My adventures," she sighed to the two moons at the window, "are dead."
Her gloom deepened as she made her way down, jumping off the tiles to another, as she skillfully and carefully descended the roof to the street without anyone noticing.
She walked away from the guild and wandered further beyond the street until she saw a tavern sign, a rusty iron cutout of a flaming hearth, swinging lazily in the damp night air.
The Rusty Hearth. Home, for now.
The familiar warmth of the place washed over her as she pushed through the heavy oak door. The air was thick with the smell of roasting meat, split ale, and old wood smoke. A low murmur of conversation filled the room, punctuated by the occasional roar of laughter or the clatter of wooden tankards. In the corner, a bard with a mournful expression was coaxing a weeping tune from a lute that had seen better decades.
"There you are, Liora," a gruff but warm voice called from behind the bar. Mama Marie, a woman with arms like a ship's ropes and a smile that could outshine the noon sun, was wiping down a counter with practised efficiency. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms dusted with flour and faint scars.
"Hey, Mama Marine", Liora said, sliding onto a stool. Her usual cheerful energy was absent, replaced by a quiet melancholy that even the tavern's warmth couldn't chase away. "Just the usual. And some news, I suppose."
Mama Marine paused her wiping, her hazel-blue eyes softening with concern. "The usual, coming right up. But if the news is making you look like a drowned kitten, I might need to add a splash of honey to it. Spill it, girl. What's got the adventurer-in-training looking like she's just seen her favourite map get eaten by termites?"
Liora sighed, poking at a knot in the wooden bar.
"It's nothing new. Just... the same nothing, again. The Guild master, old man Whitby, gave me another commission. Clearing giant spiders out of the sewers beneath the weaver's district."
She grimaced.
"Again. Apparently, they're 'aggressive this season'. I feel like I'm fighting the same three spiders over and over. They probably know my sword's name by now."
Mama Marie let out a short, sympathetic laugh and placed a stew bowl of hearty stew in front of Liora, along with a hunk of dark bread.
"Spiders don't live forever, Li. You're just keeping the population down for the next brave soul who dreams of glory." She leaned forward, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "Listen, every great adventurer started somewhere. Your grandfather didn't wake up one day and wrestle a kraken. I bet he started by chasing rats out of a pantry."
Liora managed a small smile, dipping the bread into the stew. "I know. It's just... I feel like I'm stuck. The world feels so... small. I look at the stars, and I feel like there's this whole world of stories happening out there, and I'm here, mapping sewer tunnels and doing low-ranked jobs until they can rank me up one day."
She took a bite of stew, the rich flavour a small comfort. "I just want... more. You know?"
Mama Marie's expression turned thoughtful. She wiped her hands on her apron and nodded slowly.
"I do. More than you think." Her gaze drifted to the tavern door, as if she could see beyond it, into the past.
"My husband... he was a knight. Not a famous one, not like your grandfather. But he had a dream, too. To protect people. To make a difference. He died for that dream."
She looked back at Liora, her eyes shimmering with a depth of emotion that always surprised Liora.
"And you know what? His death didn't make the world a better place. It just made it a world without him in it. Be careful what you wish for, Liora. Sometimes 'more' comes with a price you're not ready to pay."
Liora looked down at her stew, the familiar warmth of the tavern suddenly feeling a little less comforting. She knew the older woman was only trying to protect her, but it felt like another chain, another reason to stay put. To stay small.
"I know," she said again, but this time her voice was quieter. "I'll be careful."
Mama Marie studied her for a moment, then nodded, her usual cheerful demeanour returning as if it had never left.
"Good. Now finish your stew. You've got tomorrow's shift here around noon." Marie turned away, her attention drawn to a new customer who had just stumbled in, shaking water from his cloak.
Liora ate in silence, the tavern's noise fading into a dull hum in the background. She thought about her grandfather's journal, about the faded maps and fantastical creatures, about the thrill and danger that seemed so far away.
'A real adventure…' she thought, 'Is that too much to ask for?'
"Liora Valen!" A familiar female voice shouted from the entrance, snapping her out of her thoughts. "My errand girl!"
Liora's head snapped up; her mood grew even more sour by that nickname.
Standing there, framed by the doorway, was a young woman with hair the colour of spun gold, dressed in a tailored blue coat that probably cost more than Liora made in a year. It was Seraphina, a member of the esteemed Golden Feather party, one of the city's top-ranked adventurer groups.
'Oh, great,' Liora thought with bitterness.
Seraphina swept into the tavern, her boots clicking on the stone floor. She ignored the greetings from the other patrons and made a beeline for Liora, her nose slightly wrinkled as if she smelled something unpleasant.
"I've been looking all over for you as soon as I got back into town. Did you get the components I asked for?"
Liora sighed, her appetite gone. She pushed her bowl away. "I got them a few days back. They're in my bag." She unslung her satchel and placed a small, carefully wrapped parcel on the bar. "Rare silverleaf, ground moonpetal, and a single flask of distilled water from the Elmswood spring. Exactly as you asked." Her tone was flat, a stark contrast to Seraphina's bright, demanding energy.
