She nearly forgot the forest wasn’t as safe as it had once been. With a pang of sadness and pain, she was reminded of that.

That night, she went out to gather some herbs, as she usually did under the full moon, when some interesting herbs bloomed and released some very interesting substances. Noises of a struggle hit her, in the middle of the dark, muffled and contained, as if the fighters didn’t want to draw attention. With hurried steps, she approached, trying not to make much noise as to scare the creatures.

Even Mischief was silent. When she arrived at a small clearing, it was already too late. The corpse of an impi was still twitching in the middle of the clearing, with bruises and scratches all over. Not far from him, there was a fairy.

The fairy was still struggling, his tiny body shaking with pain. Kamille ran to it, kneeling down by his side, taking off her cloak. Even if in the end the fairy prevailed, it wouldn’t last long either, his body slashed by claws and fangs that oozed a dark venom.
She made no promises of fixing him, but at the very least, when the light went out from his eyes, he was comfortably wrapped in her black cloak, warm and inviting. It happened mere seconds after she arrived. Some part of her blamed herself for not being able to protect the forest - for not arriving in time, for not having healing abilities to help... It was not her part to play, even if she wanted to.

She looked over to the fairy in her arms, wrapped like a baby in her cloak. Poor thing... At least she would give him the rest he deserved.

Just as it crossed her mind, she felt a spike in the magic nearby. It made electricity run up her spine and the hairs of her scruff stand up. She never felt that magic around there before. Maybe it was the culprit behind all of that? The master of the impis assaulting the region? She was determined to find out.

With the fairy still carefully wrapped in her cloak, she tried to follow the source of the magic, as discretely as she could.

He could not sleep tonight. Something felt off, and he couldn't shake it. He found himself in a clearing of the forest. He'd decided that maybe it was time for him to freshen up his skills. He might've let his abilities atrophy— it'd been a while since the last time he'd seen combat. He went over exercise after exercise, warming up his muscles in the cold night.

Working up a bit of a sweat, he'd removed his cloak, jacket, satchel, and his pair of glasses. He'd rolled up his sleeves even more now, showing even more of the scars acquired from the random dangerous situations he found himself in.

He now cycled through the various stances of his fighting style. His fluid movements performed with a grace not many people had seen outside of the Crescent Isle. It was a foreign fighting style to most which usually caught the unaware off their guards.

It was then he started to weave magic of the Sky Domain into his movements. His fluid and graceful movements now enhanced with the wind magic he utilized along with them. As he trained, the whispers of wind serenading through the trees into the clearing. The whispers channeling towards him. At the end of his dance, a beam of electricity sprout forth from his finger tips. He made sure not to strike anything with his magic.

He finally ended the performance in the first stance he began with. Taking in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. The lingering electricity crackled around his hand, slowly dissipating into dancers around his fingers, then disappearing completely.

He was too focused to notice that there was someone who had been watching. He had gained an audience, and she had been watching him for a while.

Kamille knew she wasn't a stealthy one, but whoever it was that was manipulating magic out there, they seemed so focused, doing their own thing, to notice her approaching. And then, trying to use the trees as cover, she got close enough to get a good look at the person.

.....Ulrich?

Her shock would've been comical if he caught her expression then. Ulrich never mentioned his abilities - and she assumed it was by design, since he also came to flex his skills alone, in the middle of the night, where no one could see him...

And he was very good, she could see this much. A smile slowly crept up her lips.

As he finished his move, it was Mischief who revealed himself first. He went to land on a bush nearby, looking Ulrich dead in the eye.

"CRAW! Ulrich?"

The raven was a fast learner, and evidently didn't seem afraid of magic. His Master made sure of that.

"I think I left a detail or two escape during that palm reading when we first met....

Kamille finally walked out of her hiding spot, with a mischievous smile playing along her lips. Her cape was wrapped in a small bundle that she carried like one would carry a newborn. She didn't seem upset or hurt - on the contrary, she looked gloriously excited. And, if he knew the first thing about her, is that she loved a good secret.

Ulrich was taken a bit by surprise when a raven perched itself on a bush near him. It stared at him, and he stared back at it. He had an odd sense of familiarity with the raven— and then it spoke.

"CRAW! Ulrich?"

Ulrich narrowed his eyes as the identity of the raven before came to him. "Hello, Mischief. If you're here then that means..."

He hadn't been given the chance to finish that sentence as a familiar voice came to greet him. He turned to see a figure emerging from the trees, out from their hiding place where they had been watching him perform his routines.

"Hello Kamille," His demeanor was different slightly. His presence still had a calming effect to it, but it seemed to be off. It might've been off putting for her if he hadn't flashed her that warm smile of his. Although, there was a slight amount of distance within his gaze. 

