Thorin's First Thundersday of Harvestfall, 1442, market stalls, City of Zephyrdale.

Elyssia drained the iced lemonade in one long pull, barely pausing for breath. She handed the empty mug back to the young Pint burrovian girl behind the stall. The girl's mouth hung open, ears twitching in astonishment.

"Thanks," Elyssia said, fishing a cuprum chip from her pouch and pressing it gently into the girl's hand.

"Miss—that's way too much!"

Elyssia shook her head with a slow, certain smile. "Not for a drink this perfect. Take it—you earned it."

She did not linger around to protest, darting up the hill toward the teleportation runes. Her interface flickered open mid-stride, fingers flying.

"Hey, you two—I'm at Zephyrdale's portal site. Vaelith, can you send Kaelyn over when you're ready?"

The reply came almost instantly.

"Sure. Just a minute—we're wrapping up here. Took you longer than I expected. Trouble on the road?"

Elyssia flushed as she replied.

"No, nothing like that. I… may have stopped to clear every hunting-log target on the way through Whispering Wilds."

"Really? Worth it?"

"XP? Not so much. Coins, though—definitely. Crafting mats hit my coffers harder than expected, so I've been padding the balance."

Kaelyn chimed in then, her words as smooth as ever.

"If you need coin, just say so. I'm flush, and I don't mind covering the ore and gems you used on my gear."

Elyssia hesitated. Two days ago she would have expected a very different tone from the priestess. Her mind flashed back to their first meeting—how furious she had been at Kaelyn's treatment of Vaelith. What had changed since then?

"Nah, it's on me. I green-lit the expense without consulting the group. I've already made my peace with it. Besides, the crafting XP was worth it. I can always chase big-ticket profits at level cap later."

"Suit yourself. My offer stands—the Bank of Kaelyn is always open."

Before Elyssia could answer, Vaelith interjected.

"You two can argue about finances face-to-face. Summon complete—Kaelyn incoming."

Elyssia folded her arms, settling in to witness her first of Vaelith's rituals. The air above the runes rippled like heat haze. Light swelled—then snuffed out, plunging the hilltop into sudden twilight.

The hum deepened into a resonant toll, like a bell underwater. Shadows spiralled upward in slow, deliberate coils. Stars blinked within them—tiny silver pinpricks across a canvas of void. Violet fog spread along the ground, curling around Elyssia's boots.

Then the vortex collapsed inward. A silhouette stepped from the implosion, limned in starlight.

Kaelyn.

Gone was the alchemist's garb—she wore priestly whites again, her blonde hair tied in a simple high ponytail. In her hand, a new staff pulsed faintly with light, each throb a heartbeat of radiance.

Elyssia had to admit—the ritual looked spectacular.

Kaelyn scanned the clearing, spotted her, and smiled. "Hey."

"Need to grab supplies? Food? Potions?" Elyssia asked.

Kaelyn tapped her satchel, glass clinking inside. "I'm stocked."

"Then let's move." Elyssia gestured east, down the slope. "Half the Whispering Wilds between us and Myrknar."

Kaelyn fell into step, staff balanced across her shoulders like a walking stick. "Oh—remind me when we reach the dungeon. I've got the holy water you asked for. What's the plan with those?"

"Cleansing curses. Higher undead love stacking debuffs. And in a pinch, you can toss them like grenades. AoE damage, but only against undead."

Kaelyn tilted her head. "Ah, and you wanted them for cleansing, or damage?"

"Yes, exactly."

A groan escaped her throat, followed by a sudden giggle—light, almost careless. Elyssia blinked. This easy, playful version of Kaelyn felt… wrong. Or maybe more right than the mask she had worn before? Elyssia could not decide.

By the time they reached the base of the hill, she spun and started backpedalling. "Now we're out of city limits—want to pick up the pace?"

Kaelyn raised a brow. "You mean… run?"

"Almost." Elyssia grinned. "Race."

"Really?" The priestess laughed, startled. "You're serious?"

"Why not?"

Kaelyn gestured at her robes, then at Elyssia's toned martial artist frame. "Really? Look at me. Now look at you."

Elyssia sighed, already anticipating the objection. Sure—cloth casters looked like they would lose a race against martial artists. But this was a game. Mechanics flattened the edges: classes balanced, differences smoothed out. There were exceptions—like guardians built heavy and slow—but most players ran at the same clip.

That was the design. Unique flavour without breaking the numbers.

