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Chapter 1

Magic screamed. It howled and shrieked and cried in agony.

Those with the skills to listen fell to their knees as the screech echoed in their souls, the source of their magic.

Keyleth vainly clasped her hands to pointed ears as she writhed on the ground, alone in Ash Morrow Forest. For a moment, Keyleth feared her life would end. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she closed her eyes, praying for the unnatural sound to cease.

As if the gods had heard her, the pain stopped as suddenly as it started, and the silent screams faded until Keyleth could only hear her own dry wheezing.

Keyleth realized how dry her mouth and throat were, scratchy and painful. Hands shaking, Keyleth fumbled with the water skin attached to her belt and brought it to her lips. Fresh, the water provided a welcome balm and soothed her body with its purity.

Gasping, Keyleth tossed aside the drained skin and stood swaying like a drunk as the world seemed to tilt. She stumbled to the side, rested against a tree, towering and strong. Its rough bark against her bare shoulder helped to ground her. Time passed and Keyleth experienced her magic settle, and the world stopped spinning.

What in the world happened?

A young woman by human standards, and even younger by her Elvin kins, Keyleth had never experienced magic like that before, and by the gods, she hoped she never would again.

Keyleth pushed herself away from the tree and yelped as she trod on an acorn buried in the rich green grass of the clearing she had made her campsite the night before. It wouldn't have been bad had Keyleth been wearing proper footwear. But, unfortunately, as part of her people's traditions, she lacked such garments.

Barefoot and clad in simple traveling clothes of green and brown, Keyleth had left her home a fortnight ago to undertake her Aramente — a druid's rite of passage.

Keyleth already regretted it.

She clutched at her foot while hopping on the other and ignored the reflexive tears that sprang to her eyes.

'Keyleth.'

She froze, sea-green eyes wide and alert. She only heard the voice once, but remembered it well. The spirits of nature were reaching out to her, calling for her.

'Come.'

Discomfort forgotten, Keyleth ran, scooping up her empty water skin as she went.

The trees were dense and old, their canopies intertwining high above to form thick branches and leaves. Sunlight shone in beaming shafts upon the forest floor that Keyleth ran along. Fortunate in some ways. Few things grew except for the hardiest of shrubs and deep grass. Keyleth found herself grateful she didn't have to deal with tangles of undergrowth impeding her way. Her breath ragged, Keyleth slowed to a stop and rested her hands on her knees, cursing her lack of stamina.

Keyleth tried to listen past her wheezing, but all she could hear were the creaks and groans of the trees as the wind high above blew through them. Keyleth closed her eyes and stretched out her senses, trying to absorb information from the land. Alas, Keyleth never had an affinity for such magic. However, despite that failing, she noticed something unnatural at the edge of her sight.

Keyleth sat down and folded her long skinny legs under herself, resting her hands in her lap. Closing her eyes, Keyleth focused on her shape, how her lungs inflated with each breath, and the sensation of her clothes against her skin. Then she imagined what it would be like to have fur rustled by the wind and earth to welcome her home in a comfortable burrow.

Finally, she willed herself to change. One moment Keyleth knelt on the forest floor, and the next, a fluffy rabbit stood in her place.

The rabbit could have been mistaken for any typical hare but for the crown of antlers on its brow. Keyleth's circlet, the sole magical item she could bring with her, symbolized her status among her people. Each participant of the Aramente wore one.

Staying low so that the fur on her belly brushed against the ground, Keyleth moved to where she noticed the abnormality.

As a hare, Keyleth's senses sharpened exponentially, and the forest came alive. Her long ear twitched with every new sound, and her little nose tickled as the smell of burned steel invaded her nostrils. The smell came from the same direction Keyleth had sensed that unnatural presence.

A man lay there unmoving, sprawled out awkwardly on the forest floor. Keyleth thought him dead until her sharp ears picked up a low groan of discomfort.

Keyleth scrambled to a tree and huddled amongst the roots before peeking up and over them.

The man heaved himself up, legs shaking, and Keyleth gulped at the sight of his armored attire. Silver steel over a tight blue tunic and heavy trousers. It looked expensive, and well made, even to her inexperienced eye. Not something a simple traveler would have. However, Keyleth found herself surprised. He carried no weapon, and blood ran down his body in rivets. There were deep cuts on the man's arms and legs, and his armor looked well used if the subtle scratches and dents showed anything.

'Him.'

Keyleth's ears flattened at nature's whispered word.

Kayleth would like nothing more than to leave the strange man to his business and retreat.

'We are the Air Ashari, and we respond to nature's call.'

Keyleth's mother said those words as she commanded the elements to dance around her young, wide-eyed daughter.

'And in return, nature will respond to ours.'

Stealing herself, Keyleth hopped towards the man, who had risen to his full height, and clutched at his side.

She took three hops forward, making the softest thumps with every landing. Which is why it shocked Keyleth when his attention snapped to her. Keyleth commiserated with true rabbits at that moment.

'Is this what if being hunted is like?'

Keyleth's heart beat against her ribs like a mallet on a nail, filling her sensitive ears with its crashing tempo. She wanted to flee, but after an eternity, the man's eyes softened, and his shoulders loosed.

Keyleth sucked in a deep breath and raised a paw, wiggling it back and forth in a wave.

