The forest clearing still shimmered from the echo of ancient magic. The masked figure had vanished like a forgotten dream, and the glowing lion, having served its mysterious purpose, melted into the underbrush with only a polite flick of its flaming tail.
Lavender, ever composed despite being dropped into another realm entirely, smoothed her lavender dress and looked around as if assessing a particularly charming thrift shop.
"Well," she said to no one in particular, "that was cryptic and dramatic - two of my favorite things."
Her totem still pulsed gently in her hand, like a sleepy heartbeat. She tucked it into a satchel at her side (made of enchanted leather, of course - water-resistant, time-resistant, and surprisingly good at storing things that shouldn't fit).
A low wind brushed her bare ankles. She looked down. Still no shoes. Still mildly annoyed.
"Note to self: next time I travel dimensions, wear boots."
She stepped into the glowing grass, guided now by instinct and curiosity - the twin engines of any proper mad collector. The forest opened into rolling hills of violet fog and honey-golden trees that swayed even when there was no breeze. Somewhere, a tree hooted.
She blinked. "We're definitely not in Eastridge anymore."
Then - a rustle.
A whisper.
A sudden hiss.
Lavender froze.
The air shifted, thickened. From the shadows between the trees slithered something... magnificent.
A tall man stepped into view - or rather, half-stepped, half-glided. His skin was smooth and dusky, his body lean and impossibly graceful. His eyes were sharp, golden, slit-pupiled. Long black hair spilled down his back in waves. And around his arms coiled scales - glistening, obsidian-black scales that caught the light like polished stone.
He was... beautiful. In a dangerous, ancient-relic-in-a-glass-case sort of way.
Lavender raised one eyebrow. "Let me guess... snake tribe?"
The man smiled, slow and unsettlingly charming. "You must be the collector."
"And you must be someone who hisses when he enters a room," she replied, casually adjusting the dagger-ring on her finger. "Do you have a name, or should I just call you 'Handsome Danger Noodle'?"
He blinked, startled - then laughed. A dark, amused sound.
"I am Vashir," he said. "And you... smell like the Totem."
Lavender sniffed herself. "I smell like tea and victory, thank you."
Vashir tilted his head, considering her. "You woke it. The Totem of Thorns. No outsider ever has."
"Well, I am a bit extraordinary," she said, twirling a curl around her finger. "And very good at finding things I shouldn't touch."
Vashir stepped closer - his movements almost boneless, snake-like, fluid. "You shouldn't be here. The Beast World isn't kind to strangers... especially females."
Lavender smiled sweetly. "Neither am I."
For a long moment, they stared at each other - two collectors of secrets, sensing the other held many.
Then, Vashir's gaze softened, almost imperceptibly. "You need protection. You're unmarked."
"Unmarked?"
"In our world," he said, brushing a strand of her hair back with fingers that were too elegant for comfort, "females are claimed. Cherished. Guarded. You... are alone. Unclaimed. Unprotected. And very, very rare."
Lavender's eyes lit up with the sparkle of a woman who just stumbled upon an entire forbidden wing of a museum.
"Rare, you say?"
"Yes."
"And claimable?"
He blinked. "...In theory."
She grinned. "Marvelous."
---
That evening, they camped in a grove where the trees hummed lullabies and fireflies danced like floating candles. Vashir remained quiet, watchful, his long tail occasionally flicking out beneath his cloak when he thought she wasn't looking. (She was always looking.)
Lavender lay back in the grass, totem cradled on her chest, staring at the moon that didn't look quite like Earth's. It was blue. A sapphire coin hung in a velvet sky.
She had come for a totem.
But now?
She had stumbled into a world where she was the rare thing. And oh, what delightful trouble that could lead to.
She didn't know yet that soon, she would meet a white tiger with eyes like frost and a temper to match, a cheetah who moved faster than his thoughts, a merman who sang lullabies to the sea, and a crow who knew too many secrets and smiled too little.
She didn't know yet that they would all want her. Need her. Love her.
But Lavender - the Mad Collector - had just found her next obsession.
And it wasn't a what.
It was who.