The forest floor stains my knees green as I crouch for what feels like the millionth time, squinting at yet another useless plant. "This fucking sucks," I mutter, my back screaming in protest as I straighten up. Mirelle glances over, her electric blue hair catching the sunlight filtering through the canopy. "Tell me about it," she replies, expertly plucking something from between two moss-covered rocks. "But it beats cleaning out the tavern's cesspit, which was our other D-rank option." I spot a promising-looking herb with vibrant blue and yellow petals nestled beneath a gnarled tree root. I carefully extract it, holding it up triumphantly. "That's not plintin," Mirelle says without even looking up from her own harvest. "What?" I examine the plant more closely. "But it's blue and yellow, just like the picture on the quest sheet." Mirelle sighs, lifting one of the many flowers tucked into her satchel. "Plintin has two yellow leaves and two blue leaves," she explains with exaggerated patience. "That one has one yellow and one blue leaf. Completely different plant." I look down at my own pathetic collection and suddenly realize that at least half of what I've gathered is completely wrong. With a groan of frustration, I drop the useless plants onto the forest floor. Mirelle laughs, the sound echoing through the trees. "For a Saint, you're terrible at identifying healing herbs." "Healing people and identifying plants are completely different skill sets," I grumble, wiping dirt from my palms onto Mirelle's borrowed pants. "Cover your mouth back up," she reminds me, nodding toward the face covering that hangs loose around my neck. "Someone might come along." I shake my head, enjoying the feel of fresh air on my skin. "No. No one's around, and it's getting hot under that thing." "Fine," she relents, turning back to her work. "But if some random woman wanders by and sees your handsome face, don't blame me when you're kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder." "Well, at least I'll go down as the most handsome plant-gatherer in Qence's history," I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Mirelle laughs, but when she looks at me, I catch something in her eyes, a flicker of regret, or maybe sadness. It vanishes quickly as her gaze lingers on my face. "We're not going to make much today," she says, tucking another herb into her satchel. "I just wanted you to see what this work is actually like." I straighten up, my lower back protesting the movement. "But we've been at this for hours. You're telling me this was just... what, an orientation?" She nods, her blue hair catching sunlight as it shifts. "The real money is in subjugation, monster hunting, clearing out nests, that sort of thing." "I figured as much," I sigh, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. Mirelle approaches, carefully maintaining enough distance that she won't accidentally trigger my curse. "Starting tomorrow, I want to practice with you." Her voice takes on a more serious tone. "We need to figure out a way you can heal me without actually touching me." I nod, understanding where she's going with this. If we're going to hunt monsters, having a healer who freezes up when he touches his patient isn't exactly ideal. "I think when I commanded you to heal me last time, your body didn't know when to stop," she continues, her brow furrowing in thought. "That's why you nearly killed yourself." "That makes sense," I reply, remembering how the golden light had poured from me uncontrollably until I collapsed. "But if you're in complete control of the process, I think you'll be fine." She kneels to pick another herb, this one with delicate purple stems. "That would be great," I say, genuinely relieved at the possibility. "Yeah, I guess learning to control it would…" A rustling sound from the underbrush cuts me off. Before I can even turn my head, Mirelle is at my side, yanking my face covering back into place with lightning-fast reflexes. The brief contact triggers my curse, freezing me momentarily before she releases her grip. "Someone's coming," she whispers, her hand already moving to the staff strapped across her back. The bushes part, and a figure steps into our small clearing. Tall, lean, with flame-red hair pulled into a severe braid that accentuates sharp cheekbones and, my breath catches, a face mapped with dramatic branching scars, like lightning frozen in flesh. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," the newcomer says, her voice raspy yet familiar. Mirelle's entire body tenses beside me. "You're alive?" The disbelief in her voice is almost comical. I stare, recognition washing over me. It's Vessa, the bandit leader who'd captured me before Mirelle and Jhone showed up. The woman who'd nearly stripped me in front of her entire crew. The woman whom Mirelle shot dead. She looks completely different now. One of her eyes is milky white, unseeing, while the other narrows at us with calculating intensity. The scars that branch across her face like fractured glass tell the story of her encounter with Mirelle's magic. She's wearing clean but badly damaged leathers, and clutches a freshly skinned wolf pelt in one hand. Vessa's scarred face twists in shock as her good eye darts between Mirelle and me. Her gaze lingers on Mirelle's crackling blue hair before sliding to me, narrowing with sudden recognition despite my face covering. "Sam?" she says, her voice like gravel through a meat grinder. My stomach drops. So much for anonymity. She turns back to Mirelle, her scarred lips curling into something between a grimace and a smile. "Why the hell is a royal knight out here gathering herbs with a man?" Her one good eye narrows dangerously. "And why is a man doing labor?" Before I can even respond, Mirelle's hand flies to her back, grabbing for her staff with practiced speed. But Vessa moves in flash and suddenly there's a sword pressed against Mirelle's throat. The steel glints in the light, steady and deadly against Mirelle's skin. "Holy shit," I breathe, frozen in place. Not from the curse this time, but from sheer shock at how quickly this herb-gathering mission went to shit. Vessa laughs, the sound harsh and broken through her scarred lips. Her good eye gleams with satisfaction while the milky white one stares blankly ahead. "Did you kidnap this guy?" she asks, pressing the blade just enough to make Mirelle flinch. "And then abandon your post? Both of those crimes are punishable by death, aren't they?" Her scarred face twists into something resembling delight. