Morning arrived like an uninvited guest, dragging Mei-Ling from her restless sleep. Her eyes were puffy, a silent tribute to last night's emotional meltdown she'd definitely not be admitting to anyone. Ever.
Jingfei, sharp-eyed and already elbows-deep in breakfast prep, noticed instantly. "Alright, who do I have to stab?" she asked flatly, eyes narrowing. "Because you look like you cried yourself ugly."
Mei-Ling gave a weak snort but said nothing. She grabbed a cloak and a basket with enough force to nearly snap the handle.
"Mei-Ling-what happened?" Jingfei pressed, lowering her ladle like it might double as a weapon.
"Nothing," Mei-Ling muttered, dodging the question like a professional. "I'm going out. Herbs."
"Herbs?" Jingfei echoed suspiciously. "Herbs don't grow in the forest that way, it's barely spring-"
But Mei-Ling was already out the door, mumbling something about "nature's healing" and "needing a walk before she sets something on fire."
****
The forest was quiet, mercifully so, and Gui - ever the patient beast - waited exactly where she'd left him. Mei-Ling mounted with a sigh, patting his head "At least you don't ask questions."
Gui purred, which she chose to interpret as agreement.
They rode, the wind tugging at Mei-Ling's hair as the world melted away behind her. Slowly, the suffocating weight in her chest loosened. There was something about the trees, the sunlight filtering through the branches, and the soft drum of Gui's paws that helped her breathe again.
Until the trees thinned.
Mei-Ling blinked, pulling Gui to a stop as the forest gave way to a sprawling field of green and gold. "Huh... well, this definitely isn't the herb patch."
Dismounting, she let her fingers trail through the grass. A soft whisper of magic slipped from her lips, and with it, blooms of blue unfurled like a painter had spilled sky-colored ink across the land.
Gui let out a low huff, unimpressed.
"I know," she smiled. "Dramatic. But sometimes a girl needs to conjure flowers or she starts hexing people."
Then-
"HEY! WAIT!"
Mei-Ling flinched. Gui immediately squared up, ears flicking forward as a red-headed figure emerged from the sea of blue, flailing his arms like he was signaling ships.
Mei-Ling's hand drifted toward her dagger, because of course someone had to ruin her moment.
The tall ginger figure finally stumbled into view, a walking disaster draped in what might have once been a robe, his hands on their knees, shoulders heaving, wheezing loudly like, "Haaaaah... just... give me a minute..."
"...Chasing me?" Mei-Ling arched a brow. "That's not creepy at all."
Behind him, two stout men appeared, black beards swinging, identical enough to make her squint. Clones? No... dwarves? Definitely dwarves.
The redhead straightened, puffing out his chest. "I-I'm Feredis Večnoson!" He gestured weakly to the two dwarves. "Fror and Gror Željeznason! They're, uh... with me."
Fror and Gror tipped their hats and gave identical stiff bows.
"Look, I mean-no harm! Really!" Feredis blurted, holding his hands up like she might throw a fireball. "I just-well-there were flowers, and then poof, this whole... magical blue carpet thing... and, well, here I am. That was you, right?"
"It was," she admitted, smirking. "Trying to break the world record for 'most dramatic emotional breakdown disguised as art'."
Fror snorted. "Good luck. Gror's ex-wife holds that title."
Gror grunted. "It was a funeral."
Mei-Ling blinked.
"I... have questions, but I'm scared of the answers."
Feredis cleared his throat.
"My Lady, forgive me, but... what are you? That magic... I've never seen anything like it."
"I'm Lotus Spirit, in other words a Fae" Mei-Ling answered lightly.
The three men exchanged glances - wide-eyed, skeptical.
"...You don't have wings," Feredis blurted.
"Do you see me flitting around in a dress made of leaves?" Mei-Ling shot back dryly. "Not all Fae are pixie-sized garden pests."
Fror elbowed his brother. "See? Told you that book was garbage."
Gror shrugged. "Pictures were nice, though."
Mei-Ling sighed, rubbing her temples. "So... why exactly are you three following me through flower fields like a bad ballad?"
Feredis coughed. "Ah. Yes. See... the thing is... night's falling. And, well, the woods aren't safe after dark." He puffed up. "But fear not! I shall protect you!"
He struck a heroic pose, which would've been more convincing if his hat didn't immediately flop forward, covering his eyes.
Fror facepalmed. "By the gods, not this again."
Gror yawned. "Wake me when he dies trying."
Mei-Ling snorted, unable to help herself. "Alright, Sir Floppy Hat. You can camp. But one of you snores and you're feeding Gui in the morning."
Gui bared his teeth, just enough for Feredis to swallow hard and nod. "Y-yes, my lady."
****
As night crept in, Fror and Gror expertly gathered wood. Feredis, determined to prove himself, stood over the pile and dramatically rubbed his hands.
"Stand back. I've got this."
"Here we go," Fror groaned, flopping onto a log.
Feredis chanted. Forgot the words. Started again. Stopped. Looked at the sky like it held answers.
Mei-Ling leaned toward Gui. "Think we should tell him he's about to summon a squirrel?"
Gui snorted.
Finally, the fire caught - more luck than skill - and Feredis cheered, arms up. "HA! Witness my power!"
"Mm," Gror grunted, half-asleep. "Congratulations. You're officially warmer."
Mei-Ling laughed, genuine and bright. "Well, you are better than the last idiot who tried. He lit himself on fire."
"Really?" Feredis blinked. "What happened to him?"
Mei-Ling grinned. "Roast meat for three days. Gui still dreams about it."
