The guild hall doors slammed open with a reverberating thud, cutting through the usual clamor like a blade. Three templars stood framed in the doorway, their pristine and immaculate white-and-gold robes practically glowing against the interior. Their expressions serene masks over steel-edged intent.

  The lead templar—a woman with piercing violet eyes and a smile that didn’t reach them—stepped forward, her voice smooth as polished marble.

  "We’ve come for the blessed one."

  Silence

  Every adventurer in the hall froze mid-motion and turned to look at the templars, some shielding their eyes from the intense light radiating from them.

  Sora’s feathers puffed up instinctively, his golden eyes widening as their gazes swept over the crowd.

  How did they get here so fast?!

  Then—

  "You just missed them," Creed said casually, shifting his stance just enough to block Sora from view, his tone remained light, almost bored. "Left not even five minutes ago. Real shame."

  His fingers twitched behind his back—a signal.

  Mikalien, quicker than anyone expected from a halfling perpetually covered in alchemical stains, yanked a vial from her belt and crushed it underfoot.

  A cloud of shimmering mist erupted, swirling around Sora. It clung to his feathers, his skin, his magic—smothering the divine radiance beneath a veneer of mundane aura.

  Mana-masking potion. Expensive. Illegal in seven kingdoms.

  Thank the gods for crazy alchemists.

  The lead templar’s smile didn’t waver, but her eyes hardened. "How unfortunate. Might we inquire as to their description?"

  Fiara leaned against the bar, claws tapping the wood. "Tall. Robes. Really into hymns. You know, templar vibes."

  Creed's eyebrow raised with a subtle twitch as he mentally shouted at Fiara. Real smooth they are definitely not falling for that.

  Creed cleared his throat. "What she’s trying to say, Miss, is that they are a human. They have brown hair. A little thin. And is wearing a robe."

  The templar’s gaze swept the room—lingering on Mutarea’s hammer, on Mikalien’s glowing vials, on the harpy-shaped blur half-hidden behind Creed.

  The templars’ brows furrowed as her divine senses brushed over the room—and slid right past Sora, as if he were just another mundane creature.

  After a few more pointed questions (and Linda’s expertly feigned irritation at the interruption), the templars finally left—though two lingered outside, their watchful gazes scanning the street.

  “Pity,” the lead templar murmured. “We would have welcomed them with open arms.”

  Linda, leaning against the reception desk, gave a dry chuckle. “I’m sure you would have.”

  Then, with a grace that screamed this isn’t over, she bowed.

  "Very well, Should the blessed one return... guide them to us. The Church rewards loyalty after all a blessed one is a gift from the heavens."

  For a tense moment, no one moved. Then, with a final polite nod, the templars turned and left—though a few lingered outside, their presence like a shadow over the guild’s doorstep. The door shut behind them with a click that sounded too much like a lock engaging.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  The moment the guild doors slammed shut behind the templars, the entire room seemed to exhale at once.

  Creed didn’t move from his protective stance in front of Sora until the last echo of gold-trimmed boots faded down the street. Before slumping on a nearby chair and exhaling.

  Fiara groaned. 'Holy shit they were fast."

  "Yeah, that was close," Mikalien exhaled.

  Linda pinched the bridge of her nose. "They’ll be back. And next time, they won’t be so polite." She then sighed, before moving her hands to massage her temples. “We need a more permanent solution. Sora can’t stay in the city—not with the Church sniffing around.”

  Creed nodded. “The forest, then. Plenty of places to hide, and close enough to the guild for supply runs.”

  Mikalien, already scribbling notes, grinned. “I’ll whip up some concealment potions. And maybe a few surprises for any templars who get too curious.”

  Sora chirped weakly. So… I’m being exiled to the woods?

  Fiara ruffled his feathers. “Think of it as a vacation. Fresh air, no templars, and all the bugs you can eat.”

  Sora gave her a flat look.

  “Kidding. Mostly.”

  <> ? <>

  The forest’s edge was quiet, the towering trees casting long shadows as Mikalien and Sora set off on a gathering quest—officially to collect herbs, unofficially to keep Sora out of sight.

  Mikalien chattered away, her small hands plucking leaves and roots with practiced ease. “See, the trick is to find the blue mushrooms, not the purple ones. Unless you want to hallucinate for three days straight. Which, honestly, I don’t recommend. Unless you’re into that.”

  Sora nodded absently, his mind elsewhere. The forest was peaceful, but the weight of the templars’ presence still hung over him.

  How long can I keep running? Im already tired of this

  Meanwhile, deeper in the woods, Creed, Fiara, and Mutarea scouted for a safe place to set up camp—somewhere hidden, defensible, and far enough from the city to avoid prying eyes.

  halfling alchemist hummed to herself, carefully tucking the herbs into her pouch while rambling about the properties of moonroot.

