She had not used the portal to travel to another world in a long time. Months. It was as nauseating as she had remembered, but by now she had hardened herself to the inconveniences of using the Ring. Six months in exile, of running from her enemies, protecting her family, and hunting monsters, had left their mark on her, body and soul. Sapphire-blue eyes peered around the desert ruin, one eye duller than the other, a scar running down from her left brow to her cheek. The Ring had been able to restore some vision to it, but she had acquired the injury during those hellish days when she seemed to have done nothing but fight to stay alive day in and day out. There was only so much its healing power could do, and Kire found it unnecessary to waste magical energy just to make scars completely disappear. And so the three huge dragon scars on her back were joined by others. Mark of an arrow wound on her left shoulder. Faint traces of gashes on her arms. Her golden hair cropped short now, never letting it grow past her nape. For as long as her body functioned the way it should, Kire hadn’t bothered to find a way to get rid of these marks. 

Now she was here on unfinished business. Her armor, as roughed-up as it looked, had layers of magical protection beaten into it over the past half-year. Her helmet, obscuring most of her face, still bore the Wyvern insignia upon it, though she now debated whether she should have appeared in more inconspicuous garb. But some part of her needed to don the dragon-armor, besides the obvious need for protection. This was her quarry, the one she had let slip between her fingers, who had led her on a merry chase that had augured the dark days that followed. In the wild days when survival had been paramount, she had almost completely forgotten her duty as Paladin, but when the Seer came to her, reminding her of her failed mission, Kire knew she needed to redeem herself before she could redeem the crown. She would make the bastards pay: first Ikegai, then Gael, and she would make things right, as she had been trying to do all this time. 

[i]This place had known death. The stink of his magic—and others.[/i] If there was one thing these months of hell had done well for her, it was to sharpen her senses when it came to magic. Granted, she was still no sorcerer, and her own magic is limited to her ties to the Ring and her blood, what skills she needed to defend and hunt, but it had given her a sort of cunning, like a sixth sense A taste in the air, a certain smell, a sensation in her fingertips: these were how magical traces manifested to her. She had a small satchel of supplies, a hunting knife at her hip, and in her right hand, drawn from its scabbard and gleaming white, a longsword, forged from, and bound to, her sharp Will. He’s been here, but he’s long gone. Still, she could perhaps find some lead to his whereabouts around here, or at least find out what had happened to this godsforsaken place.

A voice shattered her quiet pondering. She had assessed earlier that those shadows flitting about—survivors, scavengers, beggars, thieves—weren’t much of a threat, but this new voice was a different matter. She turned towards the sound, found she couldn’t spot the man who threatened her. No doubt he had the higher ground here and was making sure he was hidden well. Not some amateur, then. A whiff of something different—[i]magic?[/i] But she couldn’t tell if it was this man or something else. It was confusing to sort out amid the strong traces of death tied to Ikegai’s blood magic, but it was there, all around her, sunk into the ground. Being in a different world, the magic here had a different feel from Amrian spellwork. She didn’t know how dangerous it would be yet, but she wasn’t leaving. 

“I will not be here long,” she called back, keeping her eyes in the direction of the voice, waiting to see if he would give his position away. “I am hunting my quarry. Once I’ve picked up his trail, I will leave.” She stayed still, her voice clear and steady, but she didn’t drop her sword or sheath it. “I’d like to know what happened to this place, and who had been responsible.”