She'd just seen his secret firsthand, and now she approached him with a smile. Was he acting different because she had managed to sneak a peek at his true abilities? Was his usual attitude on the surface also a ploy? One could discern now that Ulrich was— indeed— a very deceptive man when it came to certain things.

"I think I left a detail or two escape during that palm reading when we first met...."

"A few details, yes." He responds back. "I must admit. This is the first time someone has managed to sneak a peek at my abilities without my knowing."

"I can imagine a few reasons for that... "

But she wouldn’t press. She lived at Court long enough to know people had their own reasons to keep certain things a secret - and to know how dear they held their secrets to their heart. It was only natural for him to be angry or upset - or, at the very least, different - when their secrets were taken from them.

Kamille still thought, regardless of what she saw now, that her first assessment of Ulrich was more or less accurate. He was a good person.

She approached, reaching out to his hand, while still holding her cloak wrapped in one arm, like one would hold a newborn. It would seem she would, once again, try to read his palm, but instead she closed her smaller hand around his. Closing her eyes, she was undoubtly trying to feel the residual magic from his spells.

"It must be hard to hide such thing from everyone for so long... Specially when you’re so good at it."

She seemed, contrary to his own wishes to keep a distance, to feel closer now that she had that glimpse of his inner self. They had something in common, after all.

And they both had their secrets they wished to be buried deep down from the surface of their usual lovable and easy going self.

"It must be hard to hide such thing from everyone for so long... Specially when you’re so good at it."

He gave her a smile and nodded, "It was trained into me to keep my ability to use magic very low profile."

Martial Arts is deceptive. Real combat, Young Ulrich, is mostly a game of deception and wit! Never play all of your cards up front when the battle has started. Do you understand?

Yes, Master.

The memory echoed in his mind as she attempted to feel the lingering magic within his palm fading. He felt the warmness of her presence chase away the coldness of the night around them. His attempts to distance himself from her— as she had just witnessed his secret— crumbled away.

He brings his attention to her cloak. She was carrying something in her arm, like a newborn. Did something happen out in the woods while he was here training?

His eyes met with hers, "What is that you're carrying with you?"

"That's very wise of you."

Contrary to him, she relied greatly on the general fermongering her title as "Witch" would give her - with the added flair she gave it, of course.

And then the stars faded from her eyes. It was maybe the quickest he might have witnessed someone go from excitement to deep sadness. She pulled her cloak a bit, just so Ulrich could see what it was she was carrying: it was a dead fairy, his skin already greyish, but clearly recently dead.

"I was too late... again."

There was an extra hint of anger in her voice - something he never saw before. She walked over to the side of the clearing, kneeling down and laying her bundle to the side. There was a hint of reverence and respect she directed toward the poor fairy, as if he was her own child, laying his little body very carefully.

Well, if Ulrich had some issues about showing off his magic, perhaps if she showed a bit of her, he would be more at ease. It became very clear, if it wasn't before, she had been blessed by Ginma. She remained kneeled down, and with a wave of the hand the earth itself moved to shape some sort of small slab in front of her. With the same kind of care and reverence as before, she unpacked the fairy she carried there, and gently placed him on the slab before her.

"I'm sorry, little one... But I can't let them have you... "

And, with a snap of her fingers, flames enveloped his little body. It was the best she could do for the fairy.

"Sadly, I can't just bury him. Someone is setting impis on the woods, and I fear they are collecting their wings. The dust made from fairy's wings is an extremely potent reagent," she explained. "I've been trying to find the culprit for sometime now. And I keep on failing."

The tone of her voice was different, and he could see that the hand she left resting on her thigh was curled in a tight fist, shaking. Anger didn't seem to suit her - she was terribly slow to anger, but when if finally got to her... She didn't know what to do with it. The look on her face, as she remained kneeled down, watching the flames consume the small fairy, was the look of someone willing to level the entire forest to have her way.

And she might as well be able to do so.

Kamille seemed so caught up in the moment, she wasn't even aware the kind of attention the fire would bring to them.

Ulrich silently watched as the flames engulfed the little fairy's body. The lights of the flame lighting up everything around them. Light and shadow danced under the pale moonlight.

Anger was an emotion he thought he'd never see from Kamille. He could feel, hear it in her voice and her body language. A sadness fell upon his eyes. He noticed the fist that rested on her thigh shook with how much she was feeling. Her presence gave off a more seething heat rather than the usual soft warmth.

He felt that he should do something to comfort her, but what? He was trained to keep his distance— to always try and keep attachments to a minimum— and yet, here he was. He reached over— he hesitated. His hand lingered in the space between them before he gently placed it on her shoulder.

