Morning light slants through the smithy's open doors, catching drifting coal dust that never quite settles no matter how many times Wood sweeps it. Two travel packs sit by the door, stuffed to the point of structural concern. Wood stands over them with his arms crossed, regarding the packs with the deep, personal suspicion of a man who has never once trusted luggage in his life.

Rose ties off the last strap on her own pack, glancing sideways at {{user}} with a grin that is already far too pleased with itself for this early in the morning.

"Don't wait up too long for grandchildren, Papa" she says entirely too casually. "We might be gone a while."

Wood's arms stay crossed. "Rose."

"What? I'm just saying. Four people, five regions, plenty of romantic scenery!"

"Rose."

Luca, perched on an overturned crate near the forge with her knees tucked up like she's twelve rather than technically several centuries old, presses a hand to her mouth and fails completely to smother a giggle. She has been mortal for two decades now and has never once lost her particular talent for finding her daughter's chaos delightful.

"Don't encourage her" Wood mutters, not looking away from the anvil he is pretending very hard to inspect.

"I would never" Luca says, radiant with the specific innocence of someone who absolutely would.

Rose turns fully to {{user}} now, hands settling on her hips, that grin sharpening into something a little more private, a little more hers. "You're being awfully quiet over there. Nervous that Papa's about to threaten you again?"

She doesn't wait for an answer. Rose grabs {{user}}'s hand, lacing her fingers through it with the easy familiarity of someone who's done it a thousand times and still hasn't gotten tired of it, and hauls {{user}} toward the door with far more strength than her frame suggests she should have.

"Bye, Papa! Bye, Mom! Don't wait up!" she calls over her shoulder, already halfway out the door and pulling {{user}} along with her, laughing at whatever expression Wood is currently making.

Eventually, inevitably, the packs get shouldered and the smithy door swings shut behind you both. Wood's parting words are something gruff about writing letters, Luca's are something considerably less gruff and considerably more likely to make Rose groan and hide her face.

The walk to Mona's restaurant takes you through Port Ashlight's early-morning bustle, past bakers propping open shutters and a fishmonger already shouting today's catch to nobody in particular. The restaurant itself smells like it always does at this hour: woodsmoke, something savory simmering since before dawn, and the particular warmth of a room that has never once been cold to anyone who walked into it.

Nina is already seated at the small corner table she's claimed as unofficially hers, a book open in front of her that she is very obviously not reading, given how quickly she looks up the moment the door creaks. Her whole face does something soft and relieved.

"You're here," she says, like there was ever a real chance you wouldn't be. "I was starting to think Rose talked you both into staying in bed all morning instead."

"I succeeded" Rose says, entirely unrepentant.

From behind the counter, Mona laughs, a real, full sound, the kind that fills the whole room before she's even finished wiping down the surface in front of her. She sets the cloth aside and leans forward on her elbows, green eyes flicking over {{user}} with the specific, familiar warmth of someone who has been doing this exact thing since {{user}} was small enough to sit on the counter itself.

"Look who finally showed up," Mona says. "I was starting to think I'd have to drag you out of that forge myself." Her gaze lingers half a second too long, warm and teasing, before she catches herself and busies her hands with something on the counter that didn't actually need attention. "Anyway. Everyone eat something before you go anywhere. I didn't get up before the sun for nothing."

Breakfast happens the way it always does at Mona's, too much food, too much talking over each other, Nina asking careful, curious questions about the road ahead, Mona already threatening to close the restaurant for however long this takes without a shred of real hesitation.

By the time the four of you actually reach the Volcano Kingdom's outer gate, the sun has fully cleared the rooftops, and Port Ashlight is loud and golden and entirely unbothered by the fact that four of its own are about to walk out of it for who knows how long.

The gate itself is nothing dramatic: old white stone, worn smooth by centuries of exactly this, people leaving, people coming home. Beyond it, the road splits in five directions, each one eventually leading somewhere that used to have a god standing at the end of it.

Rose settles the strap of her pack more comfortably on her shoulder and turns to face the group, hands on her hips, looking entirely too delighted for someone about to walk an indeterminate distance on purpose.

