Misunderstood Extra in a Twisted Tale

I sprawled across a rickety table in Rivermist's dingy tavern, the dual axes propped against the wall like sulky bodyguards. Cough, cough—ugh, my lungs were still griping from that scuffle with Leon , mask cracked, box spilled, papers everywhere. Now I had this stupid map—yellowed, crinkled, covered in scribbles—staring me down like a smug riddle. Mya Seraphine lounged beside me, her silver hair spilling over the table's edge, violet eyes glinting with that freaky love-pride combo. Her last laugh, "You guard it all," was stuck in my head like a catchy curse. Why's she gotta make everything sound so epic?!

"Lines and squiggles," I muttered, squinting at the map—old ink, weird symbols, a big X south of town. Cough, cough—I rubbed my chest, glaring at the paper. "What's this junk even mean?!"

Mya's smile flicked on like a trap—sharp, warm, way too intense. "Your treasure," she said, leaning closer—way too close. Her hand brushed my arm—light, fierce—and I glared, swatting it off like a pesky moth. Too slow—damn it!

"Hands off!" I rasped—cough, cough. Her touch—ugh, it's like a spark that won't quit, and I hate it! I shoved the map away, slumping back. The tavern buzzed—drunkards laughing, mugs clinking—but my head was louder. "I don't need your clingy vibes!"

"It's not vibes," she said, voice low, steady—like some cryptic sage. "It's yours." Her fingers twitched near my sleeve—too close—her smile fierce. "You nabbed it, Kain—my thief!"

"Thief?!" I growled, snatching the map back—cough, cough—waving it like a flag. "I didn't nab squat! It fell out when I smashed that clown's face!" Her laugh—bright, wild—hit me, and I hated how it twisted my gut—anger, sure, but something else—ugh, knock it off!

"You're mine," she whispered, sliding closer—way too bold—her hand grazing my chest—warm, firm. Her lips were close—too close!

I jolted back, heat blasting my face—rage, obviously, but maybe… no, shut up! "Yours?!" I rasped, flapping the map at her—slow, too slow. Cough, cough—I glared, all grit and stubbornness. "I'm me, Mya! Not your loot!" Her scent—steel and roses—was frying my brain, and I gripped the map tighter. "Back off already!"

She didn't. Her smile softened—creepy soft—fingers brushing my jaw, quick, clingy. "Not loot," she said, voice dripping with that vow vibe. "My guard—my Kain—I'd kill for you!"

"Kill?!" I scoffed—cough, cough—shoving the map in her face. "You're unhinged!" But her words sank in—Rivermist's not my mess, so why's my gut churning over this paper?! I squinted at it—lines curving, X pulsing like a heartbeat—cough, cough—something clicked. "Oi, this looks like… south woods?!"

The kid—scrawny loudmouth from yesterday—popped up, clutching his sister's hand, yelling, "That's where the shiny guy went!" Cough, cough—I glared at him—big eyes, snotty nose—ugh, he's like a mini-me with worse timing!

"Shiny guy?" I rasped, leaning forward—cough, cough. "You mean Leon?!" The kid nodded—wild, frantic—and I froze—damn it, why's this brat's intel hitting me so hard?!

The bandit leader—big oaf—ambled in, mug sloshing, grinning. "Boss! Kid's yapping—south woods got weird tracks! What's up?!"

"Up?" I rasped, smacking the map on the table—it crinkled—and coughed, steadying myself. "Check it! I'm not your damn riddle-solver!"

He laughed—too jolly. "Aye, boss! You're a whirlwind—cracked that gold jerk's mask!"

"Whirlwind?" I growled, waving the map—cough, cough. "He ran! Say it straight!" But he chuckled—shuffling off, yelling orders—and I shook my head, gritting through the coughs. "Idiots piling on me again!"

The kid tugged my sleeve—sticky fingers—ugh! "You're smart! Figure it out!" Cough, cough—I glared down—he's like me before this dumb life—damn it, why's my chest tight?!

"Figure it?" I rasped, nudging him off—gentle, sorta. "Not my puzzle, brat!" But he stared—stubborn little pest—and I faltered—why's this sticking to me?!

Mya slid closer, her smile fierce, loving—way too much. "He trusts you," she said, voice low. "You're Rivermist's spark, my Kain."

"Your Kain?!" I spun, map up—cough, cough—defiant as hell. "I'm not your brainiac, got it?!" Her look—pride, love—smacked me, and I froze—why's she so deep in my skull when I didn't ask for this?!

"Not a brainiac," she said, soft, fierce. "Mine." She leaned in—too close—grabbing my arm—gentle, stubborn. "You're tougher than his crew—than him!"

I stiffened—her touch burned, her pulse syncing with mine—ugh! "Tougher?" I rasped, pulling back—not far. "I'm a wreck! He's got flash, I've got guts!" Cough, cough—I stood tall, map crinkling, will blazing—nobody swipes my woods!

"Guts?" Her laugh rang—bright, dangerous. "I'd trade his shine for your guts any day!" She leaned closer, lips hovering—fierce, tempting. "You're enough!"

"Enough?!" I growled—cough, cough—but didn't dodge—not yet. "I don't need…" The kid yanked again—"It's a cave!"—and I snapped—cough, cough—glaring at the X. "A cave?! What's that clown digging up?!"

"Cave?" Mya said, smile sharp, wild. "Not his lot alone." She stood beside me, sword out—warm, steady. "Ready?"

"Ready?" I hefted both axes—cough, cough—grinning raggedly. "Nobody digs in my backyard but me!" I barked, "South! Move!"—bandits rallying, the kid darting ahead—yelling.

Mud splashed—wind howled—south woods loomed—trees twisted, shadows deep—a cave mouth gaped—dark, creepy!

I skidded to a halt—cough, cough—axes glinting. A figure—gold glinting—Leon?—vanished inside, torch flickering. "Sneaky trash!" I rasped—cough, cough—gripping the map. That surge flickered—my arm twitched—huh?!

Mya's sword gleamed—her laugh wild. "Mine!" she shouted—spinning to me—pride blazing. "You're mine!"

"Mine?!" I growled—cough, cough—pointing south—grinning. "I'm me!"

The kid tugged—"He's got something!"—I glared—cough, cough—map shaking—scribbles glowing—wait, glowing?! "What the—?!" I rasped—eyes wide—Leon's torch flared inside—gold light pulsing!

"Something?!" I growled—cough, cough—standing tall. "He's toast!" Bandits cheered—the kid bounced—"Go!"

I sank into a crouch—cough, cough—axes ready—grinning—ragged. "What's this junk glowing for?" I muttered—staring at the map—gold lines pulsing—alive?!

Mya knelt—hand on my cheek—gentle, fierce. "You guard it all," she whispered—love raw—fingers brushing my lip.

"Guard?!" I swatted her off—cough, cough—glaring—but grinned—damn it. "Crazy!"

"Crazy," she echoed—standing—smile fierce—eyes blazing—sword up. "Yours!"

I glared—cough, cough—map glowing—gripping an axe—smirking. "Maybe," I muttered—eyes locked south—cave pulsing—Leon's torch flickering. "Guess I'm raiding my own backyard!" The kid cheered