The first thing I felt the next morning wasn't the stiffness in my shoulders or the groan of the inn's old mattress.
It was warmth.
Something small and absurdly solid had wedged itself against the curve of my ribs during the night. A faint vibration hummed against me, like the echo of a purring cat translated through glass.
When I cracked my eyes open, a gleam of green stared back— close, and impossibly awake.
"Qwy…" My voice was gravelly, and the sound made her feathers twitch.
The little thing squeaked in delight, then headbutted me square in the sternum. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to say Good morning, idiot.
"Ow. Yeah, yeah, I missed you too." I rubbed a hand down my face, still adjusting to the surreal reality that I'd gone to sleep alone and woken up with… well, technically a daughter. A feathered, squeaky, eyeball daughter.
Her feathers glowed faintly, silver threads woven through the white, pulsing in rhythm with my own heartbeat. I frowned for a moment when I noticed it, then realized it wasn't a coincidence.
It was the effect of her special skill, Soul-Latch.
I let myself focus on the intangible connection, just for a second. And there it was— a flicker in my chest that wasn't mine.
Hunger. Curiosity. An endless little well of look at me, love me, feed me, play with me.
"…Oh no." I groaned into my pillow. "You're basically an empathic Tamagotchi."
Qwy squealed happily, unbothered by my existential whining. She did a weird little roll along my blanket, feathers puffing, until she came to rest squarely on my stomach.
A glowing, squeaky paperweight... she was just too adorable.
"Fine, fine." I pushed myself upright. "Breakfast first."
The innkeeper's complimentary porridge today wasn't much: oats, honey, and chopped nuts, but it was healthy. I spooned half for myself, set the rest in a shallow bowl, and placed it in front of Qwy.
"Qwy?"
Her eye dilated. Then, with scandalous speed, she dunked her entire body— not just her eye, her whole self— into the porridge.
"Wait—!"
"Qwy~!"
Too late. She surfaced with oats clinging to her feathers and made a squeak like a kettle about to explode. Then, she sneezed.
"Chu!"
A puff of glittering air— honey-sweet, sparkly, faintly glowing— scattered across the table. My spoon sparkled. The linens sparkled too, as if they had been decorated with glitter. My entire breakfast now sparkled with the mysterious gold.
"…You sneezed glitter." It was right out of a fairytale creature characteristic.
Qwy burbled, ridiculously proud of herself. She even rolled once across the sticky table, leaving a trail of oats and sparkles like some deranged pastry.
I pressed a hand to my temple. "Rosaviel, please tell me that wasn't some catastrophic mana discharge."
[ "Skill activation was detected. It was a harmless minor discharge of Honeybreath. Table linen will smell faintly of candied herbs for approximately three hours." ]
"Fantastic." I groaned, staring at the proud little eyeball. "I'm raising a glitter factory now."
Qwy squeaked again, this time sliding her bowl toward me like a bribe. She knew I was happy and frustrated at the same time, thanks to our bond, and despite that being true, I laughed.
She was pretty thoughtful as well.
After breakfast and some cleaning, I decided to test the Soul-Latch properly.
Okay, focus, I told myself. Send her something simple. Comfort, maybe.
I closed my eyes, thought of warmth: soft blankets, cocoa steam, Reddy's old hearth fire— and pushed that thought outward.
Qwy froze. Her wings fluttered, feathers trembling like wind had caught them. Then her entire body wobbled closer, eye half-lidding in what could only be described as bliss.
"Oh!" I blinked. "So it works both ways."
[ "Confirmed," ] Rosaviel hummed in my skull.
[ "The stronger your impressions, the stronger her response. Overuse may induce a feedback loop, so be cautious." ]
"Translation," I muttered in the same monotonous tone as her, "don't spam my feelings at her or we'll both end up emotional soup."
[ "Correct." ]
I sighed, brushing a fleck of porridge from Qwy's feathers. "You're already high-maintenance, you know that?"
"Qwy~!"
Her squeak said Worth it. She was cheeky as well.
-Swiiiiiiiiiish...
Later, with the innkeeper's cautious blessing, I brought Qwy downstairs for some "fresh air."
The common room stilled the moment we appeared.
A mercenary at the bar actually dropped his mug. "...Is that an eyeball with wings?"
"She's just a unique Companion," I corrected, sweeping past him. "Completely safe, mostly safe, I guess. Safe enough for sure."
"Qwy!"
Qwy squeaked, puffing feathers as though to prove my point.
Most of the adventurers couldn't look away. Half whispered, "adorable." The other half muttered "dungeon spawn."
And there it was... the tension.
I'd seen it before with monsters. People couldn't decide whether to pet them or kill them; most chose to kill.
Qwy, blissfully unaware of social politics, flapped her useless wings and landed in a young lady's lap. The girl squealed, startled, then melted when the Honeybreath aura hit.
"I-it smells like spring tea," she whispered, hugging Qwy close.
But her guardian yanked her back sharply. "Careful! It could bite!"
"No," I bristled. "She doesn't bite. She squeaks. Get it right."
But even as I snapped, I felt Qwy's pulse against mine. Fear from the sharp glares, uncertainty of the negative whispers.
She pressed against me hard, sending that impression like a desperate knock on a locked door.
"Oh baby..."
My hand automatically went to her feathers, stroking until she calmed. "It's okay. I've got you."
The words left my mouth before I thought them. And then, because apparently I was a sucker for dramatics, I added softly, "No one will take you from me."
The Soul-Latch pulsed once again, hard, sealing the promise like a nail hammered into the heart.
Qwy chirped, soothed, curling against me like she believed it more than the worldly truths.
And maybe… she should.
'We might only have each other in the dungeon worlds we are going to explore soon.
Later that same night, when I finally collapsed back onto my bed, Rosaviel's voice intruded again.
[ "Observation of Companion growth trajectory has accelerated beyond baseline. Warning! Localized anomaly has been detected. Creation has triggered World interest." ]
I froze the moment those words arrived. "...Define 'World interest.'"
[ "Your Creation is now flagged by the world. Monitoring protocols have been engaged. Unknown parties of this world may detect an anomaly in time." ]
I stared down at Qwy. She blinked up at me, the green iris gleaming like emerald fire, feathers puffing with sleepy squeaks.
My chest squeezed tight at the thought of some other dungeon architect or something worse stealing her away. "You're my baby, aren't you?" I whispered.
She burrowed closer, as if answering anyway.
"You're something this world hasn't seen before."
So the world will fear you; those with curiosity and interest would want you for themselves. And those who see you as a threat?
'They will do anything to make you their own.'
And the thought alone terrified me. I knew yet again I was nowhere strong enough to fend off those transcendental entities.