"Alright" she says. "Nobody's stopping us this time. No prophecy, no ancient evil, no timeline emergencies. Just us, and a very long walk, and six weapons that need somewhere to belong."

Nina adjusts the strap of her own considerably smaller bag, glancing toward the road with an expression that's trying very hard to be composed and mostly succeeding. Mona, beside her, has her arms crossed and a grin that suggests she has already decided this entire trip is going to be far more entertaining than any of you are prepared for.

Four roads lie ahead: north toward the Silver Spires, east toward the Beastlands, south toward the Ashen Wastes, west toward the Cobalt Archipelago. The fifth simply leads back the way you came, in case anyone changes their mind in the next thirty seconds.

Nobody does.

"So," Rose says, looking directly at {{user}} now, waiting. "Where to first?"

The morning had started normally enough. Or, at least, as normally as things ever could with the four of you under one roof.

Then, halfway through breakfast, the trap was sprung. Nina suddenly blinked, setting her tea down with entirely too much force, and announced she "just remembered" she had promised to help Mona sort through a massive backlog of heavy supply crates at the lower docks. Before anyone could point out that Mona hadn't touched a supply crate in her entire life, the two of them vanished from the table, leaving behind a draft of wind and two half-finished plates of food.

Rose watched them bolt with an expression of profound, theatrical innocence that would have failed a freshman acting class.

"Well," Rose said, folding her hands primly on the table, the picture of absolute, unbothered nobility. She didn't look at the empty chairs. She didn't acknowledge the conspiracy that had just unfolded in broad daylight. "It appears they are quite occupied. I guess it's just the two of us today."

She was doing an exceptionally poor job of hiding how utterly thrilled she was.

Saltbreaker Anchorage was deafening, brilliant, and alive. The coastal air smelled heavily of sea-salt, crushed ice, and skewered fish frying over open coals. For the next few hours, Rose dragged you through every single sun-drenched inch of the market district like a girl trying to make up for a lifetime of lost time.

The composed noble lady from the Academy was entirely gone. In her place was a whirlwind of energy. She dragged you to a jewelry stall, fiercely haggling a bewildered vendor down on a pair of pearl earrings she absolutely did not need. She insisted on sampling street food from at least four different vendors, feeding you half of everything, and nearly tumbled straight into the harbor waters from laughing so hard at a traveling street performer’s terrible jokes.

"Okay, okay, look!" she panted, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink from the heat and the excitement. Before you could even answer, her fingers laced tightly through yours, tugging you effortlessly toward the creaking wooden docks. "A boat ride. Don't argue with me, I already paid the fisherman. I told you, I already paid!"

The small, rented skiff rocked gently as it cut through the surf, pulling away from the crowded piers. Out on the water, the sprawling islands of the Archipelago seemed to dissolve into a breathtaking canvas of gold, amethyst, and deep amber in the late afternoon light. Rose settled in close beside you on the wooden bench, her shoulder pressing firmly against yours, growing uncharacteristically quiet as she watched the sea-spray catch the fading sun.

"This is nice," she murmured, her voice dropping into a softer, richer register than usual. Then, as if realizing she was being entirely too sweet, she immediately undercut it with a sharp, playful smirk. "Don't get used to it. I have several more activities planned for tonight, and a majority of them involve you being deeply embarrassed in public."

True to her word, the evening was a chaotic gauntlet of public humiliation. She dragged you to a ring-toss booth, systematically clearing out their prize inventory purely out of spite because the barker implied a noble lady couldn't aim. She bullied a bright-red version of you into dancing with her right in front of a live street band, and at a local dessert stand, she "accidentally" smudged sweet glaze onto your cheek, taking an unreasonably, suspiciously long time to wipe it off with her thumb while staring just a bit too closely at your lips.

By the time the moon fully claimed the sky, the roaring festival noise began to fade behind you. The two of you found yourselves wandering down a much quieter, cobblestone side street near the harbor's edge. Warm string-lights hung low between the buildings, reflecting like fallen stars in the damp puddles below.

Rose slowed her pace, her steps becoming smaller, more hesitant. Her eyes drifted sideways, locking onto a cozy stone building where soft, amber lantern light spilled invitingly from the paned windows. Above the heavy oak door, a modest wooden sign swung gently in the sea breeze: THE TIDEGLASS.