Seraphina's smile was all teeth, no warmth. She snatched the parcel, unwrapping it with quick, practised fingers. She inspected the contents, her expression critical.
"Hmm. The moonpetal could be finer. And this water... are you sure it's from the right spring?" She sniffed the flask disdainfully. "Whatever. We're paying you, so I suppose it will have to do."
Liora's hands tightened into fists under the table. It was always like this. The Golden Feather party treated her like a delivery girl, a convenient errand runner for their 'important' work. They never let her join them on their adventures, claiming she was "too inexperienced," but they had no problem sending her on dangerous solo missions to fetch rare ingredients from monster-infested forests.
"The Guild master said the pay is twenty gold pieces," Liora said, her voice steady despite the anger simmering in her chest. "The standard rate for alchemical components of this rarity."
Seraphina laughed, a light, tinkling sound that grated on Liora's nerves. "Oh, you sweet summer child. That's the standard rate. For *us, the pay is five gold. We'll give you three, since you're... you."
"Wha-...That's not fair," Liora said, her frustration bubbling over. "I risked my life for those moonpetals. The grove is guarded by those bark-creatures we talked about. I had to fight my way through three of them."
Seraphina rolled her eyes. "Bark-creatures? Don't be so dramatic. They're barely animated trees. And besides, you should be grateful for the experience. Consider the three gold a lesson in how the real world really works."
Liora's jaw tightened. She hated this. Hated being looked down on, hated being treated like a clueless novice. She wasn't afraid of a fight, but she wasn't stupid enough to start one in the middle of the Rusty Hearth. She knew she'd lose, and it would only prove Seraphina's point.
She opened her mouth to argue, to say something, anything, but then she saw Mama Marine standing behind the bar, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable. The older woman gave a subtle shake of her head, a clear signal to let it go.
Liora let out a slow breath, the fight draining out of her. "Fine," she said, her voice low. "Three gold it is."
Seraphina smirked, her victory assured. She tossed three small, tarnished coins onto the bar. "Pleasure doing business with you." She turned and swept out of the tavern at the back door, her blue coat billowing behind her, leaving Liora feeling small, cheap, and defeated.
Mama Marine walked over and put a comforting hand on Liora's shoulder. "Don't let her get to you, Li," she said softly. "People like that, they build themselves up by tearing others down. It's the only way they can feel tall."
Liora nodded, her eyes fixed on the three coins. "I know. It's just... frustrating."
She picked up the coins and shoved them into her pocket, the metal cold against her skin.
"I'm not going to get anywhere like this. I'm never going to have a real adventure if I'm stuck being everyone's errand girl." She stood up abruptly, her stool scraping against the wooden floor. "I need some air. I'll be back for work tomorrow."
"Wait! Liora! Your stew!" Mama Marine called after her, but Liora was already out the door, the night air a welcome shock against her hot cheeks.
***
She walked with no destination in mind, her feet carrying her through the quiet streets of the sleeping city. The anger had faded, replaced by a hollow ache of disappointment. She found herself climbing a narrow path which led towards the hills which overlooked the city, a place she often went to think. From here, she could see all of Thalindor, a sea of sleeping roofs and twinkling lights under the vast, star-dusted sky.
She looked up at the night sky, her grandfather's words echoing in her mind.
'The world is full of stories, Liora. You just have to be brave enough to go find them.'
"I'm trying," she whispered. "I really am. But it's not enough. It's never enough." She closed her eyes, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "I'm sorry...I've been a failure to you."
Suddenly, a bright flash of light catches her attention, a streak of white-hot fire that blazes across the sky, far brighter than any star. It was so intense that it cast shadows across the hillside. Liora's breath hitched in her throat. A shooting star. A big one.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a wild, desperate hope rising in her chest. This was it. A sign. An answer to her silent prayer. She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles turned white.
'Please,' she thought, her mind racing. 'Please, let it be a real adventure. Let me find something. Let me find someone who needs help. Let me do something that matters. Just once.'
When she opened her eyes, the star looked to be coming closer. No, not closer. It was falling. Directly towards her.
"Oh, no," she gasped. "Oh, no, no, no."
*CRASH!!!*
The impact was earth-shattering.
The ground trembled violently, throwing Liora off her feet. She landed hard, the air knocked from her lungs. A deafening roar echoed through the hills, followed by a rain of dirt and pebbles. A plume of dust and smoke rose into the night sky, blotting out the stars.
For a moment, Liora just lay there, her ears ringing, her body aching. She had survived. That was a start. She pushed herself up, her sword clattering against the stones. Her mind, usually so full of grand adventures, was now filled with a single, terrifying thought: what had just fallen from the sky?
Curiosity, that old, familiar friend, won out over fear. She had to know. She stumbled towards the source of the impact, her heart pounding with a mixture of terror and excitement. The path was torn up, the grass and earth scorched and blackened.
As she got closer, she saw it. A crater. A perfect, smoking bowl carved into the hillside. And in the centre of it all, a figure.
A man.