  "—and if you mix it with crushed firepepper, it makes a fantastic explosive. Not that I’d know from personal experience, of course," she added with a wink.

  Sora chirped in amusement, his golden eyes scanning the treeline. That’s when he saw it.

  A small, furry creature—no bigger than a house cat—perched on a low branch. Its beady eyes gleamed with mischief, and clutched in its tiny paws was their entire satchel of materials.

  "CHIRP?!" HEY!

  The creature—some kind of monkey with a tail twice its body length—grinned, showing off a row of needle-like teeth. Then, with a flick of its tail, it vanished into the canopy.

  Mikalien gasped. "That little thief! After it!"

  Sora didn’t need to be told twice. His wings flared, and he launched himself into the trees, talons scraping bark as he vaulted from branch to branch. The monkey chittered ahead, darting through the foliage with unnatural agility.

  Oh, you are NOT getting away with this!

  The chase was a blur of leaves and laughter—Mikalien’s cackles echoed from below as she sprinted after them, her tiny legs pumping furiously. "Chirp! Left! LEFT!"

  Sora swerved, narrowly avoiding a low-hanging branch. The monkey glanced back, its grin widening as it swung its tail tauntingly—just out of reach.

  Then, without warning, it leaped into a thicket of vines… and disappeared.

  Sora skidded to a halt, panting. Where’d it—?

  A rustle.

  He spun just in time to see the monkey’s tail flicker into a hollowed-out tree trunk.

  Got you.

  Creeping forward, Sora peered inside—and froze.

  The hollow wasn’t empty.

  Piled high inside were dozens of stolen goods: shiny trinkets, guild badges, even a pair of spectacles. And sitting atop the hoard like a tiny, self-satisfied king?

  The monkey.

  It held up the satchel, tilting its head as if to say, Trade?

  Sora’s golden eyes locked onto the thieving monkey, his talons flexing. The creature had the audacity to grin, still clutching their stolen satchel like a trophy.

  Oh no you don’t.

  With a sudden lunge, Sora snatched the monkey by its scruff. The little beast shrieked, flailing its limbs as Sora dangled it upside down.

  "SCREEEEE—!"

  The monkey’s cries echoed through the forest, sending birds bursting from the treetops in a flurry of wings. Sora gave it a firm shake.

  Give. It. Back.

  The monkey, realizing it was thoroughly outmatched, reluctantly released the satchel with a pitiful whimper. Sora dropped it unceremoniously.

  The creature flailed dramatically, as if being robbed of its ill-gotten treasures was the greatest injustice in the world, before scampering up a tree with an indignant flick of its tail.

  Mikalien finally caught up, panting, her cheeks flushed. "Di-Did you get it."

  Sora chirped a firm yes, nodding and tossed her the satchel.

  "At least we got these back," Mikalien muttered, stuffing the herbs into her pouch.

  She then began peering into the hollow tree. “Oho! Look at all this loot!”

  The trunk was a treasure trove of stolen goods—guild badges, a tarnished pocket watch, a single left boot, and what looked suspiciously like a nobleman’s signet ring. Mikalien’s eyes gleamed. “This little bandit’s been busy.”

  They spent the next few minutes organizing the haul, separating what might be useful from the ring, a few intact potion vials to the utterly bizarre a dried-out squid, three mismatched socks.

  Then Sora straightened, glancing around.

  The forest looked… different.

  The trees loomed taller, their gnarled roots twisting into unfamiliar shapes. The sunlight, once dappled and golden, now filtered through the leaves in eerie, shifting patterns.

  Mikalien froze mid-pocket-pick. “…Uh. Sora?”

  A slow, creeping realization settled over them.

  They were lost.

  Not just turned-around lost.

  Deep, ancient woods where people vanish forever lost.

  Mikalien cleared her throat. “Okay. No panic. We just… follow the moss. Or the stars. Or—”

  Mikalien then realized this isn’t the forest near Tempest City.

  The trees here were wrong—older, thicker, their bark etched with faint, glowing runes that pulsed like a slow heartbeat. The air hummed with a quiet, ancient magic, and the distant calls of birds sounded nothing like the species from the Floating Isles.

  Mikalien, ever the scholar, gasped. "Oh, wow—is that silverleaf? That only grows in the Briza Labyrinth! But that’s impossible—we’re on the wrong side of the—"

  A branch snapped.

  Not from above.

  From behind.

  Sora’s wings bristled as he slowly turned.

  The undergrowth rustled—something big was moving just beyond the thicket.

  Then, a voice:

  “You two look terribly misplaced.”

  A figure stepped into the light—tall, clad in a cloak of woven silk and leaves, their eyes glowing faintly green.

  An elf.

  But not from any city.

  From the Great forest Labyrinth Briza.

  She froze.

  Sora’s feathers stood on end.

  Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a certain being echoed a giggle.