The fire crackled low in the hearth as Velvet stood, dusting off her coat like she was already halfway out the door. "It's settled," she said with crisp finality. "Poffin comes with me."
Everyone blinked.
"To where?" Ash asked, arms loosely crossed.
"There's a trail," she explained. "Texts. Old beast-taming archives that survived the Fall. A scattered handful of mentions across villages. I'm going to follow them. If Flufferbeasts existed, something's out there. Poffin may be an anomaly, but he's still a lead."
"I am a very good lead," Poffin added. "Possibly royalty. I haven't ruled it out."
Velvet continued, ignoring the fluff's interjection. "And if anything happens, I'll need him. His instincts, his abilities, his...unpredictability."
Poffin gave a proud nod.
She turned to Ash. "You're coming too."
Ash arched a brow. "I'm sorry, what now?"
"You're his translator," she said plainly. "You're the only one who understands whatever garbled ancient imperial dialect he's speaking."
"It's not garbled," Poffin huffed. "It's a very sophisticated language. Only three beings in this world can comprehend it. One of them is me. The second is Ash. The third is that good for nothing—"
"No one asked," Ash cut in.
Velvet turned back to Poffin. "We leave in three days."
Poffin blinked. Then stood, puffing out his chest with a dramatic frown. "Absolutely not. I will not accompany you on some pointless expedition unless it directly furthers the agenda of my glorious unseen empire. I am an emperor. A commander. A mysterious reincarnated legend. I do not go on road trips. This is imperial decree."
"He says what's in it for his uhh... Empire?"
Velvet didn't flinch. "You'll have access to ruins. Lost civilizations. Forgotten secrets. Potential libraries filled with forbidden knowledge."
"Hmm. Mildly tempting. Still a no, That's what he said." Ash translated.
"And wagyu," she added.
A chair scraped.
Poffin was now sitting cross-legged at the table, a monocle he absolutely hadn't been wearing before perched on one eye.
"Tell me more," he said, voice lower, hands steepled like he was about to sign a treaty.
Ash blinked. "Where did you even get that monocle?"
"Can it Ash? I'm in the middle of something here." Poffin warned as he rubbed his chin.
Velvet glanced toward the others, one brow raised. "And your party? Weren't you all on some grand quest to slay the Demon King?"
A long silence followed.
Seren blinked. "We were?"
Lyra shrugged, sipping tea. "Pretty sure that was more of a metaphor."
Vix spun a dagger lazily between her fingers. "I thought we were just looking for loot and bad decisions."
Kale, ever the shining paragon, cleared his throat. "We aspire to slay evil. Eventually."
Velvet crossed her arms, unimpressed. "So no real schedule then."
Ash sighed, gesturing vaguely at the mismatched group. "Yeah… we're more of a traveling ensemble of unorthodox problem solvers. Slaying the Demon King would require... cohesion."
Poffin raised a paw. "We do have cohesion.... Yeah never mind, it's non-existent."
Ash rubbed his temples. "Point is, we're not exactly boss-slaying material right now."
Velvet smirked. "Then consider this a side quest with benefits. Treasure, lore, and maybe fewer fireballs to the face."
Lyra brightened. "We're in."
Vix grinned. "Alright then, And old classic adventure!"
Kale sighed. "As long as we help people, I suppose…"
Ash whispered to Velvet, "This is your mess now."
Velvet grinned. "I've survived worse."
---
The tavern's hearth crackled softly as the rain pattered outside. The party had commandeered a large round table, drinks and snacks strewn about like peace offerings in a diplomatic summit that no one really knew the terms of. Chairs scraped, armor clinked, and Poffin had somehow claimed the comfiest seat with a cup of milk froth and a miniature fruit skewer.
Ash leaned back across from Velvet, his expression curious but casual. "So, second meeting and already dragging us across continents. Either you're bold, or really, really into cryptids."
Velvet exhaled slowly, fingers tapping the rim of her mug. "You asked why I'm fixated on Flufferbeasts. It's not just Poffin. It's… my village."
Ash's brow lifted. The table fell quiet.
"I was raised in a place called Hallowmere," she continued, voice steady but low. "It was remote. Old. Half the stories we told were older than dirt, but one in particular stuck— A tale my grandma used to tell me. Generations ago, my bloodline was said to have forged a pact with the most powerful species to ever walk this earth. Guardians, they called them. Balancers of magic—gentle, psychic, impossibly rare."
She looked down at her cup.
