The two girls sit close by the small campfire in the doctor's back yard, each wrapped up in a thick towel, and their own thoughts. The starry sky blankets them with a quiet sense of privacy, and the sweet summer breeze is gentle on their skin.

11 glances over at Aralyn.

The elf's wet hair glows orange in the flickering flames, and hangs limply down to her shoulders, exposing her thin, pointy ears. Her eyes shine like the stars themselves; their purple brilliance sharp against the darkness. She wears no makeup, but she does not need any. And when she speaks, her voice is softer, airier than it had been back in the woods.

“Humans don’t generally survive wounds like yours.”

“You’re a good healer,” 11 replies, breathing in the soothing aroma from the burning oak wood, mixed with the ever-present scent of minty strawberries.

Aralyn gives a little laugh. “Thanks, but with my attunement rank, the best I could've done was stop your external bleeding.” She turns from the flames to face 11. “When I found you like that, half-naked and covered in blood, I was 90% sure you will not make it out of those woods.”

“I’m guessing that 10% must feel pretty smug right now.”

This time, Aralyn’s laugh is real, bright and full of life. “Well, yes, I do feel pretty pleased actually. But I'm still wondering why you were even there in the first place.” Her eyes turn sharp and inquisitive. "A wraith wouldn't have been able to cause the wounds you had."

I wonder how much I should tell her...

As 11 struggles with how many lies to sprinkle into the truth, she remembers something. When they were on their way to Lawheim, not one of the villagers they passed had the pointy ears and red hair Aralyn has. In fact, everyone 11 has seen so far seems unmistakably human except for Aralyn. 11 does not want to lie, about her protocol and what she is, especially to someone as trusting and kind as Aralyn, but in a world so unlike the one she has been prepared for, who can she really trust?

“I’ll tell you,” 11 says finally, “if you first tell me why you hide your ears to the people in this village.”

Aralyn’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?" she asks, and when it seems 11 is, a huge smile spreads across the elf's face. "You're really asking me why I hide my non-human features in a village filled with humans, in a country currently in the midst of a war against the neighboring nation of non-humans? Are you even from this world?”

11 feels her face flush. "W-well... I mean, I..."

Aralyn tries to stifle her laughter, her shoulders shaking from the effort. “If you’re trying to pass off as human, you've done an outright terrible job.”

The fire crackles. A log collapses into the flames, engulfed by the destructive beauty of nature. From down the hill, murmurs of laughter and music float up to where the girls sit.

“I've never been to a festival,” 11 says, trying not to feel Aralyn’s intense stare peeling away her meager façade, exposing the wires and circuit boards inside her. She swallows uneasily, and keeps her eyes focused on the flames dancing across the blackened logs.

"Are you a Blood Devil?" the elf asks quietly.

"Sorry, I don't know what that is."

“Then... you’re a God Gier. That was what you told me, wasn't it? When I asked for your name. And that was what you were talking to Allastair about."

11 deflates, hides her face in her hands. “I should've just kept my mouth shut.”

“You’re here to kill us all, like in Fennald's tale.” Aralyn’s words are harsh, yet her tone is light, and amused. "Did you get those injuries from falling out of the sky?"

“What? That’s just... absurd.” 11 looks up at Aralyn. “That’s the opposite of what I’m created to do. And I didn't fall from anywhere. I landed from the top - no, never mind that. All you need to know is that I am not here to hurt you. I can't even if I wanted to, which I don't."

“I'm not sure what to believe right now,” Aralyn admits. “I mean, you don’t look dangerous, but that’s what we all thought about the Blood Devils, until they started sucking our blood and turning our dead against us.” The elf goes back to the fire, pokes the logs with a stick. After a while she asks, “So, what’s an Android?”

“It’s what I am.”

“But you’re a God Gier, sent by the Goddess of Death, Sharn, to kill us all.”

“Yes, I mean no. No, I’m here to help humanity. You can think of it like this, 'Android' is the species, 'God Gier' is the subspecies. Like how the 'munchkin' is a breed of cats.”

“Uh-huh.” Aralyn nods slowly. “What is a cat?”

“Are you serious?”

The two girls stare at each other for a beat, then they both burst out laughing from the sheer absurdity of the situation, the craziness of it all, and the small ray of affection blossoming in their hearts.