Armed with the certainty that the race would be closer than Kaelyn guessed, Elyssia widened her grin, baiting her companion. "Giving up before you even try?"

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She expected a laugh, an eye-roll, maybe a playful scoff. What she got instead was silence.

Not the theatrical kind—Kaelyn simply… froze. Her shoulders sagged a fraction, her head tilting as though invisible fingers had backhanded her.

Elyssia faltered. "…Kaelyn?"

The priestess turned just enough to glance back. No smile. No spark. Her voice was flat, ice-edged. "Say that again."

"I—what?"

"Go ahead." Her tone sharpened to a near-snarl. "Tell me it's a loser's excuse."

The air between them went still. Elyssia shifted uneasily. "I didn't mean—"

"—You sounded just like her," Kaelyn cut in.

"…Who?"

"Mother Vervaine." There was venom in voice at the mention of the name. "One of the nuns at the orphanage." Kaelyn's hand tightened on her staff. "I told her I had no talent for magic. She slapped me—just backhanded me like that was the only answer—and said, 'Not being talented is a loser's excuse.'"

Her eyes glinted, hard as steel. "So. Are you going to hit me too?"

A shiver traced Elyssia's spine.

Kaelyn barked a joyless laugh. "Look at you—asking me to do the impossible. Beat you in a race, of all people. Then mocking me when I admit I can't. Same damned thing."

"I didn't—" The protest withered on Elyssia's lips. Because maybe, just maybe, she had meant it that way. Not cruelly, but she had wanted to prod. To provoke. And she had.

Kaelyn looked forward again, voice quieter but no less steady. "Sorry. I probably look like I enjoy making people feel small. Truth is, I've been on the other end of that my whole life."

Elyssia's throat tightened. "Kaelyn, I'm sorry. I wasn't—"

"—I know." Kaelyn lifted a hand, stopping her. "You thought it was a joke. You didn't know it would echo."

So they walked in silence, a fragile truce stretched thin between them. Like the stillness after a dropped cup—no one hurt, but shards everywhere, both afraid to move first.

Elyssia let the wind tug at her sleeves before finally breaking the quiet. "It wasn't meant as a challenge."

Kaelyn sighed, long and heavy.

"I mean it," Elyssia pressed. "I wasn't mocking you. I just… forget sometimes."

A sideways glance. "Forget what?"

"How much I know." Elyssia exhaled. "The systems, the edge cases, the weird interactions. I maxed out every class in the last version. I've read every skill description here, too—passive and active. I know what each class can and can't do."

Kaelyn arched a brow. "Bold claim."

"Despite having a master's degree, I've spent more time in this game than in actual classrooms," Elyssia said flatly. "So yeah—I know your kit. Not just from reading, but from experience. Past-life experience, sure, but still."

Kaelyn slowed a fraction. The edge in her stance softened.

"So at our level," Elyssia continued, "our mobility is basically identical. Flip the roles—me as priest, you as martial artist—the race odds wouldn't change."

"…Really?" Kaelyn's voice wavered between doubt and curiosity. "Priests have mobility?"

"Every class does," Elyssia countered. "We've all got Sprint. And both of us have a twenty-yard dash—friend or foe—on a fifteen-second cooldown. I only get three stackable charges because I'm a tank, so I can chain them in emergencies. But in a race? Doesn't matter. Takes forty-five seconds to recharge all three, so long-term it evens out."

Kaelyn tilted her chin. "Alright. Then teach me. If I've got tools I don't understand—I want to know."

Elyssia brightened. "Perfect. You hit eighteen last dungeon, right?"

Kaelyn nodded.

"Good. Then let's start with your Pull of Light."

Her staff bobbed once in acknowledgment. "That one I know. Yank an enemy or an ally."

"Exactly. Doesn't help much in a race, but let's reframe. Picture a boss fight. Vaelith's manning cannons on one side of the arena. Then she needs to sprint to the other. Without you, she'd burn Sprint or Blink twice. But if you stand mid-arena and pull her halfway? She only has to cover the second leg."

Kaelyn's eyes flickered, intrigued despite herself. "So I'm an orbital slingshot. Alright, that's clever."

"Or this," Elyssia said, warming to the explanation. "Say I'm kiting mobs—running while they chip away at me. Most healers panic-heal. Which pulls aggro straight onto them. But if you're positioned ahead, you don't heal. You pull me forward instead. Burst of movement, zero threat. I stay alive. You stay off the hate list."