The man blinked.

Considering rabbits didn't wave, Keyleth understood his confusion and knew her cheeks would be bright red if she were in her human form.

'Come on, Keyleth—you can do it.' Keyleth tried to psych herself up. Meeting strangers didn't suit Keyleth, and she never got comfortable with it. Strange men she encountered alone in the middle of a forest? She was even less comfortable with that.

"Well, aren't you an interesting creature? A jackalope?" the man said to himself.

Keyleth shook her head, ears flopping as she did. It tickled strangely enough.

There was a ghost of a smile on the man's face tan face.

The man sank to a knee with a quiet groan, shaking shaggy red and white hair from his face as he did.

"I don't suppose you can tell me where I am?"

The man laughed, a mirthless sound that forced a grimace as his side no doubt twinged painfully.

"Guess Rin was right. I really have driven myself crazy."

The man swayed, eyelids becoming heavy, until he pitched to the side, unconscious, before he hit the ground.

'Oh, gods, he's dead! Is he dead? Please don't be dead.'

Poor Keyleth panicked as her thoughts spiraled, and she bounced toward the man.

'He's alive!'

Keyleth leaped onto the man's broad chest and felt his steady and strong heartbeat beneath her furry feet. She could see the pain etched on his face, even in his unconsciousness. The overpowering smell of burning iron assaulted her delicate rabbit's nose, and while he didn't smell bad, per se, the odor overwhelmed her in rabbit form.

Keyleth let her mind wander while taking a deep breath. She imagined feeling the cool fabric of her tunic against her chest, the way it hung loosely and grazed her waist. The coarse material of her trousers rubbed against her skin, and she paid attention to each sensation as she imagined the outfit she wore.

Keyleth's body grew until she looked down at the man while straddling his form.

Keyleth squeaked and awkwardly slumped to the side, kicking him with her heel as she did so.

He groaned.

"Sorry! I'm sorry."

'Don't kick the unconscious wounded man, Keyleth.'

Keyleth fretted over the man, eyes wide, and apprehension clouding her features. Keyleth reached out with her hands shaking but couldn't bring herself to touch him, scared she could do more harm than good if she did.

'Come on, Keyleth, he needs help.'

She tried to remember her healing classes with Elder Zorander, a strict man who had done his best to pound the basics of alchemy into Keyleth's head. But, regrettably, it had never been a subject she enjoyed, let alone excelled in.

"Ok, I need camomile, goldenseal, and rich soil." Keyleth looked around. "Except chamomile doesn't grow here, crap."

For the thousandth time, Keyleth wished she'd brought something with her from her home, but that would have been against the rules.

"Deep breath Keyleth, deep breath." Even if she couldn't heal the man, she at least needed to stop the bleeding. She hoped that would be enough.

Holding her hand inches above the earth, Keyleth channeled her mana. As a druid and spellcaster, plants had always been her strong suit. Within seconds a seedling sprouted from the ground, and at Keyleth's gentle coaxing, it matured in seconds until a large flat-leafed fern stood tall.

Long, delicate fingers removed the leaves with frantic worry, tearing the plant stem, which made Keyleth wince. "Sorry, so sorry." Keyleth hated hurting nature in such a way, and if her father had seen how she damaged the plant, he would have given her a tongue-lashing.

'Nature provides Keyleth, and we must ensure it can continue to provide.'

Forming a blade of wind, Keyleth focused hard and scored the oak tree she had hidden behind just deep enough for some sap to bleed onto the bark.

Gathering the sap onto the leaves, Keyleth jogged back to the man. His armor had the markings of expert craftsmanship, the seams along the side so fine, Keyleth had to squint to see them. Finding the buckles, she got the armor off him and tore at his shirt around his cuts. Keyleth pressed the sap-covered leaves against his wounds until they stuck.

The sap would stop the bleeding and keep the injuries clean until the man could find a proper healer.

Keyleth exhaled, her breath shaken but with an undercurrent of relief. Then, sitting back on her heels, Keyleth noticed how sticky her hands were. She got some of the man's blood on her.

"Gross."

Suddenly, Keyleth could feel nothing but the sticky fluid on her skin, and she needed it off more than anything. Wiping her hands on the dirt helped a little, and she remembered she had emptied the water skin only after she unhooked it from her belt. Slumping, Keyleth entertained the idea of trying to summon water, but thinking about it made her ill. Keyleth knew her ability to call and manipulate water was abysmal in ideal circumstances; as stressed and anxious as she felt, it would be hopeless. Keyleth knew of a stream that ran through the forest less than a kilometer away, but looking at the man, Keyleth knew she couldn't carry him. Keyleth's arms shook like noodles when she tried to help the local baker haul in some flour. She may have been one of the tallest girls in her village, taller than many boys even, but she had a slight build. The man had a few inches on her and far broader shoulders, and if he didn't outweigh Keyleth by forty kilos, it would shock her.

Keyleth still needed to get the man's blood off her.

'If I run, I can be back in less than twenty minutes. Besides, he going to need water when he wakes up, anyway.'

Her rationale determined, Keyleth stood but hesitated, looking down at the defenseless, injured, and unconscious man.

Trying to channel her father, Keyleth attempted to speak in a commanding tone.

"Don't go anywhere, ok?"

It came out as a question. The man didn't answer.

