I was elbow-deep in soil, coaxing stubborn moonwort into rows when something flickered at the edge of my sight.
White. Quick. Soft.
Bunny ears.
I didn't look up.
Around here, weird was normal. If I jumped every time a creature with fur and intent pranced past the garden, I'd never get anything done. So I just muttered to myself, adjusted the angle of the herb bed, and kept working. The early sun was warm, the soil damp and forgiving. I liked mornings like this quiet, honest.
Behind me, somewhere near the shade of the old willow, I could hear them.
Rose's voice drifted through the stillness, light and scribbly.
"Hold still, I'm writing this down."
Elizabeth replied, exasperated but soft. "You're bleeding on the page, again."
I turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse.
Rose sat cross-legged on the grass, one hand scribbling furiously in that thick leather-bound book of hers, the other pressing into her ribs where blood had soaked through her tunic. Despite the mess, she looked pleased, her crimson hair tousled and eyes lit with that dangerous sort of joy she only got when she did something reckless on purpose.
Elizabeth knelt beside her with her sleeves rolled up, long golden hair tucked behind her pointed ears. Her red eyes narrowed in focused irritation as she dabbed a brush into a tiny vial of health potion and began to paint the liquid delicately across the wounds.
She always healed people that way like it was art. Soft strokes, precise pressure. No waste, no fuss. She even hummed sometimes.
Rose winced, then laughed. "I found it."
Elizabeth paused, frowning. "Found what?"
Rose smiled like she'd just won a bet. "The entrance to the labyrinth."
A long pause.
Then bonk.
Elizabeth tapped her on the forehead with the wooden end of the brush. Not hard. Just enough to make her point.
"I found it," she said with a pout, lips pursed. "You just rolled down a hill and landed on the door."
Rose looked up, unbothered. "A discovery's a discovery."
"I swear," Elizabeth muttered. "You are going to die because of your own attitude."
"I'll write something poetic about it," Rose replied, lifting her quill dramatically. "Here lies Rose: bruised, brilliant, and directionally challenged-"
"She was an idiot," Elizabeth cut in, dabbing her brush harder now.
I chuckled to myself and brushed dirt from my hands. There were still rows to tend, but for a moment I just leaned against the fence and watched them.
The half-elf vampire with the soul of a scholar and a scowl that could melt iron.
The reckless genius with a pen in one hand and blood on the other.
My friends.
My family, really.
And now they'd found the entrance.
Which meant the real adventure was about to begin.
Just as I was about to turn back to the soil, I felt it.
A soft pressure against my back light, warm, almost affectionate. Like someone nuzzling their face between my shoulder blades.
I froze.
"…It's you," I said quietly.
No surprise in my voice. No fear. Just the tired familiarity of someone who's lived with strange things long enough to stop asking why.
The presence vanished like it had never been there.
I sighed, dusted off my hands, and plucked the freshest sprigs of healing sage from the bundle I'd set aside strong, fragrant, still cool with dew.
I walked across the grass, up the slight slope toward them. Elizabeth was just finishing her delicate brushwork, brow furrowed, lips tight in concentration. Rose, predictably, had gone back to writing, ignoring the blood drying under her collar.
I crouched beside them and held out the herbs to Elizabeth without a word.
She blinked at me, then softened. "Thank you," she said, voice quiet.
Rose didn't even look up. "I'm not done bleeding yet."
"Then don't move," Elizabeth muttered.
I stood again, brushing off my knees.
They had their own rhythm chaotic, messy, ridiculous. And I was just a steady thread woven through it.
The labyrinth would wait.
But for now, this moment this ridiculous little garden morning was enough.
We'd just finished patching Rose up again and were heading back through the tall grass when the scream split the air.
Sharp. Human. Pained.
I didn't think.
I moved.
"Stay here!" I called over my shoulder, already sprinting. The wind tore at my clothes as I cut through the brush, legs faster than my thoughts. I knew Elizabeth would try to follow. So would Rose. But I was faster than both of them, and we all knew it.
The world blurred past trees, roots, sun slicing through branches like blades.
Another scream. Closer this time. High-pitched, choked.
I slid down a slope and dropped to my stomach, crawling behind a patch of overgrown ferns. My breath slowed. My heart didn't.
Below, in a clearing just beyond the treeline, was a camp.
Four wagons. Two large tents. A fire pit smoldering with ash.
And cages.
Three of them. Iron bars. Chains. People huddled inside thin, bruised, filthy. A man with a branded cheek. Two children no older than ten. A woman with a gag tied too tight over her face.
Slavers.
I gritted my teeth.
Then movement one of the traders stomping toward a cage near the back. Inside it, a girl beastkin. Wolf ears twitched at the top of her tangled, white hair. She glared through the bars, defiant despite the blood trailing from her lip.
She'd screamed. I was sure of it.
The slaver thick arms, ratty beard grabbed the bars and snarled.
"Shut up, mutt."
She spat at him.
He opened the cage and stepped in.
I tensed. Every muscle in my body locked into place.
Then...
CRACK.
Her scream was muffled this time. Her arm hung limp at her side like a broken branch.
I nearly moved. Nearly charged.
But I didn't.
Not yet.
I lowered myself into the ferns, eyes locked on the girl's face as she bit her lip and forced back more sound. I didn't know her name. Didn't know who she was or where she'd come from.
But I knew this, I was going to get her out.
Even if I had to kill every single one of them to do it.