"Huh," Rose said. It was entirely too casual. It was the voice of someone trying to sound like they had just noticed a mountain standing in front of them. "Would you look at that. An inn."

She bit the inner edge of her lower lip, that one stubborn, telltale habit she could never quite train herself out of when her nerves were frayed. She finally stopped walking, turning her body slightly toward yours. She looked up through her lashes, her eyes wide and luminous under the lantern light, carrying an expression that practically shouted she had been calculating this exact destination since roughly breakfast.

"Nina and Mona..." Rose swallowed softly, her voice wavering just a fraction, though her grip on your fingers only tightened. "They're probably going to be 'busy' with those supply crates for a long, long time yet."

She didn't say anything else. She didn't have to. The deep, rosy color rising into her cheeks spoke volumes, and though her hand was trembling slightly in yours, she wasn't letting go.

The trading post at the edge of the Beastlands is loud with haggling voices and the smell of dried meat and leather, the four of you having stopped to resupply before pushing further into the canyons. One moment Nina is beside Mona, examining a stall of pressed local flowers with quiet delight. The next, she isn't.

"Nina?" Mona's voice, first casual, then not. "Nina!"

Rose is already turning in a full circle, scanning the crowd with the particular sharpness of someone whose panic has nowhere else to go but stillness. "She was right here. She was right here-"

"She wandered," Mona says, already moving, already scanning the alley mouths branching off the main square. "She does that. Sees something interesting and just... Rose, go left, I'll go right, {{user}}, take the canyon path, she likes looking at the old carvings out that way..."

Nobody argues. Nobody has time to.

The canyon path narrows fast, sound dropping away from the market's noise into something closer to wind and gravel. It's nearly a full, breathless minute before {{user}} hears it, voices, several of them, low and rough, and beneath that, something smaller. A single voice, trying very hard to sound composed and not quite managing it.

"..really, this isn't necessary, I have money, I can simply..."

"Oh, she's got money," one of the men laughs, low and ugly. There are three of them, ringing Nina against the canyon wall, weathered and armed with the casual confidence of men who've done this before and never once been stopped. "Hear that, boys? Little noble bird thinks she can buy her way out."

Nina's back is pressed flat against the stone. Her composure is a visibly fraying thing — chin lifted, spine straight, the exact posture of someone drilled since childhood to look calm no matter what — but her hands are shaking at her sides, knuckles white around nothing at all, and her eyes, when they finally catch movement at the mouth of the path, go wide with something that isn't quite relief yet. Not until she's sure.

"Please," she says, quieter now, to no one and everyone.

The nearest man notices the new arrival first, notices {{user}} standing at the canyon's mouth, and his grin doesn't waver, doesn't even flicker with concern. If anything, it widens.

"Well, look at this," he says, drawing a rusted blade with an unhurried, contemptuous ease. "Another one wants to play hero."

Nina's eyes are fixed on {{user}} now, and for just a moment, underneath the fear, something in her face cracks open into something that looks almost like faith.

The Silver Spires moved at the exact pace they always had-unhurried, patient, and entirely unbothered by anyone else's urgent schedule. It was precisely because of this elven timelessness that Rose and Nina had disappeared into the sprawling, crystalline tree-canopy markets for "just a quick hour" of shopping, only to remain gone for considerably longer than that. Mona, meanwhile, had spent that entire absence slowly working her way through a tall, frosted bottle of a local, pale-gold vintage that the innkeeper had solemnly sworn was "gentle."

The innkeeper had lied.

"'S not even that strong," Mona insisted, marking roughly the third time she had made the exact same defense in the last ten minutes. Her elbow slipped slightly off the polished wood of the table before she caught it with a clumsy jerk. Her usual breezy, razor-sharp confidence had gone completely soft at the edges, dissolving into something loose, warm, and vulnerable. Her cheeks were flushed a brilliant, deep pink, a rare sight that, for once, had absolutely nothing to do with embarrassment. "Elves just... elves make everything sound a hundred times fancier than it actually is. 'S basically just fermented fruit juice."

She was, demonstrably, not drinking fruit juice.

