The Arcane Field Unit sounded glamorous in theory—stealthy missions, arcane espionage, magical problem-solving—but in practice, it meant hiking through a cursed swamp at dawn with soggy boots and zero coffee.
Rose grumbled as she trudged beside Basil through the boggy expanse of the Bone Orchard. Despite its name, there were no trees—only twisted skeletal remains of giant beasts poking from the mist like forgotten statues. The ground squelched beneath every step.
"This place smells like frog death," Rose muttered.
"It is frog death," Basil replied, pointing to a pile of bones beside them. "That's a death toad skeleton. Venomous, obviously."
"Obviously," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "Why can't magical missions ever be in meadows?"
Nimbus floated overhead like a miserable puff of storm. "Permission to evaporate, captain?"
"Denied."
They reached a cracked stone monolith surrounded by a circle of glowing runes. This was the mission: investigate rising necromantic energy from the heart of the Bone Orchard. According to Grimsbane, someone—or something—was waking up the dead.
Basil knelt by the monolith, brushing away moss to reveal deeper markings. "These are fresh."
"Which means someone's been here recently," Rose said. "Or they're still here."
As if summoned by her words, the mist stirred. A faint rattling echoed through the swamp.
Rose turned slowly, sparks gathering on her fingertips. "Please tell me that's Nimbus."
"Nope," said Nimbus from safely above.
From the fog emerged skeletal figures, armored in rusted metal, eyes glowing with eerie green fire. Undead knights—dozens of them—surrounded the clearing, their bone swords raised in silent challenge.
Basil stood. "This may require improvisation."
Rose grinned. "Good. I hate plans."
The knights charged.
Rose raised her hands and unleashed a wave of chain lightning, the bolts dancing between skeletal chests and shattering bones. Basil met the charge head-on, weaving through the horde with his runed dagger slicing clean arcs of destruction.
It was poetry in motion—chaos and control. Rose's wild, arcing spells lit up the swamp, and Basil's precise strikes turned bone to dust. They moved like they'd trained for years instead of arguing over broom closet space just last week.
As the last knight fell, the monolith began to hum ominously.
"Oh no," Rose muttered. "Why do ancient stones always hum right before something explodes?"
Before Basil could answer, a surge of green energy erupted from the runes, forming into a spectral figure—a tall woman in tattered robes and a bone crown.
"I am Elavara," she intoned, voice echoing from another realm. "Warden of the Lost Grave."
Rose and Basil instinctively stepped closer together.
"Why are you here?" Rose asked.
Elavara's gaze swept over them. "Because the dead are stirring. The veil is thinning. And your bond is the key."
Then, as quickly as she appeared, she vanished.
Silence returned. Rose exhaled. "So. That was fun."
Basil looked over at her. "You did well."
She smirked. "Trying to charm me now?"
"Is it working?"
She didn't answer, but her smirk said enough.