A breath of cool summer air nudges at the small campfire, ruffling the clothes hanging on the line running around it. The girls huddle together for warmth; their shadows stretching and morphing from the flickering flames. They are silent, each lost within the melodic chirping of tiny insects and the popping and crackling of firewood.

The twinkling starlight casts a dim, mischievous glow onto the world, masking the hyper-realism of daytime. It is a beautiful summer night; the perfect time for unabashed feelings to grow and flourish.

Without either of them consciously doing it, the girls snuggle closer, so close that 11 can feel the rhythmical beat of Aralyn’s heart, pulsing through her body and into 11’s, giving her the illusion that her Core is pumping too.

Caution, 11, I’m sensing dangerous energy spikes in your-

“That creature in the forest,” 11 asks, “I think you called it a wraith? Were you hunting it?”

“Yes, we are,” Aralyn answers, leaning forward to feed a few sticks into the fire. “That wraith has the biggest bounty I’ve seen in this part of Gandolia - Three pieces of gold. But don’t get me wrong, we’re not in it for the bounty… well, just for the bounty. We stopped by this village on our way to Kesrock City, since you can just follow the Ryugon River from here, and it’s easier than climbing over the Ranges. Anyway, we planned to just do some simple low-level quests to pay for our supplies for the rest of the journey, but we were approached by the head of the village – a man named Varnon.”

11 pulls up a satellite map in her head, traces the winding river passing through her current location, and finds what looks to be a giant hexagonal burg, walled-off from the surrounding lands. That must be Kesrock City. 11 will need to walk for a week to get there.

“Apparently," Aralyn goes on, "there’s this wraith that has been attacking this village nearly every week, for the past half-year.” The elf's voice drops to a whisper. “What’s most disturbing, is that it seems to be attacking these villagers solely for their children. It steals their children. I’ve never heard of such behavior from a wraith, or any monster for that fact.”

A twig in Aralyn’s hand snaps. “If it’s really true, then that’s just messed up. I’ve heard tales of goblins consuming human flesh, and minotaurs capturing adventurers and turning them into pets. But taking children…”

Aralyn throws the rest of the sticks into the fire. “It’s something I just can’t sit by and allow to happen.”

11 runs the mythical names through Mother's database.

Wraiths, Goblins, Minotaurs… are all things that exist in fiction back in the past, but the way Aralyn talks about them, could the Gate somehow have brought the fantastical into reality? Or are the humans of this new world simply using these names to call the Demonic Entities that plague their world?

Regardless, if this "wraith" really is committing such crimes against humanity, it is technically within Protocol for 11 to step in, though its level is so low.

“I’ll help you."

Aralyn looks at 11, surprised. “But... aren’t you here to reap the souls of the damned? Actually, shouldn’t I be worried about you dragging me into the abyss, now that I’ve witnessed your descent onto the realm of men?"

11 must’ve given Aralyn a very peculiar look, because the red-haired girl snickers, then starts to laugh.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” Aralyn says after a while, pretending to wipe away a tear. “I’ll stop. Sorry, you’re just so fun to tease. You make the best expressions, I wish you can see them.” She bumps 11 playfully against the shoulder, and says, “I appreciate your offer, munchkin, but I can't let you go out there weaponless, even if you are a God Gier. You also don’t seem to have a Crimson Ore, and I’m guessing you’re not Mystically Attuned like elves or dwarfs, so you can’t perform any spells, can you?”

11 shakes her head. “I don’t even know half the words you just said. And please don't call me munchkin. That's not a real name.”

“It's pretty real to me.” Aralyn stands up, clutching her towel to her chest with one hand, and offers 11 her other. “So unless you give me something better to work with than that gloomy 'reaper' stuff, you better get used to your new nickname.” Her smile is so lighthearted and sweet that 11 feels the temperature of her Master Core climb, even though her body is already very warm. But she does not move from her spot.

If I take her hand... does this mean we've just become friends?

11 stares at the slender fingers extended towards her, suddenly unsure what to do.

Did Gier 10 have friends? Were those the people she saw die?

"Come on," Aralyn urges, "let's go check out the festival." She winks when 11 looks up at her. "I can take a hint."

Just like that, all of 11's doubts disappear. The God Gier feels the corners of her mouth lifting up into what may be the start of a smile, as she reaches for Aralyn's hand.

"Alright, but maybe we should get dressed first?"