"No one believed it, of course, not even me. Just folklore. Until one night, when I was ten, I swear I saw one—fur glowing, eyes like moons, the moment I met it's eyes it ran away and fled somewhere... The next morning, our forest burned. My village... scattered. Gone. One moment it was peaceful... The next, it's overrun by phantoms and monsters, but even so we persevered, lived in such conditions.
Ash sat up straighter. "And you think Poffin's connected."
Velvet gave a dry laugh. "I know he is. That same energy. That same feeling. I find it hard to believe it was mere coincidence. Whatever brought him here—whatever made them disappear It might help me answer some questions. I know he or at least his species has something to do with the sudden surge of monsters wreaking havoc in my hometown."
Ash rubbed the back of his neck. "So, this isn't just science. It's personal."
She looked at him then, eyes sharper than before. "I don't chase fairy tales. I chase the ghosts of truth. And Poffin is either a survivor… or a warning."
There was a beat of silence, filled only by the sound of Vix stealing a breadstick.
"Cool," Poffin said from across the table, chewing loudly. "No pressure or anything."
Lyra blinked. "Wait, so we're hunting star-beasts now?"
Seren tilted her head. "They sound kind."
Kale frowned. "And dangerous, apparently."
Ash glanced at Velvet, then at the firelight flickering in her eyes. "Alright," he said. "Let's chase ghosts."
Velvet smiled faintly. "Then let's not blink."
---
The next day came,
The morning fog still clung to the road when Velvet clapped her hands, drawing the party's attention.
"So… where exactly are we going?" Kale asked, squinting at Velvet with mild paladin suspicion.
"Emberglow Enclave. South ridge. You'll know it by the smell of burning spices and the number of magical food carts."
Velvet tightened her cloak and started down the trail, voice casual. "Emberglow Enclave. South of the leyline ridge. It's a cultural hub. Old, forgotten by most. But not by me."
"What's there?" Lyra asked, already half-suspecting the answer wouldn't be straightforward.
Velvet glanced over her shoulder. "Legends. Ruins. Records. And a culinary guild that guards sacred texts. If we're going to find traces of the Flufferbeast's origins, that's the place."
At the word culinary, Poffin's ears shot up like twin radar dishes. He spun on his heel, eyes shining.
Velvet continued. "By guarding sacred text I meant that you can only acquire it through passing their rather.. peculiar test as a prize."
Ash raised a brow "And that is?"
Velvet averted his eyes hoping the answer wouldn't be as embarrassing as it sounded. "A cooking competition."
"You're fucking kidding me."
"I'm serious."
Poffin on the other hand, was now lying down with a stupid grin etched into his face as if he just heard the sweet promise of Paradise.
---
Hours after they eventually took off from the village, the road stretched long and lazy, winding between hills stitched with wildflowers and lazy clouds. The party walking in comfortable silence—boots crunching gravel, idle conversation flickering in and out. Emberglow was still miles ahead, and the sun wasn't planning on picking up the pace.
Midway down a narrow bend, they stumbled upon a scene of sticky tragedy.
An old man crouched beside a toppled cart, wheels splintered and axle snapped. Dozens of jars lay shattered, their ruby contents seeping into the dirt like sweet-smelling blood. Strawberry jam clung to the grass in glistening patches. Bees hovered like mourners.
"Oh dear," Seren gasped.
"My jams!" the old man wailed, wringing his hands. "They were enchanted! Sun-grown strawberries, sugar from Tempest Hills, stirred under a new moon! That was my entire shipment to Emberglow!"
Poffin stood frozen, eyes wide and shimmering like a kicked puppy. He stepped forward slowly, paw over his heart, staring at the wasted delicacies with profound, unspeakable grief.
"...What's he doing now?" Ash muttered.
Poffin dropped to his knees with the softness of a falling leaf. One paw dipped delicately into the jam-laden soil. He brought it to his lips. Tasted.
He blinked. Then sniffled.
Velvet raised a brow. "Is he crying?"
"Well, it does seem sad for something that smells so good to go all to waste" Lyra whispered.
Poffin looked to the sky, uttered a quiet, incomprehensible sentence—something reverent and final—then reached into his pack and silently pulled out a miniature chef's ladle. No one knew why he had it. No one questioned it.
The old man blinked. "I—I have a few intact jars in the back…"
Poffin turned with sudden fire, nodding solemnly, as if declaring: We will rebuild.
Ash sighed. "Should we help fix the cart?"
