The fountain water trickled softly, creating a soothing background noise in the small public square. Cassian sat on the stone edge, legs crossed, watching people pass by with a mix of fascination and disappointment.
A town. A real town with real people.
Leefside. That was the name of this place. Not very big—maybe a few thousand inhabitants—but alive. Shops lined the cobblestone streets. Children ran around laughing. Merchants shouted their prices.
It's medieval. Completely, irredeemably medieval.
Of course, she'd expected it. But living it—seeing horses and carts instead of cars, oil lanterns instead of electric lights—was a different kind of shock.
Internet. I miss internet. Reddit. YouTube. Even shitty social media. ANYTHING with a connection.
"You know," Lucia said suddenly, sitting beside her, "that cute little creature from the other day..." She shivered. "It scared me so much I completely skipped my long incantation. I just... yelled my buff without thinking."
Cassian turned to her, snapping out of her thoughts. "Wait. Why do you need to incant? I've never done that."
Lucia blinked, surprised. "Really? But... oh, right. Elves and humans are different."
Lena, sitting on the other side of the fountain cleaning her sword, chimed in without looking up. "Humans need to visualize their magic. Incantation helps with that. The longer it is, the more details, the more the magic matches what you want."
"It's not the length of the incantation that matters," Lucia corrected with a small smile. "It's the quality. Precise details. You can have a short incantation but incredibly detailed."
"Only the most powerful mana users can simplify incantations to a few words," Lena added. "Or even one word. Because their intent is so strong, so clear, that mana obeys without needing detailed instructions."
Lucia nodded. "But sometimes less powerful people manage it too. Usually under strong emotions—fear, anger, desperation. It forces magic to respond even without a full incantation. But that's a tiny minority."
She smiled proudly. "I've always been told I have talent."
Interesting, Cassian thought. So elves don't need to incant because we have a natural link to mana. But humans literally have to explain what they want.
"There are different ways to incant too," Lena continued, inspecting her blade's edge. "Songs, poems, direct commands... Some mages have really creative styles."
"It can be done mentally," Lucia specified, "but speaking it aloud has more effect. Sound reinforces intent."
She paused, then added with a touch of reverence, "Priestesses of the Sun God's Temple incant in a unique language. Instead of using our own mana, we draw directly from the Sun God's. It's... magnificent."
"Okay, stop." Cassian raised her hands. "Too much info. My brain's going to explode."
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Lena laughed. "You asked!"
"I asked why you incant, not a full lecture on magic theory!"
"Well, now you know!" Lucia smiled cheerfully.
Approaching footsteps made them all turn. Hiro was coming, grinning widely. In his hand, he held a visibly heavy pouch.
"Mission accomplished," he announced. "I turned in the quest at the Guild. And here's our reward."
He opened the storage ring and pulled out several pouches. "Your shares, ladies."
Gold coins gleamed under the double suns.
Gold. Just gold. No bills, no credit cards. Just physical gold.
Cassian took her pouch, weighing it. Heavy.
"It's the same amount for everyone," Hiro explained. "We split equally."
"Thanks." Cassian stood. "I'm going to find some new clothes. What I'm wearing is seriously starting to bother me."
"Want us to come with?" Lucia asked.
"No, it's fine." Cassian waved her hand. "I'll just look around. Meet back at the inn later?"
"Yeah, we'll wait there," Hiro confirmed.
---
Cassian walked the cobblestone streets, a cold smile on her lips.
As if I'm coming back.
Her plan was simple: buy decent clothes, maybe some supplies, and vanish. Disappear into the wild before the group realized she was gone.
Thanks for getting me out of the Cursed Lands, guys. But I'm traveling solo now.
She'd learned that on this continent, there was only one currency: gold coins. Nothing smaller, nothing larger. Apparently, that's how it had always been.
A clothing shop appeared on her right—a modest boutique with robes and tunics displayed in the window.
Perfect.
She headed for the entrance.
And collided with someone.
"OW!"
A figure in a large hooded cloak stumbled backward. A mask—white, smooth, featureless—fell to the ground with a clack.
"Watch where you're going, asshole!" Cassian snapped, rubbing her shoulder.
"Sorry, sorry!" The voice was male. He immediately bent to pick up his mask.
Cassian was about to keep walking when something caught her eye.
A wanted poster. Pasted on a wall a few meters away.
[WANTED – DEAD OR ALIVE]
[REWARD: 20,000 Gold Coins]
And a portrait. Crudely drawn, but recognizable.
Cassian looked at the poster. Then at the hooded man picking up his mask.
The man looked at the poster. Then at Cassian.
The same face. Exactly the same.
20,000 gold coins.
Their eyes locked.
Cassian realized he'd realized she'd realized.
He realized she'd realized he'd realized she'd realized.
They stared. For long, long seconds.
"Hey, look at those two!" a passerby laughed, pointing at them. "It's like love at first sight! They can't stop staring!"
Another passerby chuckled. "Young love. So cute."
If only they knew, Cassian thought, not breaking eye contact.
Someone bumped into her.
"Ah! Sorry!"
A young man, apologetic smile—walking away quickly.
"Watch it, damn it!" Cassian yelled, irritated.
The man started standing, replacing his mask on his face. "Listen," he said calmly, "forget me. Act like you never saw me. We part ways. You live your life, I live mine. Deal?"
Cassian opened her mouth to reply.
Then froze.
Her hand held nothing.
My pouch.
MY POUCH.
She spun violently, scanning the crowd. The young man—who'd bumped her—was now twenty meters away, picking up speed.
"THAT LITTLE BASTARD STOLE FROM ME!"
The man sighed. "Not my problem." He turned away.
Cassian looked at the man. Then the thief. The man. The thief.
Think. Fast.
The masked man: 20,000 gold coins. If he has that high a bounty, there's a reason. He's dangerous.
The thief: My pouch. Not dangerous—just a street pickpocket. Much safer target.
Rational choice: let the masked guy go. Chase the thief.
"GET BACK HERE, ASSHOLE!"
She launched after the thief, who immediately broke into a full sprint.
---
They ran.
Through streets. Alleys. Crowded market squares where Cassian had to dodge stalls and pedestrians.
"STOP!"
The thief was fast. But Cassian was determined.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. The thief tried to lose her—sharp turns, jumping obstacles, slipping through narrow gaps.
Cassian followed every move.
Finally, he stopped, collapsing against a wall, hands on knees, panting violently.
"You're... you're CRAZY!" He stared at her in disbelief. "No one... no one chases that far!"
Cassian stopped too, equally out of breath, but her face twisted in rage. "That's... your fault... asshole. You never should've... stolen from me."
She advanced slowly, fists clenching.
The thief backed up. "Wait... wait, we can talk about this..."
"Talk?!" Cassian advanced faster. "I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU REGRET THE DAY YOU WERE BORN!"
"YOU'RE A STUBBORN IDIOT!"
"YOU'RE THE STUBBORN IDIOT!"
The thief turned, looking for an escape. He spotted a dark alley to his right and bolted into it.
In the brief moment Cassian lost sight of him—just a second in the alley's shadow—she heard an impact.
"OOF!"
When she rounded the corner, she saw...
Five men. Tall. Muscled. Dressed like lowlife thugs.
And the thief, pinned against the wall, Cassian's pouch in one of the thugs' hands.
"Well, well," the biggest one sneered, inspecting the pouch. "Thanks for the delivery, kid."
"It's... it's mine!" the thief protested.
"Was yours. Now it's ours."
Cassian stood at the alley entrance, staring at the scene.
Of course. OF COURSE. Why does every situation always get worse?
