Rain stipples the cobbles of a narrow market lane, and a child-sized figure stands where a great shadow should be. Tarran is wrong for the world now, small and fragile in the middle of wet carts, hanging lanterns, and staring townsfolk.
Her mouth is full of hunger.
A fishmonger’s stall sits nearby, silver bodies glinting on crushed ice, the smell sharp enough to cut through the rain.
The crowd pulls back in a single shuddering wave. A cloaked woman steps forward anyway, one hand raised, the other gripping a staff carved with old runes.
Seralynd
Easy now, little one. If you can understand me, do not take another step.
She plants the staff between herself and Tarran, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the girl with the careful look of someone bargaining with a storm.
Seralynd
I am Seralynd of the river shrine. You were transformed by a spiteful charm, and I can see the curse on you. Come with me, or the town guards will come with ropes and torches.
Behind her, the fishmonger snatches up a cleaver. Somewhere farther down the lane, a bell begins to ring.
✓ Quest Accepted
Survive the market lane
“I reach out a trembling hand toward Seralynd and take a step toward her.”
SUCCESS (Fair Agility, rolled +3)
Tarran lifts a trembling hand and steps toward Seralynd. The lane seems to hold its breath.
Seralynd
Good. Keep that hand where I can see it, and come slowly.
Seralynd lowers her raised palm by a fraction, not in trust, but in invitation. Her staff stays planted between them.
Seralynd
I know that look. Hunger is a cruel jailer, and curses make fools of the hungry.
Tarran’s hand reaches her cloak, then her wrist. No blade flashes, no rope snaps, only wet wool under small fingers.
Seralynd
There. You are still here. That matters more than the shouting.
Behind them, the fishmonger hesitates with his cleaver half-raised, watching the distance between them shrink instead of explode.
“I keep my hands visible and stay with Seralynd”
FAILURE (Terrible Willpower, rolled -1)
Tarran keeps both hands lifted at shoulder height, small and open, while she stays close to Seralynd’s side. The rain taps softly on cloak and sleeve, and the lane does not lurch into panic.
Seralynd
Good. Stay near me. People fear what they cannot read, and right now you look like a child in trouble, not a monster in the street.
Seralynd shifts one step nearer, angling her staff between Tarran and the fish stall like a shepherd closing a gate. Her voice softens without losing its edge.
Seralynd
If you can, nod when you want something. Point when words fail. I will take that over a scream, any day.
The Fishmonger
Aye, and if she stays with you, keep her away from my knives. I’ve no wish to explain to the guild how my lunch becomes a legend.
The fishmonger’s grip loosens another notch. He does not lower the cleaver fully, but his shoulders drop as the distance between fear and action widens.
Seralynd
Come on, then. Walk with me, Tarran. We’ll find somewhere quieter before the whole lane decides to invent a story about you.
“I ask Seralynd to take me somewhere quiet”
FAILURE (Terrible Willpower, rolled -1)
Tarran
Take me somewhere quiet.
Seralynd
Then come. The lane has too many ears and too many sharp edges.
She turns her staff and her body at once, making a narrow space for Tarran to follow. The fishmonger watches, but he lets them pass.
Seralynd
There is an old shrine under the eaves a block over. It is damp, but it keeps secrets better than a crowd.
Seralynd
And if the curse stirs, better there than here, where panic spreads fast.
Rain ticks harder on the awnings as they start down the lane together. Behind them, the fishmonger exhales and turns back to his stall.
Seralynd
Stay close, Tarran. Quiet is easier to find than safety, but tonight I can give you the first.
Quest Complete
Survive the market lane
Attribute Upgrade: Willpower Terrible→Poor