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Mirelle's electric blue hair crackles with static, betraying her agitation despite the calm expression she's forcing. "You're a wanted bandit," she spits back. "The last person who should be talking about crimes." The tension crackles between. I'm still frozen, watching this standoff, when a sudden clarity washes over me. I have free will. I reach behind my back, fingers closing around my wooden staff. The familiar warmth pulses against my palm as I draw it forward in one fluid motion. "Hey, Vessa," I call out, my voice steady despite the hammering in my chest. She turns her head slightly, keeping the blade pressed against Mirelle's throat. "What…" I don't let her finish. Channeling every ounce of frustration from hours of useless herb gathering, I thrust the staff forward. Energy surges through my arm, down the wood, and erupts from the tip in a blazing fireball that streaks across the clearing. The flaming projectile slams into Vessa's chest with enough force to launch her backward. She crashes to the forest floor with a strangled cry, the sword flying from her hand. Flames lick at her leather armor as she rolls frantically, slapping at the fire with desperate hands until it's out. "What the FUCK!" she screams, patting out the last embers. Her good eye is wide with shock as she looks up from her prone position. Only to find Mirelle already standing over her, thunder staff pointed directly at her face. Blue electricity dances along its length, crackling with barely contained power. "Move and I'll finish what I started at Honeywood," Mirelle says, her voice deadly calm. Vessa's scarred face twists into a snarl, but she stays perfectly still. The smell of burnt leather fills the clearing as we all breathe heavily in the aftermath. "Nice shot," Mirelle says without taking her eyes off Vessa. "Thanks," I reply, still gripping my staff tightly. Mirelle keeps her staff trained on Vessa, her knuckles white with tension. "How did you even survive?" she demands, genuine disbelief in her voice. "I saw you hit the ground." Vessa's scarred lips twist into something between a grimace and a smile. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "Try me." Mirelle's electric blue hair crackles with static, betraying her agitation. Vessa pushes herself up to her elbows, wincing slightly. "A random elf healed me," she says flatly. "Found me half-dead in the forest and decided to play hero." Mirelle barks out a laugh, harsh and disbelieving. "You're right. I don't believe you." "Well, what the fuck do you want me to say?" Vessa snarls, her good eye flashing with anger. "That's the truth. Some pointy-eared bitch with more compassion than sense saved me." I'm so focused on their exchange that I don't notice Vessa's hand inching toward me until it's too late. Her fingers clamp around my ankle. "Kill her!" she commands. My body moves without my permission. The curse activates instantly, locking my muscles into their current positions while simultaneously compelling me to obey. I swing my staff toward Mirelle, horror flooding my system as energy gathers at its tip. I scream internally, fighting against the magic with everything I have, but it's useless. The fireball erupts from my staff, hurtling directly at Mirelle's stunned face. Just as suddenly, Vessa releases my ankle and scrambles to her feet. The moment her hand breaks contact, control floods back into my limbs, too late to stop the fireball already racing toward Mirelle. "Shit!" I yell, stumbling forward as if I could somehow catch the deadly projectile. Mirelle dives sideways with lightning-fast reflexes. The fireball sizzles past her, singeing the edge of her cloak before exploding against a tree behind her. Bark shatters in a spray of flaming debris. Vessa is already sprinting in the opposite direction, ducking between trees and zigzagging through the underbrush. "Fuck!" Mirelle shouts, rolling to her feet and raising her staff. Blue energy crackles at its tip as she tries to line up a shot. This time, Vessa isn't making the same mistake she did at Honeywood. She weaves between trunks, using the forest for cover, clearly having learned her lesson about running in a straight line. "I'm sorry!" I call out to Mirelle, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I couldn't stop it!" "It's fine," Mirelle yells, taking aim through the trees. Her staff glows with blinding blue energy before she releases a massive bolt of lightning. It tears through the forest with a deafening crack, missing Vessa by inches and striking a massive oak instead. The tree erupts into a shower of splinters and flame, and to my horror, the bolt ricochets, igniting a second tree nearby. "Shit!" Mirelle curses as Vessa disappears into the dense underbrush, her red braid the last thing visible before she's swallowed by the forest entirely. "What now?" I stare at the burning trees, feeling like we've just gone from bad to catastrophic in record time. "I don't know," Mirelle replies, her voice tight with frustration. She runs a hand through her hair. "We'll have to move sooner than I wanted to." I nod, the full weight of what just happened settling in my stomach like a stone. Vessa knowing about me isn't just inconvenient, it's potentially life-threatening. A bandit leader with a grudge against Mirelle, who knows I'm a cursed man. "She could report me," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "She could tell everyone about the curse." Mirelle kicks at a smoldering piece of bark, sending embers flying. "She won't go to the authorities. She's still a wanted criminal. She could try to sell the information, though.” Map of the Continent: