Dust clung to the crossroads with breathless heat, the road shimmering in waves beneath the noon sun. Farrowstead was but a speck on the horizon now, swallowed by fields of tall grass and swaying crops. The road weaved between hills like a snake.

  They crested yet another hill—and saw her.

  A lone silhouette, right in the center of the crossroads.

  Caelus felt it before he saw it. That prickle of warning at the nape of his neck. The unnatural stillness.

  Even the birds had gone quiet.

  There she was.

  She towered—easily Sol’s height—with muscled arms bare and spattered with dried blood. Whether it was hers or someone else’s was anyone’s guess.

  Her massive blade rested point-down in the dirt, battered and chipped, nearly as tall as she was. Her long hair—an odd, pale shade for her kind, almost white—was tied back in a thick braid, though dust and sweat had long since turned neatness into defiance.

  There was something else in her—her features were too sharp, her frame too lithe compared to the broad-shouldered, towering orcs Caelus seen before. But her presence? It was massive. The kind that makes one’s instincts scream at them to be on guard.

  She hadn’t even looked at them yet, and still, the pressure in the air shifted like a predator had taken notice.

  The knight tensed. His fingers found his hilt before he could think—reflex, not choice.

  But a hand stopped him, grasp firm on his wrist.

  Sol has made a nasty habit of touching him at first opportunity.

  “Now, now,” he said gently. “That’s no way to greet a lady.”

  Caelus turned sharply, about to protest, but before he could speak, Anders piped up from behind. “Is that how they teach manners in the church? No wonder y’all celibate.”

  The knight slammed his sword back into its sheath, the metal clanging far too loudly even for his own comfort. He gritted his teeth. His eyes snapped forward—

  The orc woman’s head turned.

  Her smile widened. Wicked, eager. Gold eyes glowing with mischief.

  A wolf spotting a limping deer.

  “Well, finally!” She barked, voice rough and bright. “A traveler who actually looks like he knows what to do with steel!”

  “That one.” She pointed. Straight at Sol. No hesitation. No acknowledgment of anyone else. “You. Fight me.”

  Caelus glanced at Anders, who’s grinning like a feral child—then at Sol, whose entire body seemed to hum with interest.

  “As her ladyship wishes.” The elf stepped forward and, in a surprisingly fluid motion, raised one fist over his chest and bowed slightly—the exact gesture Cael didn’t recognize, but the orc clearly did.

  Her brow lifted. Amusement sparked in her eyes.

  “Oooh, a gentleman!” She laughed, “How refreshing! Most people greet me with screams or run like they’ve pissed themselves. But you…” Her grin sharpened, almost flirtatious.

  “I like you.”

  The ink on her face shifted from the expression.

  A thick black line ran across the bridge of her nose like warpaint. Two short vertical slashes crowned her brow, while three more curved beneath her eye.

  She grinned too much for it to feel decorative.

  Caelus stared, wide-eyed, caught between horror and the urge to yell ‘absolutely not’.

  Anders leaned over toward Bella. “Ohhh, she gonna get her ass kicked!”

  “She seems lovely though.” Bella giggled.

  The orc stalked forward, boots thudding against the dirt. Sol didn’t flinch—only watched her, calm as still water.

  Then she grinned wider, exposing too many teeth. “Tell me, elf, how do you prefer your fights?”

  Sol hummed, tilting his head, considering. “Bare-handed is fine. Unless you insist on weapons, my lady?”

  Weapons! Like he had packed anything but one single dagger, that looked more like a butter knife than a weapon!

  The knight’s patience cracked.

  “This is a waste of time,” he groaned, clamping his eyes shut, praying for patience.

  Anders snickered. “Oh, it’s only a waste of time if Sol loses. Which never happens.”

  “Never say never, boy,” the woman cackled, rolling her shoulders, cracking her knuckles. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  She took a stance, effortlessly perfect in that wild, untamed way like the rest of her. “Alright, elf. Let’s dance.”

  Sol’s grin sharpened like a blade unsheathed.

  And just like that, she lunged.

  Sol moved before Cael can even blink. His grin was all teeth and joyful danger.

  A blur.

  A thud.

  The orc hit the dirt face-first.

  Everyone froze.

  Sol crouched beside her, resting his chin on his hand, absolutely smug.

  “I thought you wanted a fight, my lady. I hope you don’t break this easy.”

  Silence.

  Then—

  She howled with laughter. “Oh, I like you!”

  She sprang to her feet, spitting dust, practically vibrating with glee. “Again!”

  And so they fought.