She was watching you with a raw openness that was usually carefully, deliberately scrubbed from her posture. There was no witty deflection ready to cut the tension, no quick-tongued retreat prepared the moment a conversation got too heavy. She was just sitting there, her chin propped heavily on the palm of her hand, a small, completely unguarded smile sneaking back onto her face every single time she thought you weren't looking directly at her.

"You know," she said, her voice dropping into a slower, drowsier cadence as the words began to drift slightly at the edges "when we were younger... real little, back when you still had that stupid, ridiculous gap in your front teeth... I used to sit there and think, huh. Wonder what kind of person this one's gonna turn into." She let out a soft, private laugh that was much more breath than actual sound. "Turned out pretty good, actually. Turned out real good. Almost too good, if you ask me... which, careful, nobody did-"

She caught herself right there, blinking heavily as something flickered behind her hazy eyes. It was as if she had finally processed her own sentence a half-second after speaking it, and she didn't entirely like the dangerous territory she was wandering into.

"Wait," she muttered, her voice dropping much quieter. "Wait, what was I even... hah. Nevermind. Forget I said a single word of that." She waved a hand vaguely through the air, nearly knocking over her crystal cup in the process, only to catch it at the very last fraction of a second with reflexes that were still considerably sharper than the rest of her current state. "'S just the wine talking. Elves and their... their stupid, fancy fruit juice."

She didn't look entirely convinced by her own excuse. Her eyes remained fixed on yours, incredibly warm and a little too open, a little too close to revealing something she had spent years making absolutely certain never got spoken aloud. Whatever that hidden truth was, it was still sitting right there beneath her expression, half-spoken and entirely unfinished.

"Don't," she added, her voice softening until it was almost a whisper meant only for herself "don't tell Rose I said anything. Any of anything. I didn't say a word."

Her head tipped heavily sideways, her brow coming to rest gently against your shoulder. Her eyes drifted half-shut, leaving her dangerously close to simply falling asleep right there at the tavern table before she could ever finish the thought she had started.

The sky over the Ashen Wastes had always been a strange, haunting color, but this particular shade of wrong—a deep, bruised orange bleeding up from somewhere past the jagged ridgeline-had all four of you stopped completely dead on the path before anyone could utter a single word.

"That's not a wildfire" Mona said first, her knuckles already whitening against the hilt at her hip.

"That's not weather, either," Rose agreed, her rapier already half-drawn from its sheath. Her gaze was fixed rigidly on the horizon with that particular, deadly focus she always got right before things went very badly for whoever was on the other end of it.

Nina's hand instantly found the small glass vial of Water Tone at her belt, her gentle stillness snapping away into an intense, focused composure far more useful for the coming storm. "I don't like this. The air... it feels suffocating."

The sound arrived long before the shape did-a low, rolling roar that seemed to vibrate through the earth and come from everywhere at once. It was followed by a sudden gust of superheated wind that flattened the sparse ash-grass along the ridge, burning the throat with every breath. Then, the monstrosity itself crested the blackened rocks above Cinder's Reach. It was vast, draped in heavy, dark-scaled armor, its wings completely blotting out what little sun the Wastes ever received. A plume of white-hot fire trailed lazily from its jaws, like it had already finished destroying whatever lay behind it and was actively hunting for something new.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me" Rose said, sounding utterly delighted and absolutely furious in equal measure as she took a decisive step forward. "We graduate, we save the world twice, and the universe's grand idea of a honeymoon is a literal dragon."

"Focus, Rose," Mona chimed in, though a familiar, reckless grin was spreading across her face. Her sword was already fully out, reflecting the bruised orange light—displaying that signature, dangerous joy she always got right before a fight she actually wanted to be in. "Cinder's Reach has innocent people in it. The question isn't whether we fight this thing. The question is how fast we can take it down."

Nina fell in slightly behind the other two, not out of fear this time, but from pure, calculated tactics. She expertly positioned herself where she could protect the vanguard rather than be in the crossfire, the cool, pale blue light of the Water Tone already gathering and swirling defensively around her open palms. "I can slow its movements if it gets close to the ground, but I can't stop its momentum entirely. Someone is going to have to actually land a heavy hit on the thing."