"Kamille..." He started. He didn't really know what to say in this moment. Maybe he wasn't good with words in this situation. Maybe there wasn't anything he could say. He also felt guilt creep into his conscience. He was also in this forest when this was happening. He could have helped, but he was too busy to even notice Kamille and Mischief had been watching him.

"If you need help finding who did this, you need only ask." A determination in his voice could be heard. He decided he would help her any way he could. She is— after all— someone he's come to care about.

When he put his hand to her shoulder, he could feel she was tense. All of her body looked tense. For a moment or so, she didn't move, not even to face him - but his words did seem to put her at ease, since she relaxed for a moment. Even the fire before them seemed to get a bit smaller, a normal size at the very least. Kamille seemed about to answer, but then the silent night was suddenly filled with frantic caws.

Mischief's wings could be heard flapping desperately for a moment, but before he could utter any words, they heard a soft thud, and the raven flopped into the clearing, unmoving, his little feet up.

Kamille stood up quickly, but she didn't even have time to reach for Mischief, when the night suddenly came to life and a man stepped forward behind the raven. Kamille and Ulrich were both so caught up in their own issues, they didn't even realize the people stalking up to them. From the shadows, behind the trees, at least half a dozen more man stepped into the clearing, all of them armed. All of them eerily familiar.

Should they be normal bandits, the fire must have attracted them, but it became clear they weren't regular burglars and thieves. They all were similar clothing, a pattern they had already encountered a couple of times before.

Cultists.

"I thought we'd have more trouble finding you," the first man that stepped in started. He had a big, one handed sword in his hand. "For all the troubles you have caused before, I was hoping this could get a little... messy."

Despite looking in their direction, it was unclear who he was talking to - Kamille or Ulrich.

The two of them heard Mischief's caw suddenly get snuffed out. His unmoving body flopped onto the ground of the clearing.

The men emerged from the shadows into the clearing. All armed, and ready to attempt taking both of their lives.

Ulrich's gaze was still trained on Mischief's unmoving body. His eyes slowly filled with boiling rage, and the air around the two of them began to feel statically charged. The buzzing of electricity sounding through the air.

A darkness could be felt from Ulrich as he turned his rage upon the men— the cultists. It was a darkness he kept hidden deep underneath the easy going nature he usually put on for others around him. Kamille's memory of his gentle smile might've been corrupted then.

Sparks of lightning lit his eyes, and through clenched jaw and scowl, Ulrich spoke.

"You will not be spared. You will all be... a pile of broken bones and singed skin when I am done with you..." He clenched his fists tightly, knuckles turning white.

It was only moments ago that he was trying to calm the slow rise of Kamille's anger. Now, it was his fury that began to rapidly charge the air like the coming lightning strikes of a raging storm.

Rage was something she didn't quite understand - she could just feel it. Ulrich's rage was something else entirely, though. She felt a chill down her spine when his voice carried the weigh of thunder and lightning, while she was still trying to take in what was happening.

She always felt so safe and assured of herself back at home. It was her forest, after all. And now these men followed her home, endangering people and creatures she held close to the heart.

It was all her fault.

"Kill them."

A volley of arrows was released upon them, but at least for that her reaction was quick. Golden sand materialized between them and the arrows, swirling in the shape of a wall, heavy enough to have the arrows sunk on it, but not go through.

A more careful archer waited a second longer, and when let his arrow lose, Kamille let out a small, painful sigh.

The painful sound she let out cut through his rage with an echo. It was like time slowed for Ulrich as he glanced back to Kamille. An arrow had pierced her shoulder, and she stumbled back a step or two.

Ulrich's rage boiled over— the concerned expression on his face quickly making way for his fury— and the static charge that hung in the air around him exploded with a thunderous clap. The howling of wind came suddenly as a trail of electricity was left where Ulrich was just standing. In the blink of an eye, everyone saw the archer who had taken the shot was now held in the air by the throat.

Ulrich's hand grasped tightly around the archer's neck as the bow was dropped to the ground in a panic. He attempted to strike at Ulrich to no avail. With his free hand, Ulrich held out two fingers. Everyone watched as lightning started to dance around his fingers, and he brought those fingers to the archer's chest. A thunderous roar echoed through the air as lightning engulfed the archer's body, and a beam ran through him and out his back side. He dropped to the floor motionless, with a panicked look frozen on his face.

The cultists with close ranged weapons now charged Ulrich. He dashed towards his attackers, meeting them head on. The cracking of bones and yells of anguish were muffled by the angry howls of the wind that accompanied Ulrich.

It was as if a storm had formed suddenly, though it was not in the clouds above the forest clearing—no, the storm was the furious Ulrich punishing those who meant he and Kamille harm.

One cultist attempted to stab Ulrich—to which he responded with a pivot to the man's back side, catching his outstretched arm, and breaking it at the elbow with a loud SNAP! The man had no time to scream as Ulrich threw his knee into the man's gut, before driving his head into the ground.