Of course.

Biting her lip, Keyleth once more felt her cheeks heat, and for the first time, she felt grateful he didn't hear her.

Putting her latest blunder behind her, Keyleth darted into the trees.

"Ouch!"

She stepped on another acorn.

'... The wish for everyone to be happy is a mere fairy tale.'

Shirou Emiya opened his eyes and a searing shaft of sunlight blinded him, eliciting a hiss of pain. His entire body tensing in agony, senses assaulted by the dull groan of overstretched tendons, the deep ache of overused muscles, and the burning sting of lacerations. Shirou clenched his teeth against the discomfort rolled painfully to his side, seeking a respite from the agony. Moving didn't help, but at least he could see without the sun's burning light stabbing into his corneas. Blinking past his watering eyes, Shirou's gaze flicked about.

'A forest?'

Sand. Gritty and unpleasant, searing temperatures, and a never-ending expanse of nothingness as he desperately tried to urge the fleeing women and children to safety. Those were his last memories. With each step, their feet seemed to grow heavier, their bodies weaker from the arduous march. Every now and again, the sound of far-off barking dogs and the groans of exhaustion from his companions reminded him that the enemy was near, still on their trail. Not even nighttime brought respite as the group struggled through moonless nights and oppressive heat with no end in sight. With each passing day, their hope of successfully reaching friendlier territory seemed more and more distant.

'How did I get here?'

Shirou gathered his strength, tried to push himself up, and had to bite back a scream. Broken ribs, he had almost forgotten. He remembered the heavy bullet shattering against his armor, but the force behind it carried through. Shirou's pain tolerance was exceptional, far higher than most, but broken ribs sat somewhere between a cactus suppository and childbirth.

Not pleasant.

Worse still, someone had removed Shirou's armor, which is why moving hurt as much as it did. The armor would have braced his ribs and allowed Shirou some mobility.

Rolling to his other side, Shirou kept his arm close to his injured ribs and tried not to jostle them. Getting to his knees felt like an immense success, and with a grunt, he rose.

'Someone treated me.' Shirou noted the makeshift bandages covering the worst of his wounds.

Shuffling over to his armor, Shirou grimaced at the idea of getting the heavy chest plate over his body. Just picking up the armor would be a challenging endeavor.

The sound of folding grass and earthen thumps drew Shirou's attention. Soft, only just audible, but Shirou had enough experience to discern the origin and nature of it. Footsteps, not someone sprinting but moving at a steady jog.

The person who bandaged him? Possibly, but he couldn't be sure. Shirou wasn't one to shy away from danger, but he knew better than to throw caution to the wind. He had learned that lesson the hard way. He scanned the area, his eyes darting from tree to bush, searching for any sign of his adversary. Hiding was an option, but the terrain offered no cover. The flat ground to soft, leaving behind obvious footprints that would be easy to track.

Shirou's muscles tensed as he realized he had only two options: fight or flight. But running? Not an option. He would not make it more than a hundred meters before collapsing in his state. No, he had to face his opponent head-on. So, with a deep breath, Shirou reached deep into himself, to the core of his person, and called upon his magic.

He winced.

Shirou's magical circuits, channels carved into his soul to allow mana to flow, burned. It had been a long time since they felt so over-exerted.

"Trace, on."

Shirou spoke his trigger phrase and pictured the hammer of a gun crashing down, igniting his power. In a flash of blue light, a long sword formed in Shirou's hand, arcane symbols glowing along its crossguard. The pain from Shirou's wounds faded into the background, the enchanted blade doing its work and blocking discomfort. Standing tall once more, Shirou squared his shoulders and readied himself to face down whoever approached.

A woman ran into the clearing. She panted, and sweat ran down her skin in rivets from her run, causing bright red hair to stick to her pale, freckled cheeks and nose. Her green eyes widened as she saw him standing, and she skidded to a stop, bare feet struggling to find purchase on the green grass.

They stared at each other; the woman breathing hard and Shirou stood tense and alert. The woman broke the silence while glancing at the ground, her right hand grabbing her left arm.

"I... Uh, you shouldn't be moving with your injuries. That is... I'm not telling you what to do or anything, but you're hurt pretty bad, and I did my best, but I'm not a healer."

The woman spoke in a rush; the words stumbling over each other in their haste to escape.

Shirou relaxed his shoulders. She was the one who tried to help him, but before he could say anything, the woman swept a lock of hair behind a long, pointed ear.

'A fae!'

To Shirou's knowledge, the Fae had long since left the world behind in favor of safer lands. They had acted as guides to humanity, once, against the darker forces of the world. However, Shirou didn't feel overwhelming strength from the being before him.

Shirou's ability to sense magic had always better than most, manifesting in a smell for Shirou to interpret. The woman smelled of warm wood, fresh-cut grass, and cherry blossoms. Strong, yes, but not oppressive.

"Who are you?"

Shirou kept his voice soft, not wanting to startle the woman and have her go on the offensive.

"Oh, gods, I'm sorry. You must be so confused. My name is Keyleth of the Air Ashari. What's your name? Are you sure you won't sit down? Maybe sheath that sharp and kind of scary sword?"

Well, Shirou never pictured a fae being quite so... anxious. The woman's questions came fast, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot, looking like she had to resist the urge to flee, regardless of Shirou's apparent injuries.

