Lavender awoke to the sound of leaves gossiping overhead. Morning in the Beast World was unlike anything she'd known. The sky wasn't quite blue - more like melted lilac with swirls of gold - and the sunlight filtered through the trees like syrup through lace.
She was lying on a mossy rock, warm and absurdly comfortable, with Vashir seated nearby in his usual silent-poised-serpent fashion.
He wasn't staring, exactly. But she knew he hadn't stopped watching her.
"Do you always watch women sleep, or am I just a special case?" she asked without opening her eyes.
There was a pause.
"You're the only one I've ever seen," Vashir replied smoothly.
Lavender cracked one eye open. "Oh dear. You're a tragic loner, aren't you? I do collect those."
Vashir gave the faintest, rarest curve of a smile. He didn't bite - not with words, at least.
Instead, he turned his gaze to the trees. "This world... it's not like yours. Beastkind follows different rules."
"Start with the basics," Lavender said, stretching her arms. "Begin at the beginning. Or, if it's more dramatic, somewhere in the middle."
---
As they walked through the forest, which now chirped with crystalline birds and trees that occasionally sneezed glitter, Vashir began to explain.
"There are five ruling tribes," he said. "Each one descended from the primal beasts - old creatures born of the land's raw magic. They were gods once. Now, they are bloodlines."
Lavender tilted her head. "And you, my serpentine guide?"
"The Venari," he said. "Snake tribe. We are watchers, dreamers, keepers of venom and secrets. We live where others dare not tread - beneath the roots, within ruins, and sometimes in shadows."
"Do you all speak in riddles and stare dramatically into the distance?" she teased.
Vashir looked at her. "Only the well-mannered ones."
She grinned.
---
"The other tribes?" she asked, stepping around a root that tried to trip her politely.
Vashir continued. "The Rakaen - white tigers. Fierce, proud, territorial. Their lands lie in the north, where the snow never melts."
She shivered with delight. "Sounds dangerously fluffy."
"The Aseru," he said, "are the sea-born. Mermen, water-breathers, dwellers of coral cities deep beneath the Sapphire Abyss."
"Oh good," she said brightly. "I've always wanted to collect seashells and scandal."
Vashir side-eyed her but moved on.
"The Suranji - the swift-footed. Cheetahs. Nomads of the grasslands. They follow the winds. Untethered. Untamed."
Lavender nodded thoughtfully. "Might be difficult to catch one, but I love a challenge."
"And the Kaelith," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "The crow-blooded. Tricksters. Observers. Scholars of forbidden lore. Their wings cast long shadows."
"Lovely," Lavender said. "I've always liked birds with poor reputations."
---
He stopped then, standing at the edge of a cliff. Below them stretched a view straight out of a fever dream - floating isles hung suspended in the air like puzzle pieces mid-fall, rivers flowed in loops, and somewhere in the distance, a tree twice the size of a mountain glowed faintly with lavender blossoms.
"This world," he said quietly, "was not meant for you."
Lavender stepped up beside him. "But it wants me here."
Vashir didn't argue.
He looked at her - strange human woman in a lavender dress, with bare feet and eyes full of galaxies - and something inside him coiled tighter.
"You're not just rare here," he said. "You're impossible."
"Perfect," she whispered, as wind lifted her curls. "I've always been a bit fond of the impossible."