Kaelyn pursed her lips, thoughtful now.

Elyssia smiled faintly. "That's the difference between playing your kit and mastering it."

"Similarly," Elyssia went on, "you can use Pull of Light to peel a single mob off me. If I'm kiting a pack, it's usually better to yank me forward. But against bosses? Sometimes it's cleaner to lasso the boss itself."

"Like I did for the sea serpent mini-boss?"

"Exactly. Just keep in mind—it works like a tank's hard taunt. You rocket to the top of the threat list, no matter how much hate I'd built. If you pull a boss, you'd better have an exit plan."

Kaelyn's smile tilted wry. "Last time, I just ran in circles until you got it back."

"That works," Elyssia admitted, "but it locks you out of most of your spells. You'll need something stronger. Which is why you got a new toy at eighteen: Blinding Speed."

"Right. Bi-modal?" Kaelyn tilted her head. "Different effect depending on friend or foe?"

"Bingo. Either way, it launches you at the target. On enemies, you collide in a burst of holy light—good damage plus a heavy blind. Time it before a tank buster and odds are the swing misses me entirely."

Kaelyn twitched a smile. "So the name's a pun. Blinding Speed: fast movement and blinds the target."

"Classic dev humour." Elyssia shrugged. "On allies, though, the burst becomes an instant heal—stronger than most normal casts."

Kaelyn frowned. "Risky, though. If my ally's standing in melee range and I zip to heal them, I land smack inside the cleave zone."

"True. Ideally you pull allies to you instead. But if you suddenly realise you're the one standing in fire? Blinding Speed gets you out instantly—right to someone else's safe spot. Like Leoric's. He's good about not standing in dumb."

"Or I could use it just to keep pace with Vaelith after a blink," Kaelyn mused.

"Exactly. Doesn't even have to be combat. You can zip around town just as fast as she does. Remember—Leoric and Vaelith's travel powers target locations. Ours need people."

Kaelyn tapped her staff against her shoulder. "Alright, then—if we're racing, who do we even target with our dashes? Each other?"

"Two options. Fauna, or other players. Easiest is chaining off each other. One of us sprints first. The other waits until just before they outrun dash range—then closes the gap with a Blinding Speed. Pop your sprint right after."

Kaelyn arched a brow. "And then you just dash back to me when my sprint ends?"

Elyssia grinned. "Of course. Done perfectly, we yo-yo neck-and-neck, both waiting on cooldowns. But here's the kicker—we cover more ground than if we both just sprinted on CD."

Kaelyn narrowed her eyes. "Prove it."

"Alright, math time." Elyssia ticked it off on her fingers. "Walk speed: 1.5 yards per second. Run: 2.5. Sprint: 3.25. Say we're running a thousand yards. Pure running: 400 seconds. Walking: 666."

Kaelyn mouthed the numbers, nodding.

"We can sprint twenty out of every sixty seconds. That averages out to about 165 yards per minute. So ~363 seconds to finish. Following?"

"I think so."

"Good. Now—if I sprint first, by the time it ends I'm fifteen yards ahead: me at 65, you at 50. That's when you dash to me. Bam—twenty seconds in, both at 65 yards. Then you sprint. Same deal, forty seconds in, we're at 130. That's 3.25 yards per second. If we'd synchronised our sprints together? Only 115 yards by then. 2.875."

Kaelyn's eyes widened. "So by staggering, we effectively sprint two-thirds of the time instead of one-third."

"Exactly." Elyssia beamed. "When I said race, it was never about beating you—it was about getting there faster together. It's fun, exhilarating travel, not humiliation."

Kaelyn rolled her eyes, but the tension had eased. "You could've led with that. Still… I get it. We pull each other forward. Work together."

Elyssia blinked. That was deeper than she had intended. She just liked the thrill of leapfrogging each other. But Kaelyn was right—beneath the fun was a lesson about trust and teamwork.

"I owe you an apology," Elyssia said quietly. "I did the same with Jae earlier—assumed. Expected people to follow my logic without explaining. Treated you like guildmates I'd known for years, not friends I met two days ago. Please forgive me."

Kaelyn sighed softly. "And I'm sorry for snapping. You hit a raw nerve. Took me off guard."

"You've nothing to apologise for, Lyn." The nickname slipped out before Elyssia realised.

Kaelyn blinked. "…Lyn?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by it. Just slipped."

She seemed to test the sound of it in her mind. Then, with the faintest genuine smile: "I don't hate it."

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