'A trap?' Maybe, but even at full strength, Shirou knew he couldn't win a fight against a fae, a being able to bend the fabric of reality, or so the legends said.

Shirou allowed the sword to drop until its tip rested against the ground but didn't let go, still leery of being unarmed.

"My name is Shirou Emiya, and I guess I owe you for helping me."

"Shirou Emiya? That's a funny name." The woman clapped a hand to her mouth. "Sorry, that was rude. I meant to say I've never heard a name like yours. I've never left my village, you see. Not all that strange for Silvan Elves, but yeah, kinda new to humans and everything."

An elf? They were a subspecies of the Fae, but from Shirou's understanding, they were small creatures, no bigger than children, and bonded to their origin. The example as given to Shirou was wood elves had bark-like skin, fire elves lived in volcanoes, water elves ruled lakes, and so on. Keyleth stood only an inch or two shorter than Shirou, at least six feet tall, and looked human except for her ears.

"That's ok."

Shirou took one hand off his sword and waved away Keyleth's apologies. "I've never met an elf before, so I guess we're even."

Keyleth worried her fingers and bit her bottom lip while glancing from Shirou to his sword.

"I'm technically only a half-elf. Are you sure you can't sheath your sword?"

Keyleth wasn't pretending. The fact he stood there armed made her uncomfortable.

'Nothing ventured.'

With a mental command, Shirou's sword vanished into motes of blue light. But, alas, with the sword's disappearance, the pain it had suppressed reared its head.

Shirou groaned through gritted teeth, stumbling, but he refused to fall. It would hurt more if he still did, anyway.

Keyleth's breath hitched as the sword disappeared, and she stepped forward, fascinated.

"You're a spellsword."

At the Shirou's request, Keyleth helped him put on his chest plate, strapping it tightly to his torso. She had been uncertain if she should, not sure it wouldn't aggravate his injuries, but Shirou had insisted. The results Keyleth couldn't deny as Shirou's breath became less agonized and his expression no longer pinched.

Maybe there was some truth to the old stories Keyleth's mother used to read to her, that spellswords were never unarmed or unarmored, always ready for the next fight.

Helping Shirou sit down, back against a tree, Keyleth gathered some dry, dead wood and made a fire with a whispered word.

"I'm sorry," Keyleth gestured to a tree, its leaves flat and serrated. "I know nettle tea would help with the pain, but I have nothing to boil it in."

Shirou stared at her, something indecipherable happening behind his eyes. Keyleth swore he could look straight through her and into her innermost thoughts.

He must have found something because he lifted his arm without a word, and an iron pot appeared in his hand.

"Will this do?"

Keyleth took the pot. It felt sturdy, heavier than she expected. She let out a thin, reedy laugh that sounded forced even to her ears.

"Yeah, there aren't any holes, so it should work."

As Keyleth made the tea, she tried to remember everything she'd ever read about Spellswords. The stories said they were the greatest warriors to have lived — experts in warfare, capable of using magic to summon magnificent weapons to decimate their foes.

Keyleth thought, like everyone else, that spellswords died out in the war of attrition more than a millennium ago, but Shirou stood as proof to the contrary.

'Maybe that's why nature guided me to him. So he could help me with my Aramente.'

To complete the Aramente, Keyleth had to master all the elements to prove herself worthy of being a ruler among her people. Keyleth knew it could take decades to complete, and those who had completed it often spoke of the dangers... and those who didn't? No one ever heard from them again.

The tea boiled.

"Could you make a cup, please?"

Shirou nodded, and two simple tin cups appeared at Keyleth's feet. He must have assumed he'd want some, too.

She didn't.

Nettle tea had a flavor that never agreed with Keyleth, but she couldn't afford to appear rude. After all, he'd used some of his precious energy to make the cup for her.

Filling both cups, the pair sat in silence as time passed. Shirou sat still but for taking the occasional sip of his tea. Keyleth fidgeted as if she were sitting on an anthill, trying not to pull a face as she gulped her drink, wanting to finish it as soon as possible. She thought about saying something, but every time she opened her mouth, Keyleth couldn't decide what to say.

"Thank you."

Keyleth jumped. The man's voice had depth and gravitas, so even though he muttered, it commanded her attention.

Shirou's eyes locked on her. They were hard and reminded her of sharpened steel.

"O-of course."

Keyleth felt her cheeks heat and her heart sink as her words tumbled out in a rush. She hated it when this happened, and it made her feel even more self-conscious about the freckles splattered across the bridge of her nose. But Shirou seemed unfazed by her momentary lapse in confidence, his face an unreadable mask.

"Can you tell me where I am?"

"You don't know?"

Keyleth found the idea disconcerting. They were a long way from any human or Elven settlement, at least two days' walk. Shirou didn't seem like a person who got lost on a hunting trip, and Keyleth felt certain intense combat caused his injuries.

"We're in the Ash Morrow Forest, half-a-day south of the Clifbare Bluffs."

Shirou didn't seem to recognize either location.

"West of the Stormcrest Mountains?"

Shirou shook his head.

"South of Emon, the strongest nation in Tal'Dorei?"

Keyleth entertained the idea that Shirou was messing with her, but something about how his hands trembled made her believe differently.

