Letter.

It hurts... No matter what I do... It hurts... My neck...

Smoke surrounded me, the thick air forcing me to my knees. I fall next to my collapsed sister. I clutch at my neck, no matter what I do... it hurts. I scratch my neck, but it isn't a fault with the skin, but rather the insides. Thick, black clouds force their way down my throat and into my nostrils, burning and searing the inside of my neck.

I cough, I gasp, I scratch. Pain, agony... Stuck underground, the unconscious body of my younger sister serving a constant reminder of the despair I had fallen into. In the dark abyss of what used to be a memory, I look up, towards the flight of stairs that should've lit to freedom.

A light sat, yes... A light, yet not to freedom. It was a red, bright, crackling one. Destroying all that stood in its path, it deteriorated and disintegrated all. Leaving nothing but ash and crumbling hopelessness in its path. Surrounding me, the source of the tormenting black clouds, was the fire. Burning what was once a sign of tomorrow, what was once our granted belief of nourishment.

Beneath the abode I would cherish every moment within, I lay, vision blurring, body numbing, and breath heavy. Resting over the unconscious torso of my sister, I reach my hand, attempting for her head, a last attempt for what might've been an act of love. Yet, it fails. Betraying my determination, falling short of the fair skin of my sister's cheek, it drops to the ground, greeted by warmth. A warm, crimson liquid pool surrounded her head, expanding away from it.

I might've been shocked, I might've shouted too, but... It was too late I had breathed in too much of the torturous clouds. 

 I recall the despair that plagued our parents--the anxious voicing of my mother, the despairful gaze of my father. Leaving me with only a couple of words, they had thrown us right into hell. 

My body heats up, sweat covering every inch of me. My arms were fully numb, not even a finger twitching. My nose was losing its ability, allowing me a final whiff of the only smell left within this burnt basement, that of rusted iron. My eyelids turn heavy, unable to even face my dying sister.

As my consciousness fades, I'm reminded of my mother's last sorrowful words 

"Take care of your sister."

7-years since Lena's departure.

With a blink, Lena started the day.

A welcoming morning: chirping birds, rustling leaves, running water, and blowing wind—an occurrence she had called the song of nature.

Pushing herself upwards, she stretched her numbed arms. She lifted her gaze, facing the shallow sunlight filtered by the beds of leaves. Stronger than anticipated, she is forced to raise an arm blocking the sudden flash. Noting the bagging of her long sleeves as they fall to her shoulder.

Her arm's skin now exposed, the action had reminded her of the warmth her body was under.

Taking a second to shiver, she looked around her. Strolling over to the white ash left behind from the campfire, Lena stomps over it a few times, then kicks dirt onto it for extra measure. She had already let it out last night, but it was a habit of extra caution she practiced for no apparent reason.

Yawning she stumbled over to the luggage. Rummaging through clumps of items, she finds her searchings at the bottom. Pulling it out, she turns over heading for the stream nearby. Passing the makeshift camp, her gaze was stolen for a moment. Not by the man she followed for so long, but rather by an unusual animal to his side.

Another... Lena mentally noted as she continued towards the stream.

In her left a piece of cloth, and in her right a washboard. Plunging both into the flowing water, she cringes immediately. A part of it due to the sudden cool, and the majority due to her now wet sleeves. Eyeing the sudden mild discomfort, she places both items to the side and pulls up her sleeves, plunging again.

Repeatedly scrubbing, Lena became one with the water as her hands grew accustomed to its coolness. Done with the first, a glance to the side reminded her of the mountain she still had to go through. 

Traversing the woods, Lena could sense the greenery beneath her. In one hand carrying the wet cloth and washboard, in the other sticks she picked up along the way. Arriving at the camp, she finds the man still fast asleep. Lena places the tangle of clothes over her makeshift pillow, making sure that as little of it touches the dirt beneath.

Digging through the luggage once more, she takes out a pile of firewood. The sticks she had collected first beneath, and then the firewood atop. Pot to her right, Lena sat cross-legged before the organized firepit but unlit. Eyeing it for a moment, she snapped a finger setting it ablaze. Though lasting for but a moment, as her use of magic was much too amateurish to light firewood by itself--that and her belief of natural fire's consistency improving her work.

Once she had found the firewood crackling satisfyingly, she placed the pot over it. Taking her time, she worked diligently on the contents of the pot. With a satisfied nod, Lena placed a lid over and stood up, believing it was about time she addressed the little thing.

Ambling over to the fast-asleep man, a pigeon sat to his right ear cocking its head.

Lena squatted down and reached an index over to the pigeon. Carefully tapping it, then running the tip of her finger over its weak yet comforting feathery scalp, she pet the little thing and then reached for the letter strapped on it allowing the pigeon its departure.

