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  The pale autumn sun was only beginning its struggle against the morning mist when Irellis leaned over Violetta and gave her forehead a playful, sharp flick.

  “Time to rise, sleeping blossom. The sun is already high. You’ve snored away half the morning. If you stay in that cocoon any longer, you’ll take root.”

  Violetta sat up, rubbing her eyes. Over months of solitary wandering, she had learned to linger in her shelter longer than was wise. Safety was a sweet, addictive narcotic.

  The Adventurers' Guild occupied the ground floor of an old stone town hall, a place saturated with the scent of wax, ink, and the sweat of other people's ambitions. Life was already boiling here.

  “It’s the first job for our rookie,” Brenn insisted, leaning over the counter. “We need something simple...”

  The administrator, a young woman with a visible hunger for gold, sighed and pulled out a parchment.

  “Here. A gathering task for a local apothecary. Stocking up before winter. We need all varieties of medicinal herbs: sweet clover, albino-root, and other seasonal plants. Gather them in the woods beyond the northern field, up on the ridges. Everything necessary grows there.”

  The air outside the city hadn't warmed yet; it felt sharp and clean in the lungs. Mist coiled over the fields. Dew glistened on jaundiced leaves like shards of glass.

  “No bandits today, just flowers,” Brenn muttered, a blade of grass clamped between his teeth.

  “Unless the brat mistakes belladonna for mint,” Odd added with a crooked smirk.

  “Remember who gathered hops along with nettles last year?” Tillo snapped back. “And who spent three days itching like an enchanted badger?”

  Smiles rippled through the group like an autumn wind through dry rye. When they split into pairs, Irellis cast a silent glance at Violetta.

  “Stay close, but don’t breathe down my neck. Let’s see how you handle yourself.”

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  [STABLE POINT IDENTIFIED. DISTANCE TO OBJECT: 33 METERS. NO THREATS DETECTED,] the Sphere’s clinical voice echoed in Violetta’s mind.

  Violetta scanned her surroundings. Irellis was hunched over a fuzzy plant some distance away. The others were further still. She stepped cautiously into the brush, dissolving among the tall burdocks and thorns.

  Like a cat, she glided between the trees, approaching the Sphere’s concealment. Sunlight pierced the crown of an ancient oak, and there, nestled among the branches, hung the familiar orb. Translucent and silent, it rotated on its axis as if in deep thought.

  [BACKPACK: INTACT. POTENTIAL THREAT: MINIMAL. CONTENTS SECURED. NO SCANS DETECTED SINCE LAST ACTIVATION.]

  “Long time no see, little ball,” Violetta whispered, reaching out. The Sphere descended slowly, as if yielding a secret. She took the rucksack—light but dense, made of a synthetic fabric that neither soaked nor tore, regardless of the abuse. it seemed to hold the scent of a home long gone: her precious grimoire and other trinkets gathered along the way.

  Violetta’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Her hands trembled as she clutched not just an object, but a piece of her own soul woven from memories. It wasn't a backpack; it was an anchor, tethering her past and allowing her true self to exist even in this alien world.

  She swung the pack onto her shoulders, feeling a momentary surge of confidence. Though...

  The katana protruded from the side, thin and sinister. It wasn't a sword; it was something entirely foreign to this era. And the fabric of the pack—black synthetic with an otherworldly sheen—looked unnatural against the dirt.

  It’s not a sword; it’s a blade from another world. And this pack... black polymers amidst linen and coarse wool. I’ll have to find a way to explain this to the others.

  She took a deep breath and stepped back into the world that remained a stranger to her.

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  Violetta was set to return to Irellis, lost in thought. The sun seemed warmer here, and the crystalline song of spring birds drifted from the brush. She didn't notice at first, but her gaze snagged on an anomaly. Between the dead, autumnal woods, a patch of spring had erupted—vivid and warm. The leaves here were lush green. The air smelled of honey. High above, like silver bells, birds sang out of season. And the light... it was soft, golden, like something from a nursery tale.

  This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

  The glade looked as if it had been torn from a dream. In its center stood a tree with twisted limbs, beneath which slept a girl with pointed ears. Her hair was milk-white, braided with ivy and flowers. Her skin gave off a faint luminescence in the sunlight that danced across her snow-white dress.

  Violetta took a step forward.

  “Vi? Where did you go?” Irellis’s worried voice drifted from behind the bushes.

  Violetta flinched and turned. When she looked back at the glade, the spring was gone. There was only the usual grey-yellow rot, weeds, and dry twigs. The girl—it was as if she had never existed. Only a few strangely shaped flowers remained, shivering in the autumn wind.

  Violetta gathered several. Then, she accessed her database—a blue luminescent flower she had found in the spring. She synthesized a replica, laying it carefully where the mysterious forest girl had slept.

  As she walked away, she turned one last time.

  The girl was sitting under the tree. Smiling, she inhaled the scent of the flower Violetta had left. Her eyes shone with tenderness and... gratitude. She waved her hand and vanished, dissolving as if she were made of mist. But the scent of spring lingered in the air for a long time.