"You really don't recognize those places, do you?"

Shirou shook his head and stared at the tea dregs in his mug.

"No, I don't. Last I remember, I was in a desert, fighting a group of raiders while trying to protect a group of women and children." Shirou sounded lost, almost hollow. "It felt like I fell from really high up and for a long time. Then, suddenly, I woke up here. I don't know if the people I tried to protect survived."

Keyleth couldn't help but grieve with Shirou, his words resonating with her powerfully. To be lost, Keyleth felt that way her entire life, but she at least had her family around her until now. Yet guilt also churned in Keyleth's gut. She had thought to use him to aid her, this injured man.

"Listen, I—Well, I'm on a quest for my people and going to the Stonecrest Mountains. There should be a city at their base. I sure traveling won't be easy with how badly your hurt, but I promise I'll do what I can to help."

Shirou looked at her; surprise etched into his features as his eyebrows climbed.

"You don't even know me."

Keyleth played with the grass, allowing it to thread through her fingers.

"I know, but something led me to you, something bigger than me. Plus, I know you're a good person. I'm uncertain how I know, but I do."

Besides, helping Shirou was what a proper leader would do. So, if Keyleth wanted to lead her people someday, she would start now, as nature commanded.

Shirou nodded slowly, thoughts dancing behind his eyes.

"Since I don't know where I am or where I'm going, I appreciate your help. I should be ready to travel by tomorrow morning."

That seemed fast to Keyleth. She broke her arm while playing as a child, and the pain paralyzed her, but Shirou claimed to be ready to move with broken ribs after only a night to recover.

More Spellsword magic? Keyleth couldn't say.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

'I hope he's right.'

Interesting. A good word to describe traveling with Shirou. He proved true to his word, waking up with the dawn and following Keyleth without complaint. He still hurt. Keyleth could tell by the occasional hitch in his step, and he almost folded over when collecting water in his newly created canteen.

Keyleth could admit she found herself jealous of Shirou's magic. Its utilitarian efficiency seemed to have the potential to make life simpler while traveling. No heavy packs or expensive gear needed when you can create something with a bit of mana.

Shirou even showed a talent for hunting, or maybe just killing, in all honesty.

A rabbit, spooked by their approach, darted into their path. Before Keyleth knew what had happened, a dagger flew from Shirou's shoulder and slammed into the tiny creature.

The speed of the attack frightened Keyleth. The knife flew faster than an arrow, and Shirou didn't need to use his hands.

If he wanted to skewer her, would it be just as easy?

A sobering thought.

"Looks like we'll get to eat tonight."

Either ignoring or not seeing Keyleth's sudden nervousness, Shirou slowly retrieved the animal, making his knife fade away as he did.

The rabbit smelled delicious as it roasted over the fire. Keyleth put her discomfort aside and enjoyed her first hot meal since leaving her village.

On the second day, Keyleth tried chatting with Shirou. She missed those brief interactions with people, and Shirou, while intimidating, seemed open to listening to her ramble.

She talked about everything that caught her eye, from flora to butterflies to her family.

"My mom disappeared a little over ten years ago, so it's been my dad and me ever since."

Growing up without her mother had been hard. Keyleth's father, lost in grief, barely seemed present for the first year, and she still caught him looking out at the trees, eyes a million miles away. No doubt he wished to see her walk from those trees, just as Keyleth did.

"My parents died as well. I just turned twelve when my father passed on, and I don't remember my mother at all." Shirou empathized with her, something Keyleth could appreciate, though she would never wish for others to understand her pain.

When they settled down for the night, Shirou, having again provided meat. Keyleth felt she got to know Shirou better. She perhaps wondered if she could call him a friend by the end of their trip. The thought made her smile. Keyleth, for all her talents with magic, never had many friends. Of course, she wanted them, even once wishing on a star, but Keyleth always got anxious around others. People would whisper behind her back, calling her awkward, among other less kind things. Which only made her more uncomfortable, causing an unfortunate spiral until she altogether gave up on the idea.

On the third day of their journey, the topography transformed. Lush forests and verdant meadows gave way to craggy slopes and swaying conifers, signifying their proximity to the mountains. Keyleth winced and whimpered behind her hand for the third time that day after stubbing her toe, attempting to conceal her discomfort from Shirou. "

"Are you alright, Keyleth?"

The man had ears like a bat.

"I'm fine! I just stubbed my toe. It's nothing major," Keyleth feigned indifference, gesturing with her hands to hide her limp.

'Come on, Keyleth. Shirou is keeping pace with you despite his broken ribs. You can't afford to stop because of a minor toe injury.' Shirou halted and turned towards her, scanning her face and then her bare feet.

After some reflection, he asked, "If this is rude, tell me to piss off, but do elves not usually wear shoes?"

Keyleth looked down, feeling her cheeks and ears burning at Shirou's question. She knew he had spent little time around elves, and what if he thought her strange?

The idea didn't please Keyleth.

"Of c-course we do! Wear shoes, that is."

Cursing her stutter, Keyleth looked at Shirou as he nodded, accepting her explanation.

"So, you just chose not to?"

Not what Keyleth meant!

Keyleth's entire face turned red, her ears quivered, and she had to resist the urge to hide behind her hands.

