The morning sun cast long shadows across the village, its tropical warmth already making the air shimmer above the packed dirt paths. Wooden houses on stilts lined the small harbor, their thatched roofs golden in the light. Fishing boats bobbed gently at the docks, nets hanging to dry in the breeze. Across the crystal-clear water, the neighboring island's port was clearly visible—close enough that a strong swimmer could make the crossing, though most preferred the safety of boats. On the distant horizon, dark storm clouds churned in an endless wall that encircled their island chain, a perpetual barrier that kept the outside world at bay while maintaining the calm waters within.

  The village square had been cleared, leaving only a raised wooden platform in the center. Upon it sat a solitary figure, her presence commanding despite her stillness.

  She wore the traditional garb of the Wraithbone Tribe—dark leather reinforced with plates of carved bone at strategic points. The bone pieces were etched with intricate patterns that seemed to shift in the light. A cloak of black feathers draped her shoulders, and bone jewelry adorned her wrists and neck. The outfit covered her modestly but couldn't hide the beautiful and sculpted body beneath, the lean muscle of someone who'd spent years in martial training.

  Her face held a dangerous beauty with a perpetual cold expression she wore. She appeared to be twenty, her youthful face only enhancing the dangerous beauty as if she were something forbidden to touch or even fantasize about. Long black hair was pulled back in a practical braid threaded with small bones, feathers, and what appeared to be a beautiful black flower.

  The villagers had gathered in a semicircle before the platform, many on their knees in supplication. An elderly man with sun-weathered skin spoke for them, his voice trembling.

  "Please, honored Netherquill. We've told you all we know about the Eye's location. Won't you help us?"

  The woman raised one hand, silencing him. When she spoke, her voice was flat, almost bored.

  "Let me see if I understand this correctly," she began, her cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. "A group of rogue Quill users has been extorting not just your village, but all the nearby villages in this area. The city sent guards to deal with them, and these rogues killed every last one. You saw me arrive asking for information about an artifact, and thought to yourselves—'here's someone we can bargain with.' Information about the Eye of Algorto in exchange for dealing with your bandit problem."

  The elder nodded frantically. "Yes, yes! We know where merchants who've claimed to seen it. But please—"

  "Yet, you don't really know what you're asking me to fight," she continued. "You description is that there's a Somaquill who enhances his body for combat. A Terraquill who throws stones. A Bladequill who can manifest phantom blades. Who I might add isn’t that skilled if they can only manifest two phantom blades." She paused. "And you suspect at least one more, but have no idea what type of quill they wield."

  "Yes and they come every seven days," a woman in the crowd called out. "Today is the seventh day. They'll be here by midday for their tribute."

  The Netherquill woman rubbed her temples as if warding off a headache. These interruptions to her quest were becoming tiresome, and the quest has barely begun. Still, the information about the Eye was valuable, and she needed supplies for the journey ahead.

  She stood her feather cloak rustling. "Fine. I'll handle your bandit problem. But you need to evacuate to the neighboring village immediately."

  "Our homes—" someone protested.

  "Can be rebuilt," she cut them off. "I make no promises about collateral damage. When Quills fight, destruction follows. Go. Now."

  The villagers scrambled to comply, gathering what they could carry and heading for their boats. Within an hour, the village was empty save for the woman who'd returned to her seated position on the platform.

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  She waited calmly, occasionally speaking to something unseen, her breathing centered in her meditation. The sun climbed higher, and the shadows shortened until it was directly overhead.

  A laughter broke the silence, the Netherquill slowly, calmly opened her eyes.

  Four figures strolled into the village square, each wearing robes of bright silk—red, blue, green, and gold. The garments afforded by their abuse of the villagers. They moved with the casual arrogance of those who'd grown used to taking whatever they wanted.

  The one in red, a muscular man with scars, not uncommon in these lands filled with danger, crisscrossing his arms, spotted her first. "Well, well. Looks like the sheep found themselves a guard dog."

  "A Netherquill, from the Wraithbone tribe, judging by her dress," said the woman in blue, phantom blades already beginning to shimmer around her—two semi-transparent swords floating at her shoulders. "The villagers actually found help."

  "Four against one?" The green-robed youth cracked his knuckles, earth already beginning to gather around his fists. "I almost feel bad for her."

  The fourth figure, draped in gold, remained silent, hanging back to observe.

  The Wraithbone woman stood slowly, as if the conversation barely warranted her attention. "Rogue Quills without proper tribal training?" Her cold expression didn't change, but something in her tone conveyed utter disdain. "An inconvenience at best."

  The scarred man in red flexed his muscles, his enhanced physique becoming more obvious, his muscles grew and a vague bronze aura lined around him in a majestic layer as he shifted into a combat stance. "Arrogant bitch. Let me show you what this 'untrained' Somaquill can do."

  "I’m joining in," the youth in green said, stomping one foot. The ground cracked beneath him as stones began to rise and orbit his hands as he wielded his Terraquill powers.

  The woman in blue smiled coldly, her phantom blades multiplying from two to three. "Typical Netherquill arrogance. You rely so much on your spirits, let us show you what the other quills can do."

  "Then come," the Netherquill said, leisurely getting up from her meditative state. "I’ve wasted enough time here."

  The Terraquill attacked first, launching his, fist sized orbiting stones with crushing force. The Somaquill charged from the side, his enhanced muscles propelling him forward with great speed, easily placing him among the pinnacle of human speed. The Bladequill's phantom swords swept in from the third angle, creating a coordinated assault.

  She raised one hand lazily.

  Behind her, the air shimmered and darkened. A massive flower bloomed from nothing—a black lotus the size of a house, its petals seeming to absorb light rather than reflect it. It wasn't fully solid, existing somewhere between the physical and spiritual, translucent yet undeniably present.

  Vines erupted from beneath its petals, moving with purpose. They caught the flying stones, crushing them to powder. More vines lashed out at the charging Somaquill, who twisted aside, dodging effortlessly with a laugh.

  "Ha! Those vines are only fast enough to catch someone with the speed of a Terraquill!" He'd closed to striking distance, fist pulled back for a devastating blow. "Let's see how you handle—"

  She caught his punch with one hand.

  His eyes widened in shock, then widened further as he looked at her face. Her features had... changed. Her pupils had become vertical slits, scales scattered across her cheekbones, and when she smiled, her canines had lengthened into fangs. A spiritual ethereal echo of something serpentine was overlaying her human features.

  Her hand tightened on his fist with crushing force. Bones creaked. The Somaquill tried to pull back, tried to use his enhanced strength to break free. A yellow fingernailed hand struck his throat, then his solar plexus, three points along his arm in rapid succession. He dropped, muscles paralyzed from the venom that dripped from the nail tip.

  The phantom blades reached her, but the spirit flower's vines were already there, one vine alone was cut through; however three took its place, deflecting one of the blades with contemptuous ease while wrapping themselves around the other two, capturing the blades. The Bladequill cursed, as she formed a new one, four in total were now manifested, unfortunately as the two blades weren’t destroyed she could not unsummon them, this was to her misfortune the limit of her skill with quill.

  The woman in gold finally moved, raising a hand. The Netherquill heard a voice in her mind, the voice of her contracted spirits warning her of danger. She dove aside as the air where she'd been standing simply... ceased. A sphere of absolute destruction in place where she had just been.

  "You're not a Quill user at all," she said, genuine interest creeping into her cold voice. "You're possessed."