"It's what we do best, we're not a hero party for nothing" Vix said.
Kale nodded along with her "And besides, Poffin seems to be eager about the idea. This could be a perfect time for some team-bonding"
There was indeed a lot of Team-bonding alright... If Team-bonding was having your own mascot boss you around like an angry sergeant as they stood there doing nothing.
The moment the party offered to help, the old man lit up like a festival lantern. "Oh, bless your hearts! If you can just lift that axle and—"
"YIP-YIP! (ALRIGHT YOU MORONS)" Poffin barked, standing atop a rock like a pint-sized general. His fur fluffed to full majestic volume, wind tousling his ears as he pointed dramatically toward the broken cart with a...ladle.
Ash sighed, already rolling up his sleeves. "Here we go."
"YURF-YURF-BRRA! (KALE FIX YOUR FORM AND—" Poffin snapped again, pacing like a fuzzy sergeant major at inspection.
"Is he... giving orders?" Vix asked, eyeing the fluffer with suspicion.
"He absolutely is," Ash muttered, "and unfortunately, I'm the only one who understands enough to confirm he just told Kale to 'hoist like a worthy meat-lug.'"
"I beg your pardon?" Kale blinked, halfway through lifting a wheel.
"I wish I were making that up."
"BRIP-BRAP!" Poffin barked, now waving the spatula like a saber.
"Did he just demote me?" Seren frowned.
Lyra squinted. "I think he promoted the old man."
The party toiled under the unrelenting fluff-command as Poffin watched on, sipping from a mystery teacup that definitely hadn't existed five minutes ago. He offered tactical critiques between dainty sips.
Ash grunted as he heaved a support beam into place. "You know, at this point I'm 87% sure he understands exactly how little work he's doing."
"YURF!" Poffin replied cheerily.
Ash paused. "...Okay, that one meant absolutely, didn't it?"
"Yes," Velvet confirmed dryly, arms crossed. "And also something about 'supervision being the backbone of empire.'"
Poffin nodded sagely from his rock. Then promptly fell asleep in the sun.
"Can I throw him?" Vix asked.
Ash sighed. "No. He'd probably roll into a berry bush and come out stronger."
The cart, now held together with rope, goodwill, and enough haphazard patchwork to make a tailor weep, wobbled uncertainly on the road. The old merchant beamed at them, his few teeth shining proudly.
"You fine folks saved me," he croaked, patting the side of the lopsided wagon like it was a prize mare. "Ain't got much to give... but I reckon a ride's in order. And some o' the finest jam this side o' the realm!"
He thrust a heavy burlap sack into Ash's arms with all the enthusiasm of a man bestowing sacred relics. The sack immediately began leaking a sticky, ruby-red trail down Ash's coat.
Poffin's eyes gleamed like twin moons, his mouth practically watering as he pawed at the bag like a greedy cat. Ash instinctively held it higher, out of reach.
"Steady, soldier," Ash muttered.
Meanwhile, the others exchanged tired, grateful looks. Seren was the first to clamber aboard the cart, followed closely by Kale, who offered a prayer to the gods for "the structural integrity of our noble vessel"—and also, quietly, for forgiveness if they all died when it inevitably fell apart.
Vix slinked into the back corner, immediately pocketing a jar of jam with the sleight of hand of someone who'd long ago stopped asking for permission. Lyra flopped down beside her, already pulling a book from her satchel as if the threat of sudden death by cart-collapse was merely a footnote to her reading schedule.
Velvet climbed up with far more grace than the rest of them, tossing Ash a look as if daring him to struggle with the jam bag like some overburdened peasant.
Ash sighed, hoisted the bag higher, and climbed up last, Poffin clinging determinedly to his shoulder like a very pushy, very fluffy war medal.
The old merchant snapped the reins with gusto—and the cart lurched forward with the enthusiasm of a drunk troll. Everyone grabbed onto something, and thus, their highly dignified journey toward Emberglow Enclave began.
Somewhere behind them, a trail of sticky, strawberry-scented evidence was left for every bandit, bear, or curious squirrel to follow.
Ash leaned back, watching the clouds roll across the sky, the faint breeze carrying the tang of crushed fruit and bad decisions.
---
Hours passed. The cart creaked and groaned like a tired old bard, each wheel spin a new verse in the ballad of Please Don't Break Yet. Somewhere along the way, Ash was convinced he saw the same boulder three times, but he chalked it up to either the bad roads or the bad jam fumes clouding his brain.
