"Rei! The boar!"
Durik's voice tore through the forest like a warhorn.
Rei barely had time to blink. Red beard, cloak flapping, hammer in hand—the dwarf barreled past the treeline.
"It's massive! Legs like tree trunks! That's meat for a week!"
Kaia blinked at him.
"Don't—"
"REI!" Durik pointed dramatically. "Roasted boar. Midday feast. Apple-stuffed belly. Perfect. Just—chase it. Scare it toward me. Or I swear, I'll eat moss."
Rei gave Kaia a helpless look.
She stared at him flatly. "Don't."
He sighed. Fine.
The forest blurred around him. Mist slapped his cheeks. Moss-covered stones slick under his boots.
The boar bounded ahead. Large, clumsy, but deceptively fast. It knew this forest better than he did.
He pushed harder. Faster. Closing in.
Click.
The earth dropped beneath him.
No time to swear.
A whip of vines, a creak of hidden gears, a groan of ancient wood.
Snap.
Rei vanished upward. A net of woven roots and spirit-thread yanked him into the air.
The forest swallowed the sound instantly.
Durik skidded to a stop. "…Rei?"
Kaia appeared seconds later. "Where—"
They looked up.
There, dangling ten feet off the ground, Rei struggled in a glowing elven snare. Limbs pinned. Rope shimmering with ancestral magic.
He said nothing.
Then—a voice.
Low. Alluring. Threaded with amusement.
"Gotcha."
It drifted from above, veiled in branch and shadow. Smooth, playful. Dangerous in a way that made your pulse rise without warning.
Kaia's eyes narrowed.
Durik paused, chewing thoughts. "That's… not the boar."
Rei, dangling like a confused bat, blinked. "Definitely not the boar."
And then—she fell.
Not gracefully. Not like the stories.
Branches cracked. A yelp. An Elvish curse that sounded suspiciously like "Not again—"
And then—gravity did the rest. She tumbled from the canopy, bounced off a lower branch, flipped midair, and landed with a heavy thud on moss.
Silence.
Even the mist seemed confused.
"Oh gods… my ass…" she groaned.
Kaia raised an unimpressed brow.
Durik muttered, "Ten out of ten."
The elf lay sprawled, cloak twisted, hair wild, armor mismatched, yet somehow captivating.
She pushed up with a smirk that belonged in a tavern's darkest corner. Wiped moss from her cheek.
"Well," she said, warm and wicked, "that wasn't how I planned it."
Durik offered a hand. Ignored.
She swayed to her feet in one graceful motion, hips and shoulders teasing the wind.
Eyes locked on Rei. He hung like a confused bat.
"Oh. You're not a boar."
Kaia's brow rose. "You set that trap for a boar?"
Sylvi—the elf—nodded. Hands on hips. "A big one. Juicy. Instead…" She tilted her head slowly, giving Rei a full up-and-down inspection. "…I caught something more interesting."
Rei groaned. "Can you cut me down?"
She stepped forward—tripped—stumbled—and caught herself against a tree. "Totally meant to do that."
Durik leaned to Kaia. "I really like her."
"Of course you do."
She drew her dagger with a dramatic twirl. "Now, hold still, tall-dark hair-and-handsome. I'm great with traps. Except… disarming them."
Rei blinked. "That's… not reassuring."
"Relax. I once freed a prince from a wyvern's snare using only a hairpin and a curse word."
"Did he survive?"
"Mostly."
Knife sliced the rope. Rei dropped like a stone—face first into mud.
"Oops."
Kaia groaned.
Rei scrambled up, mud-covered, pride in shreds. "You did that on purpose."
"Maybe a little," she said, reaching down and pulling him upright. Hands firm, smile mischievous.
"I'm Sylvi," she purred. "Of Thornevale. Hunter. Tracker. Expert in falling out of trees. And… lucky you… your new guide."
"We don't need a guide," Kaia snapped.
Sylvi tilted her head. "Oh, you definitely do. The woods don't like outsiders. But they like me." Her gaze flicked to Rei again. "And you."
Rei rubbed mud off his cheek. "They like you enough to drop you on your ass?"
"They like to tease," Sylvi said sweetly.
Durik smirked. "You got food, Sylvi?"
She winked. "If you can catch another boar, I'll cook it."
The forest dimmed. Mist rolled low. Sounds dulled. Shadows stretched.
And then—the Void.
A whisper.
"Dreaming again, Riftborn?"
Throne of horns. Sky of wounds. Face of flame and bone. Looming. Familiar.
The Void curled like smoke. Heavy. Warm. Watching.
"Still running? Pretending you don't remember?"
Rei clenched his fists.
"You cannot run forever. Even shadows have roots."
A surge. Like falling.
A voice, stubborn, fragile, human:
"My name is Rei Watanabe. I used to live in Tokyo. I just wanted to buy curry bread."
And then—nothing. Only the Void. Watching.