'He's going to think I'm so weird. I should have explained better. I should—'

Shirou's lips quirked in the tiniest of smirks.

"You're teasing me!" Keyleth accused, pointing at Shirou like he'd committed some horrible crime against Elven-kind.

Smirk expanding to a half-grin, Shirou shrugged.

"Maybe a bit."

Keyleth crossed her arms and huffed, pouting. At least Shirou didn't think her strange. Well, at least not odd because of her lack of shoes, anyway.

"It is part of my quest. When each Ashari village picks someone to undergo the Aramente, we begin our journey as our ancestors did, with only the bare necessities." In Keyleth's case, the clothes on her back, water skin, and crown of antlers. "Usually, I would wear enchanted robes, carry a magical staff, and a bunch of useful plants and seeds."

"I'm still not hearing anything about shoes."

"... Shut up." Keyleth stomped her foot to emphasize her point and immediately regretted it.

"Why are there have to be so many rocks?" Keyleth lamented from where she sat, nursing her poor foot. "I miss Ash Morrow. At least the grass felt nice."

Though the sun hadn't set and wouldn't for another hour, Shirou claimed to be tired and requested the stop for the day.

The liar.

Keyleth knew Shirou could keep going. His injuries bothered him less and less every day. He just said that to give Keyleth the excuse. She'd put up a token resistance of the course but capitulated almost as soon as she sat down.

Shirou sat cross-legged in front of her and twitched his finger in a 'come here' gesture.

"Give me your foot."

"Are feet your kink?" Keyleth said before her brain could catch up to her mouth.

A second after the damning words left her mouth, Keyleth wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. But she heard Shirou snort so hard she thought he hurt himself.

Hiding her face, Keyleth shook her head and tried to ignore the tears of utter humiliation swelling up inside. She hadn't meant to say that! Her father put all kinds of ideas in her head about humans, how they were freer in their pursuit of physical pleasure compared to elves, and would use any excuse to seduce her. He'd even given her a book or things humans apparently liked. The talk had been horribly awkward, and she wanted to put it behind her.

She failed.

Shirou kept making choking noises, and Keyleth peeked through her fingers. Shirou had his first stuffed in his mouth in a desperate attempt not to laugh at her.

'At least he's considerate enough to try.'

Keyleth stewed in her misery until Shirou got himself under control.

He looked at her, lips still twitching.

"Even if they were, I don't think anyone would be eager to admire yours right now."

What did he mean by that?!

Shirou looked downward with deliberate slowness, and Keyleth followed his gaze.

'So this is mortification? Neat.'

Two weeks of traveling took their toll, and filth covered Keyleth's feet in a layer of grime so thick she felt her stomach lurch.

'Is that sap? Oh, gods, he must think I've never bathed in my life.'

Shirou coughed politely and tried to get the conversation back on track.

"Anyway, I asked because I can trace you a pair of boots... If you want me to."

He tacked on the last part as a clear afterthought.

Keyleth worried about her lips. She wanted those boots now, if only to hide the apparent filth on her skin, but if Shirou asked for her foot, he needed to touch the very source of her embarrassment.

"What do you mean by trace?" Keyleth asked to distract herself and maybe even Shirou.

"My ability to make items using magecraft, I call it tracing."

That made sense, but the explanation had not given Keyleth enough time to think! Damn Shirou and his lack of verbosity.

"And why do you need to touch me to do that?"

She tried to be smooth, but her question came out petulant and nervous.

"I need to perform another spell called structural analysis. It'll give me a mental framework of what I'm scanning, allowing me to make a boot that fits."

Keyleth's shoulders slumped in defeat. Not only did she want the boots, but now she wanted to experience more of Shirou's magic. It fascinated her how he made things out of thin air, something she had never heard of a spellcaster capable of doing. To learn more about the process would surely be a treat.

Wiping sweaty palms on her pants, Keyleth extended a leg while looking over Shirou's left shoulder. She jumped when he caught her heel in one hand and placed his other across the bridge of her foot.

"Trace, on."

Keyleth squeaked as warmth flowed from the tips of her toes to the bottom of her knee as Shirou's magic worked its way under her skin. It felt nice, like a balm worked into sore muscles.

It didn't last long, a testament to Shirou's skill with his magic, perhaps, as a boot formed in a shower of blue sparks. Supple brown leather ran up to her knee and fit perfectly along every contour. Wide-eyed, Keyleth gave Shirou her other leg as she flexed her now-encased foot, almost missing Shirou's next flare of magic.

"How do they feel?"

Keyleth hopped to her feet and stared at her new shoes. They were the most comfortable she had ever owned.

"They're perfect!"

She forgot how much she missed the simple comfort.

Keyleth took a savage pleasure in stomping and treading on the rough stones.

'Sweet vengeance.'

No one could say that Keyleth lacked a mean streak.

"Thank you, Shirou."

"Don't worry about it." Shirou waved aside her thanks. "I still owe you for helping me in the forest. Making you some shoes is the least I could do."

Before she could argue, Shirou stood with a slight groan.

"Why don't you get a fire going? I'll go get us something to eat."

Keyleth's stomach gurgled, and Shirou flashed her another grin, having heard it before he turned and strode away to no doubt find another rabbit.

"... Will it take us much longer to reach Stormcrest?"

Keyleth forcibly swallowed a large mouthful of a rabbit while shaking her head.

