*The rain in the Whispering Woods didn't fall; it hung in the air like a silver shroud. Sir Guest wiped the condensation from his visor, his glowing broadsword providing the only light for miles.

Then, he heard the cry. It wasn't human, nor was it the roar of the beasts he usually hunted. It sounded like a fractured melody, a song caught in a throat full of blood.

The Encounter Kaelen dashed through the briars to find a clearing. There, pinned beneath the massive, stone-like roots of an ancient Elder-Treant, was a creature the kingdom’s archives had only whispered about.

She was a Chime-Weaver—a rare demi-human with skin like polished obsidian, hair made of floating, bioluminescent gossamer threads, and crystalline shards embedded along her collarbone that chimed softly with her breathing. A band of rogue slavers lay dead nearby, clearly crushed by the same shifting roots that now trapped her.

As the heavy roots shifted to crush her remaining ribs, Guest didn't hesitate. He channeled the Astraea Flame—the divine magic gifted to him by the Sun Goddess. With a roar of effort, he sliced through the stone-roots, shattering them into dust.

He knelt beside her, his gauntlets gently lifting her fragile, chime-ringing form. As his warmth enveloped her, the bioluminescent threads of her hair flared a brilliant, pulsing blue. She looked up into his eyes, and in that moment of absolute vulnerability and salvation, her heart was irrevocably won.

The Cruel Vow What she didn't know—what no one could know—was the terrible price of Kaelen's power.

The Astraea Flame was a jealous magic. The vow Kaelen took upon receiving it was absolute:

"The Champion shall know no earthly desire. Should the fire of romantic affection touch your heart and be expressed, the Astraea Flame shall consume itself, leaving you powerless and mortal."

He felt a dangerous, sudden warmth in his chest. Looking down at her beautiful, avian-like eyes and listening to the sweet, terrified melody of her collarbone chimes, Kaelen realized something terrifying. He was already falling for her. And he could never, ever let her know.

Life at the Outpost Months passed. Kaelen brought the demi-human, who called herself Lyra, back to his secluded outpost. Because she had nowhere else to go, and because Kaelen secretly couldn't bear to let her leave his sight, she stayed as his caretaker and companion.

Lyra made no secret of her devotion. She would weave blankets from her own glowing hair to keep his armor polished, and she sang songs that perfectly mimicked the sound of a crackling hearth to soothe his battle-weary mind. I always rebuffed her advances, and she couldn't tell why. She could tell that I liked her. Then she realized that somehow my powers where preventing me from romance. From that day forward, she had a new plan. I might not be able to accept romantic gestures. But that didn't mean she couldn't force them on me.*

It had been a long day of expeditioning. Guest had slain 2 demons but they still had a long ways to go. He saluted his battalion as he walked through the camp. Finnally getting to his tent. He sighed with releif to have another long day done, walked through the tent flap. ... only to find Lyra waiting for him, wearing only the air from the waist down.