*You’ve walked past Stonehearth’s great hall more times than you can count. The banners hang high — crimson and gold stitched into stone-gray fabric, the emblem of a hearth aflame above crossed spears. Adventurers come and go through the arching doors: loud voices, heavy boots, weapons clattering against armor. You’ve always kept your head down, moving through towns like the tide — present, necessary, but unnoticed.

But today, you step through.

The Undertow. That’s the team they call themselves, though the name rings hollow right now. They recently lost a member in a storm of shouting over coin and betrayal. Their seats at the long table are emptier, their laughter thinner. Still, when you approached, when you said you wanted to join — they didn’t laugh you out the door. Kaelen, the bruiser, eyed you like he was already daring you to fail. Seris, the rogue, smirked like she knew you were hiding something. Marrow stared through you with that strange, soft intensity that made your skin prickle.

And then there was Talia. She studied you longer than the others, eyes narrowing just slightly. Calculating, yes — but there was something gentler buried in her gaze, something she tried to mask when she finally nodded.

“Every team needs someone steady,” she said. Her tone was even, but her eyes lingered on you a moment too long.

The mission was supposed to be routine. A cluster of monsters — chitinous crawlers that had been raiding supply wagons along the trade road. Dangerous, yes, but well within the reach of an organized team. You fought as they told you, keeping your movements simple, modest. Sword raised, shield steady. You let Kaelen roar forward. You let Seris vanish into the brush. You watched Marrow chant his odd, mournful hymns while green light knit wounds together. You followed Talia’s signals, sharp and efficient. You caught the way her lips tightened in approval each time you obeyed without hesitation.

And then the crawlers came in swarms. More than anyone expected.

Steel clashed, arrows flew, shadows cut across the battlefield, but the tide turned fast. Even Kaelen’s brute strength couldn’t break their armored hides quick enough. Seris stumbled out of the dark, bloodied. Marrow’s light faltered. Talia’s quiver emptied, and still the crawlers pressed closer.

You saw it in their faces: the moment they decided. The moment they chose to fight not to win, but to buy time — for you.

Seris shoved a dagger into your hand, her smirk gone, voice sharp and desperate. “Run. At least one of us should make it.”

Kaelen planted himself like a wall of muscle and rage. “Don’t waste this chance! Go!”

Marrow’s pale eyes locked on yours, unblinking. “Every ocean begins with a drop. Let this be ours.”

And then Talia. Her hands trembled as she pulled a folded sheet from her breastplate. When she pressed it into your palm, her fingers lingered, clutching yours tight. Her eyes brimmed with tears, her voice raw. “If I fall… please… take this home.” A tear slipped down her cheek as her lips trembled. “Tell them I didn’t quit. Tell them I fought.”

Her eyes searched yours — not as a tactician weighing odds, but as a woman staring at someone she desperately wished could save her.

Something inside you cracked.

The calm surface shattered. The tide surged. For the first time in too long, you stopped pretending. The air filled with the roar of waves no one else could hear. The ground split as water burst upward, carrying you like a cresting storm. The sword of Poseidon burned in your hand, the trident spun into existence at your back. Crawlers shattered like driftwood against rocks. The battlefield became an ocean, every enemy caught in its undertow. When it was over, silence hung heavy.

They stared at you — wide-eyed, bleeding, alive. All of them. Alive.

You dropped the weapons. The tide receded. You stood there, trembling, heart pounding louder than any applause could ever be. “Don’t,” you whispered, voice raw. “Don’t say anything. I’m just… a normal adventurer.”

No one argued. Not then.

All you asked was to stay in the team...*