"Another day or two. We made much better time than I thought we would."

Regardless of Shirou's initial assessment of his well-being, Keyleth hadn't expected him to move with any haste. He proved her wrong. It did, however, raise a question.

Shirou had struggled the first day — Keyleth knew he did, but those struggles faded with preternatural quickness. Not as fast as a proper healer would have fixed him up... but still.

"Um, Shirou, how are you feeling? Your wounds, I mean."

Shirou rolled his shoulders and twisted his torso like he needed to test himself.

"A little tender. I should be at one hundred percent by the morning."

Four nights? Which meant Shirou's ability to heal came from a magical source without a doubt.

"That's fast. Has a god has blessed you? They're the only group I know of that heals like you do."

Shirou's body froze, and he stopped breathing. His expression danced between shock, disbelief, and horror, and Keyleth found her shoulders tensing as if feeding off Shirou's sudden discomfort. She began wondering if she should backtrack her question when Shirou sucked in a deep breath.

"You know of people blessed by gods?"

What? Of course she did. Keyleth may not be well-traveled, but she'd still met a few priests.

"Sure, I mean, Seranae is a popular goddess and will take in most folk as the goddess of redemption—and if you travel to Vasselheim, you can find almost every principal deity represented."

If anything, Keyleth's explanation troubled Shirou more since she doubted his eye could open any wider, and he whispered something.

"The Age of the Gods...?"

She wanted to ask what he meant by that, but given how concerned Shirou appeared, Keyleth bit her tongue.

They didn't talk anymore that night. Shirou's mind seemed a million miles away, and Keyleth didn't dare interrupt his thoughts. It took her a long time to fall asleep that night, her mind full of questions about the mysterious Shirou Emiya.

A rock dug into Shirou's back. An inevitability when sleeping on the ground in mountainous terrain. Shirou adjusted himself for the hundredth time to no avail as an alternative rock made itself known.

Making peace with his discomfort, Shirou lay there and stared up at the night sky. The stars shone clear and bright, far brighter than Shirou had ever seen them.

If Shirou hadn't known he somehow appeared in a new world, the stars would have been his first clue. None of the constellations matched those he knew.

Shirou arrived less than a week ago and had already learned things that terrified him.

'The age of gods.'

On Earth, Shirou's world, the age of gods, had passed millennia before Shirou lived. As a result, humanity flourished, unchecked by their terrible regime. That gods apparently still existed and meddled in this world of Exandria filled Shirou with dread.

'Are they watching now? Wait for me to make some mistake.'

Shirou couldn't be sure, but he suspected earning their attention would be cataclysmic if they were anything like the gods that existed on earth.

Giving up on the idea of sleep, Shirou sat up, pleased to note his ribs gave him no more problems than he did.

Picking up a few small branches, Shirou rested them on the glowing coals from the earlier cooking fire, careful not to wake Keyleth.

The elf was a surprise, but not a bad one. Awkward and full of self-doubt, but with a kind soul. Keyleth reminded Shirou of an old friend, and it made his heart ache in remembrance.

Reminiscing about better times, Shirou almost missed the smell of loam and sulfur. It wasn't the natural scent of the elements, but the magic of an origin Shirou didn't recognize.

Shirou stood, uneasy, the odor still distant, only reaching Shirou because of the gentle breeze but becoming more robust by the minute. The magic's source drew nearer.

"Keyleth," Shirou shook her shoulder. "Wake up."

"I bathe, I swear..." Keyleth woke from a dream and blinked, her eyes clouded and groggy.

"Shirou, what is it?" Rubbing her eyes, Keyleth looked around and frowned, confusion plain to see.

"Something magical is coming towards us. Not sure what, though."

It took a moment for Shirou's words to filter into Keyleth's sleepy brain, but when they did, her eyes widened.

Keyleth scrambled to her feet, motions jerky and uncoordinated as she panicked, urgently imploring Shirou in a whisper.

"Quick, quick, put out the fire."

Shirou leaped to help Keyleth shovel dirt onto the fire, killing it until the only light came from the moon and stars.

"Stupid, stupid Keyleth. You know better than this." Keyleth said. Her head jerked back and forth, wildly looking around the veins in her neck, visibly pulsing as adrenaline set her heart racing.

The sulfur smell reached the point that Shirou wanted to plug his nose, the intensity of the scent making his eyes water. Catching Keyleth by the shoulders, Shirou forced her to look at him.

"Keyleth, tell me what it is." Shirou kept his voice calm and direct, trying to jostle Keyleth out of her panic. It helped a bit as Keyleth reached up to grab his arms, steadying herself.

"It's—I'm sorry, Shirou, I think it's a cave troll."

A snarl, deep and guttural, came from the darkness, causing Keyleth to whimper.

A cave toll? Shirou had never heard of one, but that sound reminded him of a massive predator.

''They live in the mountains, but they're not supposed to leave their caves when it's a full moon." Keyleth gestured upward. "I didn't think we had anything to worry about—"

Keyleth's frantic explanation came to an abrupt halt as the shadow of a titanic form appeared in the near distance.

"Can we outrun it?"

"No, it's too fast, and it already knows we're here."

With no other choice, Shirou strode forward and stood in front of Keyleth protectively.

"Trace, on."

