Once morning came, Kieran was back out into the city. The market ran loud, layered with voices and movement. Kieran stood near a produce stand, ready to move on—until he heard a familiar cadence of irritation.
Jasmine's.
He turned.
Jasmine stood at a potion stall, arms folded, expression sharp. "That's not what you said earlier," she told the vendor. "You told me it countered poison, not delayed it."
The vendor shrugged with the bored confidence of someone who thought they were safe behind a counter. "Slowing poison keeps you alive. That's a counter if you understand usage."
"It's misleading," Jasmine said flatly.
Kieran approached. Silent. Without hurry.
The vendor didn't notice him until the shadow shifted across his table. Then he looked up.
He froze.
Kieran wasn't doing anything dramatic. He simply stood there—loose posture, hands relaxed, expression unreadable. The kind of stillness that made lesser instincts pay attention.
"You're being sold semantics," Kieran said quietly, eyes on the vendor. "Not utility."
Jasmine turned, startled. "Kieran? You're here too?"
"Seems like it."
The vendor straightened, defensive. "I didn't misrepresent anything. Customers don't listen—"
Kieran leaned a fraction closer. The shade under the awning deepened around his silhouette. Crimson eyes sharpened under it—not glowing, just focused in a way that pinned people in place.
"You tried that same explanation yesterday," he said, tone soft but without give. "On two other people. You waited until they were confused, then sold the bottle anyway."
The vendor's mouth opened, closed.
"Fix your wording," Kieran said.
The vendor nodded quickly. "I will."
"And stop targeting people who hesitate before they buy."
With another frantic nod, the vendor stepped back from his own counter, and Kieran finally shifted, stepping out of the vendor's space.
Jasmine exhaled—but this time her posture changed slightly. The kind of awareness someone has when they realize a person they knew is more dangerous than they remembered… and they don't quite mind it.
She stepped to his side, eyes flicking over him in a quick sweep she tried to make subtle. "You didn't need to handle it like that," she said. Her tone was even, but her gaze lingered one heartbeat too long—curious, alert, not dismissing the edge he'd shown.
"He tried it on you," Kieran said. "He won't again."
Her mouth twitched—something between a restrained smile and something more controlled.
"…Right," she said quietly. "Well. Effective."
She looked away as if to hide the reaction. The vendor rearranged bottles with shaking hands. Jasmine shifted closer without quite noticing, then caught herself and put half a step of distance back.
"Let's go," she said. "Before the marketplace falls in line out of fear alone."
Kieran's expression didn't change, but he followed her calmly, the space between them feeling different now—thin, watchful, charged in a way neither acknowledged.
Jasmine studied him with a tempered alertness—an awareness pulled toward him even while trying to stay cautious.
He stepped from shade to shade as they walked through the inner streets. She followed at a half-step, then matched his pace fully without seeming to think about it.
They stopped near a stone fountain, water flowing steadily from carved spouts shaped like abstract beasts. NPCs filled jars nearby, chatting casually. A pair of players sat on the edge, comparing stats loudly.
She stepped close to the fountain, relief softening her expression. "I didn't think I'd run into anyone I knew this early."
"Big world," Kieran said. "Small entry points."
She smiled faintly. "That sounds like you."
Jasmine glanced at his gear, eyes lingering briefly on the sword at his side before glancing at his crimson colored eyes. "You look... Different. What did you pick for your class and race?"
He paused, "Rogue, Vampire."
Jasmine let out a shout of laughter at his answer, "Why did I already have a feeling that's what you would pick? You always pick the Rogue class, and Vampire race? Don't you ever get tired of being a loner all the time?"
Ignoring the obvious questions, he instead counter replied, "And what did you pick? Let me guess, mage?"
"I still haven't been able to master all the elements in a game yet..." A bright red flush bloomed on her cheeks as she looked away innocently, brushing hair behind her ears to reveal their slender pointed tips. "But yes, I chose mage and I picked High Elf for my race."
