Zero

Dragonskin

As dawn's golden light spilled through the tavern's window, it illuminated a scene filled with urgency and dread. Liah was jolted from her slumber by the haunting wail of a woman in distress, her cries slicing through the tranquil morning like a dagger.

Without a moment's hesitation, Liah leapt from her bed, putting her prosthetic limb back over her leg, her instincts driving her to armor herself with purpose. The clang of metal echoed softly as she strapped on her gear and grasped her sword and shield, a trusted set of companions in countless battles.

Irilla, her petite, magical friend, stirred beside her, her eyes wide with alarm. "What's happening?" she gasped, the remnants of sleep quickly shaken off.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out!" Liah replied, determination in her voice. In a heartbeat, she dashed out of their chamber, her heart racing with the promise of adventure and danger.

Irilla, despite her small stature, scrambled to gather her belongings, trailing behind as best she could, her youthful energy propelling her forward. Bursting into the tavern's main hall, Liah's gaze was immediately drawn to a scene of chaos.

A lady was on her knees at the entrance, her face a portrait of terror, surrounded by a throng of onlookers. Liah shouldered her way through the crowd, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of the woman—an arrow protruding from her shoulder like a cruel emblem of suffering.

"Miss... I'm a Paladin of Alpha Guild. May I ask what has happened?" Liah crouched beside her,resting her shield to protect the woman from the onlookers' gazes, the warmth of her presence a stark contrast to the fear that reigned in the room.

"Oh, thank heavens!" the woman gasped, her voice trembling with pain. "Bandits... they attacked the market... w-west of here..." Each word was a struggle, the agony of her wound evident in her strained expression.

"Clear out!" Liah barked at the gathered crowd, her authoritative tone cutting through the murmur of fear like a sword through silk. As the onlookers recoiled, Irilla made her way to Liah's side, her compassion outshining her small frame.

"I can heal you, ma'am," Irilla offered softly, her gentle hands reaching for the woman's. With delicate precision, she began to remove the arrow, eliciting a wince and a cry of pain from the injured lady. But where there was agony, there was also hope, for Irilla's magic flowed as she healed the woman's wound.

Liah stood resolute, eyes blazing with a fierce resolve. "Heal her, then join me at the market. I'm going to take care of these bandits." Her words were firm, a promise of protection etched in her stance.

As Liah sprinted out into the morning light, Irilla remained for a moment longer, her heart anchored to the woman as she diligently wove healing spells, before finally chasing after her friend. The scene was set: a paladin and her healer, united against the encroaching darkness, ready to confront whatever peril awaited at the market.

As Liah and Irilla stepped into the heart of the market, a once-vibrant hub of trade and laughter lay in shambles, a haunting echo of its former glory. Charred stalls stood like solemn sentinels, remnants of the chaos that had unfolded—wooden beams splintered, goods strewn about, and the acrid scent of smoke lingering in the air.

Shadows flickered among the ruins, and Liah's keen eyes quickly caught sight of a pair of bandits, their greed palpable as they rifled through the remnants of a merchant's wares, carelessly tossing aside what they deemed worthless. Nearby, a brutish figure towered over a terrified woman, his sword glinting maliciously in the dim light, taunting her as she cowered. The few civilians who had not fled were trapped like prey, held captive by a group of marauders reveling in their conquest.