Lena eyed the paper, her fingers sensing the quality of the material. It was not good ol' regular paper, and neither were most of the letters that had arrived this way. Ever since she had followed Octan, these letters have arrived from time to time. Octan had quickly discarded all of them, stating that not once had he imbued his mana into any paper or material for one to be addressed to him.

Lena had never been within a normal community, nor had she ever experienced regular occurrences to state what is ordinary and what isn't. However, even with what little passing knowledge she gathers from overhearing conversations, or while at the market, she could deduct that a trace letter being wrongly addressed is simply impossible.

Yet, there it was right before her.

Lena eyed the letter, and as always, decided not to dwell on it much longer, instead sliding it into her pocket until Octan woke. Turning back to the fire, she embraces the tranquility given by the crackling fire.

"Humanity, huh." Octan scoffed, reading the letter much to Lena's surprise. "So, it's that time already..."

Having spent the last 4 years with nothing in mind must have finally forced a change, as he had entertained the paper instead of immediately burning it or throwing it away.

"Hey," Octan raised his head to Lena. "Read it."  He handed the letter to Lena.

Lena nodded, Taking the letter and going through its contents.

As Lena went through the letter, Octan had added bits of information she couldn't have figured out by herself.

"The letter is addressed to the rankers of the adventurer's guild. It's a mass request letter, where if one accepts, the others will burn up, leaving only the accepted. Of course, they could trace back to the letter--that is the main purpose of the material--so simply accepting and then not showing up wouldn't slide."

Lena accepted his information in silence, going through the letter.

"And, accepting then throwing it away wouldn't work, as I would bet they would be able to tell which letter was the one last had its bind cut out. Bind being the trace of mana."

Lena finished the letter and handed it back to Octan.

"I will leave it up to you, kid," Octan said. "Whether to go or not that is."

Lena faced the man, thinking back to what the letter had said. The well-calligraphed and written letter, the fine ink of its print atop the exceptionally extravagant material. All for a simple message:

"Ranked Adventurers,

The Demon Lord's army has been spotted. The first line of defense was placed in Calico village. Humanity once again asks for your support in these times.

The Battle is predicted to take place in Three months' time. 

-Adventurers' guild."

She carefully considered its words—simple yet meaningful. Lena found the author to be in a surprisingly meek position; instead of issuing orders, they opted to ask. Although ranked adventurers were the guild's main source of power, it was apparent from the letter that the guild was not in complete control.

Lena called back to the ranked adventurer she had once met, Kolidas. She had never seen him personally in combat, but his stuck-up personality had painted a not-so-positive image for the rest.

Yet, this wasn't a question about The Ranked. She is supposed to take their place, to see herself as one, and find the letter's content either worthy of her supposed high-value time or not.

But... That too wasn't her. She was... Lena, however even that she found difficulty in expressing. 

She faced the man. He faced her back. His expression that of a docile cat. Neither pushing nor pulling. Neither aggressive nor friendly. Neither satisfied nor malcontent. He simply existed before her.

Lena thought over the letter's words once more.

An ultimatum. A dilemma. A simple yes or no.

And soon, she found no reason to dwell, coming to her conclusion.

Finally...

Lena nodded.

"Let us go," Lena said.

"If that is your decision." Octan jumped to his legs. "Three months is just time. By foot, it is just about right. A couple of stops throughout, and Three months will be enough."

Lena stood, having already prepared for departure. They had already had their morning meal before Octan decided to entertain the letter, thus they were ready to move. Octan walked over to the luggage, reached a hand in, and then quickly removed it, pulling out a writing pen. Pen in hand, he quickly draws a little check atop the paper, allowing a portion of its side to burn, confirming that he was the one to accept the request.

And so, with a bored Octan, and a conflicted Lena, they ventured towards the Village named Calico.

2 months and 16 days later.

Octan and Lena find themselves entering a town. It would be their final stop before reaching Calico village, with only a couple of days left in their journey. It was a mostly meaningless journey, with nothing of note to offer. A repeat of the usual monotonous life Lena had led. A simple morning, followed by a day of walking, then a peaceful night.

There was no change in the dynamic between the two, nor was there a reason for change. The sudden question by Octan was simply a manifestation of his boredom, that was what Lena believed. There was no reason to wonder.

Octan had sent Lena to the market to collect their necessities, while he went for the local adventurers' guild. He believed that some asking was in question. Being the closest guild branch to the defense line, they must be well-equipped with information about the battle.

Octan entered, and to his expectations, the place was a mess. Crowded adventurers shouting for recruitment and guild staff rushing around, as he would expect from a sign of war.

Ignoring all, Octan moved through the crowds towards the reception. An empty--not very welcoming--reception. No over-active smile to welcome him this time around.

He turned towards the crowd.