Kieran reached up to give the tip of one of her ears, a soft touch. "It looks good on you."
"So," Jasmine said after a moment, "what do you think of it? The world, I mean."
"It's definitely very well made, it's fun, immersive." Kieran replied cooly.
She laughed under her breath. "You really don't like filling in gaps, do you?"
"I don't like making noise where none is required."
"Apparently there's something called the forest trial," Jasmine said suddenly off topic. "Word travels fast when players disappear."
Kieran's gaze didn't shift. "People talk when something interesting happens."
"And when they see someone come back alone," she added.
He shrugged slightly. "That happens too. But I would like to hear more about this forest trial."
"I'm surprised you haven't heard, everybody is talking about the forests," she said.
Kieran didn't look at her. His attention stayed on the tree line beyond the settlement, where the canopy darkened into something indistinct and patient. "People always find something to talk about."
"Not like this." She shifted slightly, boots scraping stone. "Not about loot or boss spawns."
That got his attention. Barely. He tilted his head a fraction. "Then what?"
She exhaled. "About players coming back… off."
Kieran's gaze sharpened. "Define off."
"They don't act stronger," Jasmine said. "They just move differently. Quieter. Like they're not reacting anymore—they're anticipating."
He let the silence stretch. She didn't rush to fill it. "They say it happens in certain forests," she finally continued. "Not all of them. And not every time. You can walk through the same area three times and nothing happens. Then someone else goes in and…" She gestured vaguely. "Something changes."
"Convenient," Kieran said.
"That's what people thought," she replied. "At first." He finally looked at her. She wasn't excited. She wasn't scared. Just thoughtful.
"Guild forums are a mess," Jasmine went on. "Everyone's trying to pin it down. Builds, time of day, kill counts. None of it lines up. One group tried to force it with twenty players. Got nothing. Another guy went in alone, low level, barely geared…" She paused. "Nobody saw the fight. But many people saw him walking out."
"And?" Kieran asked.
"He didn't say a word for five minutes," she said. "Just sat there breathing like he'd run a marathon." Kieran's fingers flexed once against the stone. "They call them forest trials now," she added. "Not because the system named them. Because no one else knows what to call them."
"Trials imply rules," he said. "This doesn't sound like it has any."
Jasmine smiled faintly. "Exactly."
He looked back toward the trees. The sunlight tugged faintly at his skin again, that dull pressure reminding him of limits. The forest beyond the settlement edge lay in shadow already, untouched by the sun's authority.
"People are flocking to them," she said. "Not rushing. Watching. Waiting for signs." "For what?" Kieran asked. She shrugged. "For the forest to notice them." That earned a quiet breath from him. Not disbelief. Recognition.
"You think it's real," he said.
"I think," Jasmine replied carefully, "that Parallel is doing something it didn't warn us about." He considered that.
"What do you think?" she asked.
Kieran didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was even. "If people are chasing it, they won't find it."
Jasmine nodded. "That's what the ones who came back said too."
He stood, rolling his shoulders once, gaze fixed on the darkening treeline. "Then it's not a trial you enter." She watched him for a moment.
"It's one you're allowed into." Kieran mused aloud.
The conversation drifted after that, not awkward, just sparse. Jasmine spoke more than he did, commenting on NPC behaviors, on how the town seemed to function even when no players were nearby. Kieran listened, offering the occasional response when it added something. When it didn't, he let the silence do the work.
They moved together through the inner streets without formally deciding to. At a notice board, Jasmine paused to skim posted contracts. Kieran didn't. The sunlight made his skin feel tight now, not uncomfortable, just persistent.
He shifted into the shadow of a building, the relief immediate though subtle. The system didn't bother notifying him when the suppression eased. It assumed he'd notice.
He had.
By the time they reached an inn, the sunlight sat heavier on his skin. He pushed open the door. Inside: warmth, noise, and space that felt grounded. They paid for their rooms and separated for the night.