The HEALER, THE QUEEN AND THE STEEL SECRET

The glow of the runes danced on the dark steel of the dagger. Asimil gazed at it, fascinated and repelled in equal parts, while Sacres, with a jeweler's loupe, examined the strange inscriptions engraved on the blade.

— It's strange — repeated Sacres, putting down the magnifying glass. I have tried to use a high level Identification Scroll, but the result is always the same:— an empty answer, a blank page". It is as if it existed outside the rules of this world. The runes do not belong to any known forge in the seventeen regions. —

— So what do I do with it? — Asimil asked, frustration tingeing his voice. — Is it just an expensive paperweight with absurd requirements? —

— Not yet — Sacres corrected. — Some weapons do not choose their bearer for their strength, but for their purpose. Guard it well. I sense that her story and yours have just begun. —

A soft and completely monotonous voice interrupted his analysis.— May I interrupt this moment of philosophical contemplation on pointed objects? —

Standing in the doorway of the workshop was Lyra, the lavender-haired healer. Her face was as serene and expressionless as a marble statue, which made her words, often laden with dry humor, all the more disconcerting.

— Lyra, come in — Sacres invited her. — Asimil, this is Lyra. I don't think they were properly introduced in the infirmary. —

— Nice to meet you in a state of uprightness and awareness — said Lyra, tilting her head toward Asimil. — The last time I saw you, you were snoring and, if my diagnosis is correct, drooling a bit. You look better now. That's progress. —

Asimil felt the heat rise in his neck, mumbling a greeting as Lyra examined him with a clinical gaze. To change the subject, he pointed to the dagger. — We were watching this. The Pit Award. —

Lyra approached. Her expressionless face bent over the weapon. But the instant her amber eyes rested on the blade, she frowned ever so slightly and brought a hand to her temple, a sudden wince of pain.

— Lyra, are you all right? — asked Sacres, alarmed.

— No —she replied, just as calmly. — I just experienced the sensation of licking an electro slime. I don't recommend it. Zero out of five stars. —

a saccharine comment came out of her mouth in a mocking tone —  Have you ever tried a slime? —

His serious gaze was fixed on Asimil. — This thing is not empty. It has an echo. I feel... fury. And an infinite sadness. Like a broken promise at the end of the world. I advise you to get rid of it, unless you want to develop a nervous tic and an irrational fear of silverware. You'll see. —

Just then, the door to the workshop burst open. — Hey, you two bores! Are you going to spend the whole day cooped up in here? — Ikel burst in, closely followed by Noelia. 

Noelia, whose elemental runes now glowed softly in her gauntlets, stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Lyra so close to Asimil. Lyra looked up from the dagger and her eyes met those of the Elemental Queen. An electric silence filled the room. Lyra's gaze was analytical, as if diagnosing Noelia's troubled soul. Noelia, in turn, felt that gaze as an intrusion and responded with icy, instant hostility.

— Well — said Sacres, breaking the tension. Lyra, what a surprise to see you here.

— Vacation — Lyra replied expressionlessly. — I heard rumors of a new "disease" that turns people into a dark liquid. It sounded like an interesting tourist destination. —

—  Well, before you go hunting for that one, let's celebrate that we're all in one piece! Let's go shopping at the citadel! You get paid! —

After a brief, lost discussion, Sacres sighed and agreed. The group set out into the bustling streets. had changed. Noelia, who seemed intent on walking alongside Asimil to continue their strange dynamic of challenges and silences, was thwarted. Lyra, with disarming naturalness, had slipped in beside Asimil.

— So, you're the famous rookie they whisper about in the clan — said Lyra, her tone that of a weather commentator. — Your tactic in the Pit of using your face to receive attacks and thus reveal the enemy's position was... innovative. —

— I didn't do that! — Asimil protested, completely blushing.

— Of course not — she said, impassively. — It was a joke. Its humorous effectiveness is debatable. —

Noelia walked a step behind, listening to the strange conversation, a storm of irritation brewing behind her facade of indifference.

In the evening, they ended up at the tavern "The Yawning Dragon". Lyra, true to her word, ordered a luminous herbal tea and began telling stories of her travels in a monotone that made the most epic exploits sound like a grocery list.

 — ...and then the magma dragon incinerated the village. It was a considerable logistical inconvenience. We had to rebuild the aqueduct. The hero of the legend, of course, sacrificed himself to give his world a second chance. A tragedy, I suppose. They gave him a posthumous medal and named a salad after him. Pretty tasteless, by the way. —

At the words "hero," "sacrifice," and "second chance," Asimil froze. The decanter of mead stopped halfway to his lips and fell to the table with a thud, splashing liquid. The sense of déjà vu was so overwhelming that the world seemed to fade away.

— Hey, buddy, are you all right? — asked Ikel, worried.

Asimil blinked, coming to his senses. — I... I need to get some fresh air. —

He walked out onto the terrace. A few minutes later, Lyra joined him.

— Congratulations — she said, her face serious.

— Why? —

— You have unlocked the achievement "Premature Existential Trauma". The award is more confusion. — She looked at him, and for the first time, her seriousness seemed to contain a hint of genuine understanding. — Sometimes souls remember what minds forget. Yours seems to have made several trips back and forth to many. —

—  What am I supposed to do? —  Asimil asked, his voice a desperate whisper.

—Survive. And looking for answers — she replied. — I know someone. A girl. Her name is Luce. Her level of chaotic energy is probably compatible with your level of existential melancholy. The synergy could be... interesting. Or explosive. She also fights ghosts. Maybe you should compare notes sometime. —

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod and went back inside, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Or so he thought.

Hiding in the shadows of a nearby balcony, Noelia had seen it all. The ease with which that strange healer spoke to him. The way Asimil seemed to trust her. The way her own chance to talk to him had been taken away from her. He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, and a sour, unfamiliar feeling, one he had never felt before, twisted in his stomach.

She turned and disappeared into the night, an elemental queen whose dominion over the elements was of no use against the storm that was beginning to brew in her own heart.