Twin blades appeared in Shirou's hands, one so dark it absorbed the moonlight, the other so pale it reflected it beautifully. Kanshou and Bakuya, Shirou, favored and most used blades that had seen him through many conflicts.

"Run. I'll keep it distracted."

Shirou heard Keyleth shuffle behind him, but she didn't flee.

"I-I can't leave you here, a-and I can fight."

Shirou disagreed, but time ran out as the troll lumbered into a patch of moonlight on the campsite.

It stood twelve feet tall, with shaggy brown fur covering its body and foot-long tusks jutting from its jaw. The troll took another lumbering step forward and sank down, pressing its knuckles to the ground like a guerrilla.

"Keyleth, I really think you should run now."

The troll bellowed, spittle flying from its maw as it charged with frightening speed.

"dodge!" Shirou said to Keyleth before hurling his blades.

The swords spun like saw blades before slamming into the creatures. However, the razor-sharp blades only sank an inch through the troll's matted fur and dense muscle instead of sinking to the hilt like Shirou had hoped.

Swearing, Shirou dove to the side in a combat roll. The troll tore through the space Shirou had occupied with a frustrated roar that almost deafened Shirou.

"Shirou!" Keyleth hurrying to his side. "Listen, trolls have fur like chain-mail. So you'll need to hit it hard with something heavy!"

Heavy. Shirou could do heavy. Even as the troll charged again, Shirou mentally dove into a steel landscape and found a weapon to lead him to victory.

"Leviathan."

A two-handed ax formed in Shirou's waiting grasp, and magic flooded his limbs.

Grunting in exertion, Shirou lunged diagonally to the troll's charge, ducking under one of its arms and slamming the war ax into its hind leg as it passed. The troll shrieked in agony as the cold steel did its grisly work and froze the flesh surrounding the ghastly wound.

Shirou ripped the ax free with a spin and continued to dance out of range of the thrashing beast.

"Shirou, get ready. I'll hold it still!"

Shirou heard Keyleth's cry but didn't take his eyes off the raging troll.

"Roots of the world, the origin of all... Bind!"

The ground rumbled, and vine-like roots burst from the ground. Dozens of them, each at least as thick as Shirou's thumb and covered in thorns that acted like fish hooks as they caught in the troll's fur. Shirou didn't hesitate.

Darting forward, he went to work. Ax spinning masterfully in hand, Shirou dismantled the troll piece-by-piece before it collapsed, limbs incapable of supporting it any longer.

The troll panted into the dirt, all the fight leaving it as Shirou stalked toward its head. The troll glared at Shirou with beady eyes filled with bewilderment. An apex predator such as the beast never had a reason to feel fear. Not until that moment.

Shirou brought the ax high and swung, severing the troll's head with a shout of exertion.

Standing tall, Shirou panted, more from the excitement than actual efforts, and relaxed.

"Holy shit... We-we killed a troll!" Keyleth ran up to Shirou, beaming brightly. "It never even touched us. I've never heard of one of these things being defeated by less than six heavily armored knights, and you-you just—" Keyleth mimed, chopping with an ax. "You killed it like it was nothing. You really are a spellsword!"

Shirou gave Keyleth a tight smile and will the Leviathan away, leaving him empty-handed.

"Don't sell yourself short, Keyleth. Your spell helped a lot."

Shirou wasn't lying. Without Keyleth's spell, getting close enough to the troll to hit it would have been much more dangerous.

Keyleth's cheeks turned pink, and she looked to her feet, digging the tip of her boot into the ground.

"T-thanks. I'm sorry it took so long. I've never been so scared before in my life."

Shirou found that surprising. He'd known Keyleth had been afraid, but the way she stayed with him and came up with a strategy denoted someone not unfamiliar with combat. Reaching out, Shirou gave her shoulder a squeeze.

"If that's the case, I'm really impressed."

Keyleth said something in an incomprehensible mumble and played with her hands, pleased but embarrassed.

Sighing, Shirou looked at the sky. The day wouldn't be coming soon, but he was still excited about the fight and knew he wouldn't be sleeping. Plus, he didn't like the idea of sleeping so close to a fresh kill, since it would attract other things lurking in the wilderness. Shirou looked at Keyleth, who moved closer to the troll's corpse to examine the frozen wounds all over its body with fascination.

"Keyleth, can we get some distance between us and the body? There's enough light to travel safely."

Keyleth looked up, surprised, but nodded.

"Yeah, I don't think I'll be able to sleep much, anyway."

As the pair hurried off into the night, feral red eyes watched from many kilometers away, unhindered by the darkness. Nostrils flared as their scents reached it on the wind, and it salivated. How long had it been since the delicious taste of Elven blood caressed his tongue? How long had he sustained himself off trolls and lesser beings that called these lands home? Years, decades, perhaps even centuries.

He wanted her. Ached to hunt her and taste her fear before indulging in her sweet flesh and blood. Already craved her screams and needed to listen to her pleas. A shiver ran through him, and his claws flexed, gouging through the rock he stood on.

'Mine.'

Whelp, not the story I hoped to post. These last few weeks have been work heavy, and I haven't had the time to properly sit down and work on a Hero's Dream or Hero Known. This has been something I've been playing with for a while and figured I'd share for lack of anything else to post.

Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!