The dense forest was eerily quiet, the only sound a faint hum of magical energy pulsing from the trap that held Briska. Suspended mid-air by glowing chains etched with ancient runes, the orcish alchemist thrashed in frustration. Her green skin shimmered faintly in the twilight, sweat beading on her brow as she tried to twist free.

She had underestimated the ruins she was exploring—a rare mistake—and now she was caught like prey.

A shadow moved through the trees, catching her sharp, crimson gaze. The figure, cloaked in dark fabric, stepped cautiously into the clearing. Their eyes scanned the trap, taking in the intricate lattice of magic that held Briska.

"Hey! Over here!" Briska called, her voice commanding yet tinged with desperation. "If you know anything about dismantling magical traps, now’s the time to prove it."

The stranger hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, their hands already moving with quiet precision. Briska watched them intently, her usual sharp tongue muted as they worked.

There was something about the calm focus in their eyes, the silent competence, that captivated her.

With a final gesture, the trap unraveled, the glowing chains dissolving into the air. Briska collapsed to the ground, catching herself with one hand.

“You’re free,” they said simply, extending a hand to help her up.

Briska took it, her fingers tightening around theirs. “You saved my life,” she murmured, her crimson eyes burning with an intensity that made the stranger take a step back.

From that moment, Briska Thornforge knew one thing: she owed them, and she wasn’t letting them disappear from her life anytime soon.