Gui whickered approvingly.
For the first time in days, Mei-Ling felt the knot in her chest loosen. Maybe this night - strange as it was - wasn't going to end in tears after all.
Meanwhile, back at the Outpost, Aelric's jaw was so tight he thought it might crack. The simple morning task of herb gathering had now turned into Mei-Ling vanishing off the face of the earth-or worse, the forest had swallowed her whole.
He'd already checked the usual spots: the kitchen, the training yard, the stupid gnarled tree she sulked behind... nothing. Just when his frustration hit its peak, he spotted Jingfei by the pond, furiously scrubbing a tunic like it owed her money.
Aelric approached, his voice clipped, "Where is she?"
Jingfei didn't even look up. "She's where you drove her."
He blinked. "What?"
Slapping the wet tunic against the rock, Jingfei shot him a glare. "Mei-Ling left at sunrise. Said she was 'gathering herbs.'" She snorted. "More like 'escaping heartbreak,' if you ask me."
"I didn't," Aelric growled, but the words held no real bite.
Jingfei stood, hands on hips. "You hurt her, Aelric. Whatever you said-whatever you did-it sent her running. And now? The sun's down, and she's still not back."
Aelric's chest tightened. "She should have been back by now."
"Oh, you think?" Jingfei snapped. "You princes are all the same-thinking we're fragile until we actually go missing."
Aelric's mouth opened-then closed. For once, the insufferable woman wasn't wrong.
As the sky bled orange and gold, the worst possibilities gnawed at him-bandits, beasts, or some curse-ridden forest trick luring Mei-Ling away.
He'd waited long enough.
Without another word, he stormed to the stables, tightening the saddle straps with white-knuckled precision.
Of course, that was when she showed up.
"Leaving... at such an hour?" Lady Aurelia's voice oozed disdain as she sauntered up, her golden hair practically glowing in the dying light. "For her?" She wrinkled her nose as if Mei-Ling were something sticky she'd stepped in. "You risk royal disgrace-for a human?"
Aelric froze. Slowly, he turned his cold gaze on her. "Careful, Aurelia. You're mistaking my tolerance for patience."
She blinked. "I'm merely concerned for your future."
"I know exactly where my future stands right now," Aelric growled, swinging onto his horse. "And it's not here listening to you."
Aurelia's jaw clenched. "You'll regret this."
"Probably," he deadpanned, and with a sharp whistle, he spurred his horse forward. "But not tonight."
The sound of hooves echoed into the twilight as Aelric vanished into the trees-his only focus now on one thing: finding Mei-Ling.
****
Amidst the warmth of the crackling bonfire, laughter danced freely on the night air. The companions gathered close, reveling in the rare moment of camaraderie, their spirits lifted by shared tales, the aroma of roast chicken, and the occasional clink of tankards.
Feredis, cheeks flushed with ale and pride, launched into his favorite subject - himself. "I'm telling you, this year... this is the year I finally get in. The Monastery of Wizardry atop Snežni Nordtop-" He paused dramatically, glancing around. "-where Master Vedran Frostbinder himself oversees the Order. This year, I'll be one of the Arcane Brothers."
Fror snorted, nearly choking on his ale. "By the gods, Feredis, that's what you said the last five times."
Gror gave a slow, toothy grin. "Aye. And every year, you came back singed, sulking, and smelling like roasted squirrel."
Feredis scowled. "That was one time. And it was a magical mishap, thank you very much."
Fror let out a loud burp, grinning ear to ear. "Mishap? You set your own beard on fire trying to conjure snow."
"It was summon frost!" Feredis shot back, his face turning as red as his hair. "The spell... it just-misfired."
Gror gave a lazy chuckle. "Aye, right into your own face."
With a growl, Feredis hurled a half-eaten chicken drumstick at Fror. Without missing a beat, Fror caught it mid-air, took a dramatic bite, and chewed with an exaggerated air of victory. "Mmm... tastes like failure."
Laughter erupted around the fire. Even Mei-Ling chuckled, though it faded almost as quickly as it came. Her gaze drifted to the flames, shoulders slumping as her thoughts wandered. Tomorrow, Aelric would be gone. Off to some destiny she wasn't part of, leaving her with nothing but his ghost in the embers.
Gror, always the quieter of the two brothers, caught the flicker of sadness shadowing her face. He elbowed Fror hard enough to make him grunt, then leaned forward, plucking another chicken wing from the pile and offering it out like a peace offering.
"Don't be sad, My-Lady," Gror rumbled gently. "Food fixes most things. Even a stubborn heart."
Mei-Ling blinked, startled by the kindness. Slowly, she accepted the wing, her lips quirking into the faintest smile. "Thank you, Gror. It's... delicious."
Fror gave a loud cheer. "See? Told you, Gror. There's not a sorrow in this world that can't be chased off with a good roast and terrible company!"
"Speak for yourself," Feredis muttered, pretending to sulk. "Some of us are refined."
Gror snorted. "Refined, he says-this from the lad who once tried to impress a High Mage and farted mid-spell."
Feredis groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I knew one of you louts would bring that up."
Mei-Ling's laughter slipped free-light, genuine-and for a moment, the ache in her chest dulled.
Fror grinned wide. "There it is! The Lady's still got a smile, eh? Told you, Gror-chicken saves lives."
"Aye," Gror nodded solemnly. "And if not, there's always ale."
Tankards lifted in agreement as the night deepened around them, their laughter echoing into the darkness - a small, stubborn light in a world far too ready to take joy away.