The old merchant, bless his endless energy, finally broke the long, sticky silence.
"So," he drawled, squinting suspiciously at Velvet, "what's a pack o' spry young folks like yerselves headin' to Emberglow for? Seekin' fame? Fortune? Forbidden pastries?"
Velvet smiled politely—the kind of smile that said absolutely nothing while looking incredibly professional about it. "Just research," she said airily. "A little history, a little exploration."
The old man chuckled like he knew a dozen secrets she wasn't saying out loud. "Ahhh... history, eh? Good, good. Folk 'round Emberglow could use more heads lookin' backward. Too many youngins these days just look forward an' trip on their own feet."
Ash quietly wondered if they were the "youngins" or if someone else had already achieved that great dishonor.
The old man tapped the reins, and the horses trudged along. After a moment, he continued, voice slipping into the reverent, theatrical tone of a man about to drop some unsolicited lore.
"Y'know, Emberglow got its name not just fer the sunsets." He winked at them like a conspiracy was afoot. "It's from the sugar. Emberglow sugar. Legendary stuff."
Poffin's ears twitched at the word sugar, his entire body perking up like a fluffy antenna.
"S'not like normal sugar, no sir. Don't come from no cane. It's a mineral—an honest-to-gods crystal! Found deep under the town, in the old mine shafts. Shimmers like molten fire when you hit it with the right light." His eyes gleamed as he spoke, like he'd bitten into the memory itself. "Emberglow sugar's not just a fancy sweetener, y'know. Long before us folk figured out how to grind it into candy an' pies... it was the main food source for a particular kinda beast which at this point is folklore."
The party listened with a growing mixture of interest and mild terror at the poetic description of rock sugar attempting to assault them.
Seren leaned toward Ash, whispering, "Is he talking about... edible rocks?"
Ash, still juggling the leaky sack of jams and a suspiciously clinging Poffin, muttered back, "If it tastes good, Poffin's going to lick the ground before we even reach town."
Velvet, however, looked thoughtful. Very thoughtful. Almost suspiciously thoughtful.
And so, with a trail of jam, a cartload of strange dreams, and a growing sense they were walking into a plot thicker than jam itself, they rolled ever closer to Emberglow Enclave.
Poffin, meanwhile, was still trying to stealthily gnaw a hole in the jam sack, oblivious to the legendary culinary history unraveling right under his twitchy nose.
The day wore on, the road snaking between low hills and sleepy woods. Clouds hung heavy overhead, the air thick with the coming scent of rain. Somewhere behind them, the last traces of strawberry jam and muddy footprints marked their very dignified passage.
Poffin eventually dozed off again, this time sprawled upside-down like a fluffy crime scene, his legs twitching every so often in some invisible dream battle.
Ash watched him for a long moment, then muttered, "If he starts snoring, I'm throwing him off for real."
Velvet, sitting opposite, stifled a smile. She nudged Ash lightly with her boot. "Admit it. You're attached."
"To that?" Ash pointed at the blissfully drooling Poffin. "Absolutely not. I have standards."
Poffin snorted in his sleep, a high-pitched whistle that made the old man chuckle under his breath. Seren leaned over, adjusting Poffin's little cloak like she was tucking in a toddler.
The cart creaked along, and soon the horizon began to shimmer with a warm, amber glow. Emberglow Enclave rose from the mists like a forgotten painting — rustic buildings shaped from reddish stone, lanterns strung like fireflies across the streets, and at the heart of it all, the faint glint of crystal veins running through the rocks.
The old man tugged on the reins and slowed the cart. "There she is. Emberglow. Might not look like much, but she's got spirit."
Velvet leaned forward slightly, the light catching in her eyes. For a heartbeat, the others could see the weight behind her casual mission — the quiet urgency she carried tucked under all her practical words.
Ash noticed. And for the first time since they'd set out, he wondered just how deep this journey would cut.
The old man pulled them up by a roadside inn, all warm windows and the smell of roasting chestnuts spilling out into the dusk.
"Best lodgin' you'll find 'til you hit the inner market," he said, hopping down from the cart with surprising speed for his age. "Y'all take care now."
They thanked him — Ash a little more gruffly, Velvet with polite grace — and gathered their things.
Poffin, still half-asleep, was draped across Ash's shoulders like an especially needy scarf.
Ash grunted. "Yeah, this is my life now. Great."
Velvet laughed — soft, real — and for the briefest moment, Ash almost forgot about the long road ahead.
Almost.