"Two warriors and a mage; looking for gold supporters!" "Gold mage looking for a party!" "Dungeon experienced, looking for a party!"

Despite the calls usually being placed over notices, the rush to collect valuable party members for the battle must've been beyond the guild's control.

Octan strolled over to one of the calling adventurers, standing before him.

"?" The adventurer cocked his head at the unordinary gesture. "You a heavy?"

"No," Octan said bluntly. "I do have a couple of questions though."

"That so?" The man said unsure what to make of the impassive individual. "I'm sure the guild's staff would be of much greater help." He turned away from Octan, going back to his shouting.

Octan did as advised and approached one of the guild's staff: a well-dressed woman stumbling with a comically lengthy stack of papers towering over her.

"When is the battle taking place?" Octan asked the woman, matching her pace.

"I-it should be in about three weeks' time, adventurer," The woman said, fumbling over her words.

"What about the manpower, are we currently over or underpowered," Octan said.

"Underpowered, adventurer," The woman said trudging forward, "So please, if you are of iron or higher carving, do consider." She disappeared into the guild's back rooms, where only the staff were allowed.

Octan, finding the answers he wanted, attempted to leave the guild for the market. On his way, he stops for a moment to overview the guild's noticeboard. Walls and walls of paper, riddled with quests and dungeon excavations, yet not a single one accepted. From terrorized farms to horrified locals. 

It was to be expected, Octan believed, after all the current gold mine was the war. Being a participant in the line of defense would allow the adventurers the right to loot the carcasses. Even a regular soldier is of much higher value than higher-ranked beasts, as they are inhabitants of the Middlelands, their manacores are that much denser.

Octan strolled out of the establishment, finding peace in the tranquility of the village rather than the crowded guild. Moving towards the market, he allowed his stalker to follow.

Lena, wandering the market, was soon joined by Octan. He had suddenly entered without much of an announcement, never needing to announce himself either. While Octan handled vegetables, juggling one in hand, Lena had dawdled over to a separate stand to the side. It had a couple of accessories on display, not to her care as she only looked for the hairbands. her current one was much too aged to keep longer as she had gotten it around a year or two ago. 

Picking a bland, minimalistic, brown band, Lena handed the smiling lady a couple of coins. The woman thanked Lena, which she only slightly nodded her head to.

Turning back to Octan, paper bag in hand, he had finished his shopping. 

Octan nodded to the side, and Lena followed. Placing down the large bag, the two had awkwardly stood to the side of the crowded market, in between a small opening between stalls, the two stood.

Octan stood hands empty, simply watching the kid work, as Lena scoured through. Octan found a wooden crate to the side, ignoring the fact it could be for one of the stalls, he brought it over and sat waiting for the kid to finish.

Lena worked through the luggage, the crowded background of white noise filling the silence between them. Despite the attention-drawing situation they were in, both were much too impassive about the ordeal, Lena found no reason, or rather never understood the concept, to be embarrassed, and Octan simply didn't care. He had no image to uphold, as this too would just be another town to forget once the battle was over.

Soon, the pair is approached, rather, Octan is approached. Lena still deep into the bag, was only able to make out the sound of conversation between Octan and the stranger.

"Hello," A cheery voice said. "You two are a party, right?! Heading out to Calico?" From what Lena could tell, the voice belonged to a woman, one who was a bit too excited about her inquiry.

Octan didn't reply, yet Lena could hear the woman positively light up, she surmised that he must've nodded.

"Would you allow me to join you?" The perky voice said. "I'm a supporter, I can be of help even if a little!"

Lena ignored the exchange, as it was not unheard of. Plenty had come witness to Octan's triumphs beforehand, and many had requested to come under his hand, whether out of respect or in pursuit of his knowledge. And all were denied. The first time had surprised her, as she questioned in thought why he would allow her to follow, but not the well-versed adventurer. The rest were simply routine, with a quick denial Octan and Lena would leave, allowing the person no other chance, or opening.

So, she believed, this would be no different.

Yet, it seems her beliefs weren't of credibility.

"Sure," Octan agreed.

Lena, still head deep into the luggage, was stunned by the sudden reveal. Snapping back to reality by the joyful cheers of the accepted woman.

"Thank you!" She cheered. "You will not regret it, I might be iron but I know many tricks!"

Octan didn't reply to her, simply allowing the woman to hum a joy-filled melody.

It was true that since, and slightly before, the traced letter Octan had started acting differently even if negligably. Not that he was changing, but rather that he was coming to sudden uncharacteristic decisions and actions. As if--if but for a moment--he was not himself.

And, as always, Lena immediately dismissed her train of thought, calling it off thinking she hadn't even known the first thing about the man anyway.

Now, a party of three. One stood humming in joy, one watching indifferently, and one digging through mountains of travel luggage. 

They were about to embark on an adventure.