Some of the Cultists began to show fear. They started to back pedal away from him. This was only the beginning of their punishment.

The sharp pain on her shoulder felt like throwing wood into the fire, adding to the build up of her anger. The thought of Mischief's legs up in the air, twitching, was probably what sent over the edge.

The air was filled with electricity, and the wind that howled over the place was soon carriying an unatural heat wave. It felt like, anytime now, the forest could spontaneously catch fire.

Magic started to crack at her fingertips, not in the form of lighting, but in the form of dancing fire. She weaved the flames into the fabric of reality, dancing flawlesly from deep within towards her hands - it was beautiful. The spectacle ended when two balls of fire formed at her hands, and when she stretched her hands in front of her, the fire became one. The huge ball of fire shot out from her hands, and when it landed, the impact was violent: fire splashed in the are where two or three cultists were, sendind a heat wave of bigger proportions and clinging in an unatural way to its victims. Their only hope to get rid of the flames would be to jump into a river right now, their screams as torturing to the ears as their pain from the flesh-consuming fire.

A sharp pain pierced through her mind when she stretched out her arms. Her shoulder was really punishing her for making such move, and now her mind was risking being taken by a fog. She couldn’t let that happen. At some point, she didn’t even realize when, she fell on her knees. With a snap of her fingers, she conjured a smaller flame that consumed the end of the arrow that was sticking out of her back. The flames have already faded from her eyes by now, and all that remained was pain. With one resolved and firm move, one that contained most of her courage that was left, she yanked the arrow off of her shoulder, pressing the wound to try and contain the bleeding.
Her conciousness started to waver.

The heat of fire spread forth engulfing three of the remaining cultists— all fleeing in panic as the flames ate away at them— and now only Ulrich and the Cultist with the sword remained. 

The angry flames danced around them erratically. The Cultist could only perceive most Ulrich's silhouetted shape through the fire— though he could see something else quite clearly— a pair of eyes filled with lightning stared back at him. He could feel the killing intent of the man staring back at him. In the raging fire, Ulrich appeared as a devil to the frightened Cultist. A voice then echoed forth.

"When I am done with you... You will be nothing but a pile of broken bones and singed flesh!"

The repeat of Ulrich's words sent the Cultist's fear into overdrive. He brought his sword up to defend himself. His resolve withered, his blade shaking. The eyes sparked with rage as they noticed his movements. The Cultist opened his mouth, intending to let out a final roar of defiance— but the roar never came. In it's stead, the howl of the wind drowned out all noise as the fire broke open. Lightning streaked across the clearing. Now a grunt of pain could be heard throughout the clearing.

The Cultist had been punched in the stomach. He managed to keep hold of his sword, and attempted to slash down at Ulrich. In a series of quick movement, his wrist was grabbed, a punch to his forearm— shooting pain through his arm— which caused him to lose grip of his weapon. Ulrich spun, delivering a crushing elbow to the Cultist's jaw. Another pivot, and the Cultist felt his ribs break from another elbow. He fell to his knees, violently coughing. He painfully brought his head up to look at Ulrich. He was met by lightning dancing around two fingers pointed towards his face. Before he could scream, the crackle and hiss of electricity rang out.

Ulrich looked to Kamille— his anger quickly subsided as he noticed she was on her knees— he rushed over to her. He gently held her, seeing that she had pulled the arrow from her shoulder.

"Kamille, are you alright?! Kamille!!"

The talent for destruction - for murder - disguised by the day-to-day smiles and pleasantries. She never imagined she'd find it close to her - in Ulrich, of all people. Gentle, warm and careful Ulrich. She was vaguely aware of what was going on around her, her consciousness slowly fading away. Kamille could've been afraid of him, the stormbringer, and yet.... her heart was at ease. That fury was not directed at her, much on the contrary: the storm and the lightning danced around in the clearing to protect her, she knew it.

There was a lot of blood on her, and she knew she had to do something about it before she fainted. She knew her magic to be powerful on the same scale her body was fragile. She pressed her wound, and even while trying to swallow her pain, a muffled grunt escaped her lips as she burned her own skin to avoid bleeding more. Even with her potions and teas, her healing abilities were highly limited - all she could do, for now, was cauterize the wound.

The events of the night became hazy and confusing to her. She had an idea that Ulrich approached her again. Kamille was incredibly pale. Looking around, the flames subsided, and everything else was still. The Cultists were no more. She looked up to Ulrich, fighting to keep her consciousness.

"Looks like I really... glossed over.... that palm reading....."

By the corner of the eye, she caught some movement.

"Mischief?"

The raven was slowly coming back. Still confused and dishoriented, apparently he was just knocked out, his little feet still in the air, struggling to stand up again.