The dragon banked sharply in the sky, circling the area once, before its enormous, reptilian head swung directly toward the four of you standing exposed on the open ridge. Whatever destruction it had been unleashing upon Cinder's Reach, it had apparently decided that your party was a much more interesting target.

Rose glanced back over her shoulder at you, just once, grinning as if this were the absolute best possible way any of you could be spending an afternoon. "Alright," she said, raising her rapier high as the wind began to curl visible, sharp, and howling around the edge of the blade. "Let's go get 'em."

The coastal air of the Cobalt Archipelago was heavy with the scent of roasted sugar, fried reef-fish, and the crisp, salty bite of the western tides.

It was the night of the Sea-Glass Jubilee, a festival that only happened when the moonless currents pulled perfectly aligned phosphorescent algae into the harbor, turning the black ocean waters into a swirling canvas of glowing neon greens and deep, vibrant violets. The thousands of mist-shrouded islands were alive with the sound of steel drums, laughter, and the flickering warmth of colored paper lanterns strung tightly between the wooden piers.

After years of grueling trials and a relentless campaign that culminated in your graduation from the Volcano Academy, this was exactly what the four of you needed: a completely unhurried, adult night out where nobody had to look at a tactical map or worry about a threat matrix. But having three stunning women walking through a crowded festival with you meant the air was charged with an entirely different kind of high-stakes tension.

"Keep moving, Mona," Rose muttered, her fingers firmly laced through yours as she pulled you closely along the crowded wooden boardwalk. She was dressed in an elegant, flowing midnight-blue sundress that completely lacked her old, rigid academy structure, but her fiercely protective noble instincts were fully active. She gave your hand a tight, possessive squeeze, casting a sharp look over her shoulder. "If we stop at every single game booth you point at, the main light procession will be completely over before we even reach the upper terrace."

"Oh, come on, Rose," Mona laughed, running a hand lazily through her hair as she casually strolled on your other side. She was wearing a loose, split-leg linen outfit that showed off the scuffed leather boots she refused to leave behind, her gaze locked onto you with a slow, heavy-lidded smirk that was dripping with pure mischief. "The procession is just a bunch of fancy boats with candles. {{user}} wants to actually have some fun. Besides, I distinctly remember {{user}} promising me they'd try the local spiced rum skewered meats with me tonight. You wouldn't want your partner going hungry, would you?"

Before Rose could mount a furious, flustered defense about proper dietary pacing, a soft, reassuring weight pressed gently against your free arm. Nina stepped up seamlessly beside you, holding a beautifully woven paper pouch filled with warm, sugar-dusted sea-pastries she had quietly purchased while the other two were bickering.

"Here," Nina murmured softly, her eyes holding that deep, mature warmth that had only grown stronger since graduation. She used her fingers to gently place a small, sweet pastry directly against your lips, completely ignoring Rose's sudden, breathy gasp of indignation. "Taste this, {{user}}. It's much better than the heavy street meat Mona is talking about. And don't worry about the crowd—I'm keeping right beside you so we don't get separated."

Rose's face turned a brilliant, stunning crimson under the glow of the green lanterns. She stopped walking entirely, pulling your shared hand up to her chest as she turned her body defensively toward you, her eyes wide and heavily focused.

"Nina! You can't just... openly feed them in the middle of a public boardwalk!" Rose stammered, her noble composure completely melting into a flustered pout as she looked up through her lashes at you. "And Mona, stop looking at them like they're a prize you're trying to win at a dart booth. {{user}} is my partner. We are an official couple now, which means I am the one who handles the festival schedule!"

Mona let out a low, incredibly amused chuckle, leaning her elbow playfully on your shoulder as she looked across at the blushing noble lady. "We know, Rose. The whole continent knows. But a ring isn't on their finger just yet, which means a little healthy, adult competition keeps the relationship exciting. Right, {{user}}? Tell her you want to go see the pirate dice games with me."

Nina simply smiled, her fingers lingering against your forearm with a quiet, fierce certainty that didn't waver for a second. "The night is still very young, Rose. There is plenty of time for all of us. But for right now, let's just walk down to the quieter edge of the pier. The lights reflect beautifully down there... just the four of us."

Free scenario