  It was grace against brute force, speed against raw strength. Sol danced—dodging, flowing, teasing. The woman charged—swinging fists like wrecking balls, wild and gleeful. Every time she fell, she got up laughing. And when she landed a hit—because she did—it only added to the joy.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Caelus watched the chaos unfold with a grimace that could curdle milk.

  This was not what they were here for.

  They were not supposed to waste daylight rolling in the dirt with some unhinged half-feral woman who thought smashing someone’s face in was a proper greeting.

  And yet here they were.

  The templar stood stiffly, arms crossed, glowering like a stormcloud while the others looked on like it was a festival performance.

  Bella clapped every time someone—the orc—hit the ground. Anders cheered like a child watching firecrackers. And Sol? Sol was having fun.

  Of course he was.

  The Mercenary King twisted, flipped, moved like smoke, not a single punch made him wince. And the blows he received were impressive.

  A masochist. Or a demon that didn’t feel any pain.

  Caelus was sure of it.

  And the orc… She responded with the joy of someone who’d been waiting her whole life for this exact kind of lunacy.

  Though, Cael had to admit—very quietly, in the back of his skull where no one could hear—that Bella’s laughter was... charming. Bright. She cheered for both sides equally, eyes gleaming with delight.

  He sighed through his nose, grinding his molars. “This is a nightmare.”

  The fight ended with Rish on her back again, coughing dirt, hair wild, one boot missing, and guffawing as if she'd just been crowned queen of something. Sol offered her a hand up, and she took it without hesitation, grin stretched from ear to ear.

  She lost. Multiple times.

  But she looked like she was winning her entire life.

  Caelus had had enough. Again.

  He moved forward like he meant violence, marched over, and grabbed Solferen by the arm.

  “That’s it,” he snapped. “You danced. She lost. We’re done here.”

  Sol blinked at him, then looked down at the death grip on his sleeve.

  “Oh?” He asked sweetly. “We?”

  But before Caelus could unload the fury, a voice cut in—

  “Wait!” The woman brushed herself off, dirt falling in clumps from her shirt. “You’re not just some traveling noble and his babysitter crew, are you?”

  Her eyes swept over them—Sol, Bella, Anders. Paused on Caelus. Smirked. “You’re adventurers.”

  Bella gasped, clasping her hands together. “We are!”

  “Well, mostly,” Anders said.

  Sol tilted his head. “Depends on who’s asking.”

  “I am!” She exclaimed. “Because I’ve been lookin’ for a group. You know.”

  She shifted, suddenly a little less chaotic and a little more hopeful. “Some folks to travel with. Fight with. Eat with. I can pay my share. I don’t eat much. Unless it’s pie.”

  She smiled wide, coy. “What I’m sayin’ is… you got room for one more blade?”

  Bella immediately grabbed Sol’s arm. Anders grabbed the other.

  Both turned into wide-eyed begging creatures.

  “Pleeeaaase?” Anders whined.

  “She’s so cool,” Bella added. “And she hits like you!”

  Sol looked between the two of them. Thought for all of two seconds.

  Then grinned, slow and wicked. “We need a lunatic.”

  She lit up. “That’s me! Certified lunatic!”

  She slapped her chest proudly. “I have documents.”

  “Wonderful! That’s settled then!” Sol smiled as though he just wrapped up most successful deal of the century.

  “Yes!” She almost jumped. “I can spar properly now!”

  “And,” Sol added, eyes sparkling, “you haven’t even met my brother yet.”

  Her eyes grew wider. “You have a brother?!”

  “Hes back at the camp.” He nodded.

  “You have a camp?” She gasped.

  Bella nodded, delighted. “You’ll love it. It’s such a you vibe.”

  The woman squealed like a princess being invited to a ball.

  Meanwhile, Caelus stood in the background, a man who’d just watched his last brain cell drown in a soup bowl.

  This wasn’t happening. They weren’t adopting this disaster. Like Sol alone is not enough.

  Introductions began before he could protest. As if he had any right to, anyway.

  “Belladonna,” Bella said with a little curtsy. “Just call me Bella!”

  “Anders,” the mage waved, already offering her a water flask.

  “Sol,” said the Mercenary King. “Unofficial lunatic wrangler.”

  “Rish,” the orc stated eagerly. “I eat rocks and punch trees. Sometimes the other way around.”

  Everyone turned to Caelus.

  He did not offer his name. Just scowled.

  Rish tilted her head. “Ooh, moody. What’s his deal?”

  “Religious trauma!” Anders answered lifting his shoulders, nonchalant.

  “Poor thing,” Rish pouted sympathetically. “We’ll fix that.”

  Caelus looked toward the skies like he might ascend out of spite.

  The party moved forward.

  Anders opened one of his saddle flasks, leaned toward Rish and moved his hands. A soft wave of clean water shimmered over her, washing away the worst of the mud and blood.