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  Irellis let out a nervous breath when she saw Violetta emerging from the woods. She had already imagined the girl torn apart by boars, wolves, or some other local filth. Her expression was grim until she saw the bundle of herbs and the strange, thin-stemmed flowers in the girl’s hands.

  “And what is that bag on your back?” Irellis stepped closer, leaning over the trophies.

  “I found my cache. Left it here before... before I was taken by the slavers.”

  Brenn moved in, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Look at this! A whole bouquet! What have you got there, little pot-stirrer?”

  Violetta carefully withdrew a root wrapped in leaves—whitish, with faint pink veins. It looked as though light avoided its surface.

  “It’s... an albino mandrake root,” she said with a hint of uncertainty.

  Irellis froze. “I... I thought they were extinct. Where did you find it?!”

  “In the thicket near a dead tree. It felt like... it was calling.”

  Astonishment washed over the group’s faces like wine spilled on a dirty table. Tillo snorted. “Well, look at that. We have our own little druid now. Careful, or she’ll start whispering to the trees next!”

  Odd approached with a frown, took one of the flowers, sniffed it, and grimaced. “This should smell like grass. It smells... like dead wood.”

  “Perfect for poison brewing,” Violetta winked, surprising even herself.

  Brenn nudged her with an elbow. “That’s it! Tomorrow I’m taking you on the spider contract. If you survive, I’ll buy you a cider.”

  “No!” Violetta cried out with genuine horror. “Ugh! Anything but spiders!”

  Irellis stood beside her immediately. “I agree. Spiders are a nightmare. Useful... but a nightmare.”

  The group erupted in laughter. Even Odd let out a grunt of amusement. For the first time, Violetta felt like a cracked vessel being filled with warmth again.

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  Dusk crept through the city like woodsmoke—slow but inevitable. The lanterns flickered weakly, as if afraid to be too bright.

  The group marched through the streets, exhausted but carrying the air of a minor victory. Violetta lagged behind, peering into shop windows until she stopped at a wine merchant’s.

  “Now or never,” she muttered, biting her lip. She went in and bought a bottle of red wine. A bit too expensive for her taste, but it was a symbol—a gift to herself.

  At the Guild, she handed the bottle to the administrator. The woman gave a short snort—something between a laugh and fatigue.

  “Well then... it’s official. First mission complete. Tradition is tradition.”

  Violetta was turning to leave when her gaze caught the woman’s neck. Her collar had shifted, revealing black lines curved in a familiar semi-circle. Half of a symbol she knew too well. She said nothing, but her expression shifted.

  I need to remember this...

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  The Three Bones was loud and far too warm for autumn. It smelled of sweat, ale, and fried onions. Violetta squeezed into a corner, but she didn't stay there long—Brenn was already tugging her sleeve toward the table.

  “To our little witch! Who didn't fear the forest demons and brought us an albino mandrake!” he proclaimed, clutching his mug.

  “Not a witch, a druid,” Irellis mumbled through a mouthful of bread.

  “Right, right... druid!” Tillo laughed.

  Odd sat silently opposite them. Violetta suddenly pulled something dark and shimmering from her pouch—belladonna.

  “Here. You wanted it, you got it,” she said with an innocent smile.

  He took it cautiously, unsure how to react.

  “Just don't eat it all at once,” she winked.

  Brenn nearly choked on his beer. “She’s playing with Odd! Did you see that?!” He roared with laughter. “That’s the spirit, kid!”

  The evening wore on. Wine, ale, fried liver, and porridge. Violetta laughed—just a little. But it was real.

  When they returned to their room, Irellis stripped down to her chemise and kicked off her boots.

  “You need to worry less. Honestly. You have a good face and...” she paused, surprised. “And a good body. You’re thin, but... strong. For your age.”

  “T-thank you...” Violetta smiled shyly.

  She shed her outer layers, remaining in a thin blouse. Her hair spilled over her shoulders. They settled into their beds.

  “It was a good day,” Violetta whispered. “For the first time in a long time, I... I think I’m lucky. They’re good people.”

  “They’re lunatics,” Irellis said, “but yes, they are good.”

  But then, the light in Violetta’s eyes shifted. A shadow of memory. Her gaze clouded, her lips trembled.

  “Papa... Mama... Marunya...” she whispered, curling into a ball.

  Tears dripped silently onto her pillow. Irellis didn't ask. She simply stood up, placed a hand on the girl’s forehead, and whispered a spell—simple, like a lullaby.

  The Sphere flickered inside her backpack: [WARNING: PSYCHO-PHYSIOLOGICAL INTERFERENCE DETECTED. EFFECT: POSITIVE. BLOCKING OVERRIDDEN.]

  Sleep consumed Violetta. Light, like a spiderweb on a spring wind. Irellis lay down nearby, shielding her as if she could protect the girl from all the world’s evil.

  “Sleep soundly. You’re safe now.” She gently rested her hand on her head, and Violetta’s ears twitched almost imperceptibly.

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