The morning mist clung to the leaves like ghostly lace, draping the forest trail in a veil of silver. Birds with sapphire wings chirped from the canopy above, and tiny beasts with too many eyes scattered at their passing.
Lavender walked ahead, the long hem of her lavender coat collecting dew and fallen petals, her totem swinging gently at her hip like a lullaby made solid. Vashir trailed beside her-quiet, composed, ever watchful.
The town had vanished behind them, swallowed by trees and distance. Ahead, the world stretched like an unopened book, and Lavender's fingers itched to turn its pages.
But something gnawed at her curiosity-something older than a map and deeper than any artifact.
She slowed her pace until Vashir matched her stride.
"Vashir," she said, her voice light as drifting thistle, "why are you following me?"
He blinked once. "Because you walk forward."
Lavender's eyes narrowed. "Don't be clever with me, serpent."
He offered a faint smile. "Too late."
They continued in silence for a few more paces, the tension between them soft, almost playful.
"Are you here to protect me?" she asked finally. "Or are you simply observing? Like a scholar with a new species in a cage?"
She turned to him, walking backward now, arms folded behind her. "What is your goal, Vashir of the Vanished Tribe? Why come to my side?"
He stopped.
She halted too.
The forest hushed around them.
Vashir's expression shifted-still unreadable, but softer now. More human than beast.
"That," he said, "is for me to know... and for you to find out."
Lavender tilted her head, amused and annoyed all at once.
"There are things," he continued, eyes flicking to the trees as if fearing they might overhear, "I cannot say. Not because I refuse-but because I am not allowed. Even by my own mouth."
Her amusement faded slightly, replaced with something sharper.
"Magic?" she asked.
"Maybe."
"Duty?"
He hesitated. "...Maybe."
"Fate?" she whispered, stepping closer.
And to that, Vashir said nothing.
Instead, he turned and resumed walking, the wind catching the ends of his black coat. "Me being here with you," he called over his shoulder, "was not something I ever expected."
Lavender stood there a moment longer, arms now crossed over her chest, totem pulsing faintly at her side.
"Neither did I," she muttered.
But she followed.
Because that's what collectors did.
They followed leads, chased riddles, and unraveled every thread until a truth worth keeping glittered in their palms.
And Vashir... oh, Vashir was becoming a very rare riddle indeed.