  She yelped in delight. “That’s amazing! Do it again!”

  “I have limits,” Anders said, smug. “But I accept compliments.”

  They bantered. Bella giggled. Rish flirted back casually.

  “So, angel,” she said, leaning slightly toward Bella. “What’s a sweet little thing like you doing with a gang of amoral idiots like this?”

  Oh. At least she’s self-aware.

  “Oh,” Bella beamed. “You see, when I was about seven, I went into the forest to gather herbs for my momma—and when I came back, my whole village was gone. Something wiped it clean. Smoke, blood, silence. Everything.”

  She paused, tilting her head, eyes wide and innocent. “I was so shocked I accidentally raised the entire place!”

  Still smiling. Still chipper.

  “Dunno what was worse—they came back wrong.” She cringed, gesturing animatedly. Still beaming. “All twitchy and melty and kinda… bitey.”

  A beat.

  “Anyway, I ran. For days, I think? And then I found myself in the middle of Blightreach, and there was Sol, and Anders, and Killeon, and the others. And they just kinda… adopted me!”

  She finished with a little shrug, cheerful as ever.

  Silence.

  Absolute silence.

  Bella’s cheerful voice faded, the only sound left the soft steps of boots on dirt.

  Caelus stared straight ahead. Unblinking. Unbreathing.

  He’d known she was strange. Knew there was something off in the way she was too sweet, too bright, like sunlight bouncing off the edge of a blade.

  But this—this was beyond strange.

  This was necromancy.

  Not just magic. Not just heresy. Not even the kind of controlled, whisper-shamed sorcery they burned quietly in border towns.

  This was one of the worst kinds. Forbidden by Church and Towers alike. A crime so vile even mages feared to speak it.

  His chest tightened. He remembered the smell of sanctified smoke—ashes lifted to the sky so souls might touch His Light. Necromancy undid that. It dragged souls downward.

  He turned his head slowly—mechanically—until she came into view again.

  Still smiling.

  Like she hadn’t just admitted to resurrecting an entire village.

  His heart dropped into his boots.

  She looked like an angel.

  He thought she was one.

  The gentle voice. The flower crowns. The way she offered him candied fruits without flinching when everyone else mocked him.

  He’d once considered her the only redeemable soul in this den of monsters.

  But no.

  She might be the worst of them yet.

  Worse than Varg the backstabber.

  Worse than Nolan the beast.

  Worse than Sol the blight.

  Because she smiled when she said it.

  Because she still smiled now.

  It made something twist in his gut. Not grief. Just the slow, sour ache of knowing he’d been wrong again. A small noise escaped his throat. Something between a cough and a prayer.

  Anders, strolling nearby, caught the look on Cael’s face and raised a brow. “What?”

  Cael had nothing to say. He just stared at Bella. And for the first time since arriving at the camp, Anders didn’t seem like the worst abomination on this journey anymore.

  Bella’s cheerful, utterly deranged tale hung in the air as smoke.

  Caelus blinked. Still processing.

  Meanwhile, Rish—walking beside her—went dead silent. And then, slowly, a wide, dangerous grin cracked across her face.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” She held up a hand like she’d just heard the best thing in her life. “You raised the whole damn village? By accident?”

  Bella nodded, beaming. “Mhm! But they came back a bit... funny. And I was a child!”

  Rish let out a bark of laughter that scared birds out of the trees. “GODS, I LOVE YOU.”

  She reached across the space between them and clapped Bella hard on the back, nearly knocking the poor girl over.

  “You’re like—like if a massacre and a bouquet had a baby,” she cackled. “That’s amazing. That’s BRUTAL.”

  Bella giggled, cheeks glowing like she’d just been complimented on her braiding skills.

  “Gonna be honest,” Rish said, wiping a tear from her eye, “I thought I was the freak show today. But you? You’re terrifying. You wanna be my new favorite?”

  “I’d love to!” Bella chirped.

  Rish beamed. “We’re gonna be BEST FRIENDS.”

  Behind them, Caelus—white as chalk—was seriously considering abandoning the whole thing and walking back to the Pope on foot.

  He looked at Anders, who simply shrugged. “Told you she wasn’t as harmless as she looks.”

  Cael whispered a prayer under his breath, but even he knew it was too late.

  A necromancer besties with a battle-hungry orc, and he was stuck in the middle, clutching his god’s symbol like it was a lifeline. Didn’t even notice how his hand reached for the medallion.

  Rish and Bella were full on chatting as old war buddies, sharing horrifying experiences like they were campfire stories.

  But then there was Solferen.

  He was watching it all, a proud dad who just saw his kids make friends on the playground made of bones.