Alchemara was still licking its wounds when the stranger arrived.
She came wrapped in desert silk, black boots crushing cinders, a long curved blade strapped to her back, and a look that said "I've seen worse than you." Her face bore two thin scars beneath each eye—perfectly symmetrical. Magical? Decorative? No one could tell.
Her name was Solara Vale.
The guards didn't know whether to bow or run.
Rico watched from the Sanctum Tower, arms folded. He didn't like mysteries he didn't create. Especially not ones that walked in like they owned the city.
"Who let her in?" he asked.
"She let herself in," said Zara, clearly impressed.
"She's a mercenary," Stitches added. "Worked with the Eastern Rebellion. Fought a fire-mage army using nothing but bone powder and arrogance."
"And rumor has it," Shard chirped, "she once killed a man just by insulting his magical technique."
Rico grunted. "Sounds dramatic."
The doors creaked open behind him.
"Rico Maldino," said a voice like sharp velvet. "You look shorter in person."
He turned.
Solara Vale leaned against the pillar, casual as rain, eyes flicking over him like she was appraising a tool—not a man.
"And you look overdressed for someone uninvited," Rico replied.
She smirked. "I came with a warning."
---
She dropped a charred satchel on the table. Inside: a decaying mask, fused to a human skull. The symbol of the Awakened etched deep.
"I took it off someone near the Obsidian River. They were scouting. Which means they're expanding."
"How do you know it wasn't just a rogue?" Zara asked.
Solara met her gaze. "Because before he died, he whispered Maldino's name like a curse."
Everyone went quiet.
Solara continued, "They want him. Badly. Whatever's coming, it's personal."
"I can handle personal," Rico muttered.
"Not alone you can't."
"Oh? And you plan to help?"
"I plan to lead."
---
The council exploded.
"She's arrogant!"
"She's right."
"She's dangerous!"
"She's what we need."
But Rico said nothing. He watched her. Studied how she moved, how she manipulated the room. Not magically. Strategically.
She was good.
Too good.
"Fine," he said finally. "One mission. You prove yourself, I'll listen."
Solara smiled. "I already proved myself by surviving this long. But sure—let's dance."
---
The mission was simple: investigate a broken leyline near the Sulfur Dunes. Intel said the Awakened were using it to feed their alchemic experiments.
Simple things rarely stay simple.
---
By dusk, they were knee-deep in corrupted sandworms, spell mines, and illusions that made Barkclaw punch a cactus.
And Solara?
She danced through it all.
Her blade was silent and swift. Her magic—a strange blend of shadow and sunfire—cut through mutated beasts like silk. Rico cast a barrier spell. She walked through it, unimpressed.
"She's showing off," he muttered.
"Yeah," Stitches said, "but it's working."
At the leyline's heart, they found a twisted ritual circle—Awakened runes burned into black glass. Rico stepped forward to disrupt it.
Solara stopped him.
"Don't touch that rune."
"Why not?"
"It'll collapse the entire dune and bury us."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"Try it and find out."
He didn't. He hated that she was right.
---
Back in Alchemara, Solara was offered her own quarters, but she refused.
"I sleep where I can see the sky. And the exit."
She sparred with Zara daily. Zara never won.
She insulted Shard's sense of fashion. Shard liked her immediately.
She beat Barkclaw in a drinking contest. Twice.
But Rico?
He watched her like a storm cloud—one he couldn't predict.
He didn't trust her.
He also couldn't stop thinking about her.
The way she moved. Spoke. Fought. Thought.
She was him, in a mirror with sharper edges.
---
One night, they found themselves alone on the rooftop, both unable to sleep.
"You don't like me," Solara said bluntly.
"I don't like what I can't read."
"I'm not a book, Rico. I'm a weapon."
"Then I want to know who forged you."
A pause.
"My father," she said quietly. "An alchemist who believed in purity. He died trying to turn me into something I'm not."
"What did he turn you into?"
She smiled faintly. "Something dangerous."
They sat in silence after that.
---
Over the next weeks, missions piled up. Awakened movements increased. Tensions in Alchemara rose. Rumors spread about a new Awakened general—a monster of glass and bone.
Rico and Solara fought side by side more often now.
They didn't always agree. They clashed constantly.
But they worked.
And slowly, something shifted.
She started letting him lead more. He started trusting her judgment—grudgingly.
She made sarcastic jokes. He almost smiled.
Almost.
And sometimes… when he wasn't looking, she looked at him like she saw something redeemable.
---
The twist came during the Siege of Hollow Ridge.
An ambush. Set up perfectly.
Too perfectly.
The Awakened had baited them.
As spells flew and beasts swarmed, Rico realized the only escape was to collapse the ridge—cutting them off but sacrificing anyone still behind enemy lines.
Solara was already holding the line.
"I'll stay," she said.
"No."
"You don't have time to argue. They need you more."
"I don't want to lose you." It slipped out.
She blinked.
He stepped forward. Grabbing her wrist.
She smiled softly.
"I know," she whispered. "And I wish we had more time."
She kissed his cheek. Then shoved him back with a blast of sunfire.
The cliff shattered.
Rico screamed.
---
They found her body days later.
Burned. Buried. Holding back a dozen Awakened corpses.
She'd died standing.
---
Rico didn't speak for a week.
Not during the council meetings. Not during the funeral. Not even when Shard placed Solara's sword in his hand.
"She trusted you," Zara said. "We all did."
Rico finally spoke.
"Then I can't stop."
---
He stood at the edge of the same rooftop where they'd first talked.
"She was better than me," he whispered to the wind. "And I didn't say it when it mattered."
He wiped his eyes. Gripped her blade.
"I'll finish what we started."
---