The road stretched out ahead, dry and winding, as the four of them made their way down from the hills beyond the Temple of Thalorien. Dust clung to their boots, and the late sun cast long shadows behind them, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple.

Darin walked in front, ever the self-declared leader, staff in hand and humming some heroic tune under his breath, though there was a certain stiffness in his movements betraying his discomfort with their mission. Kaela trailed just behind him, sword slung across her back, her brow furrowed with irritation rather than determination.

"Still can't believe this is real," she muttered, glancing toward the summoned hero walking beside her. "A prophecy that says we have to... mate with you? To become stronger? It sounds like some old priest's fantasy."

Sylvenia's cheeks burned crimson with embarrassment. She kept her eyes downcast as she walked, fingers nervously twisting the strap of her quiver. The elven archer had barely spoken since leaving the temple, though occasional glances toward their new companion revealed a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"It's supposed to awaken your dormant strengths," Darin explained, adjusting his robe with a self-important air. "With the hero's consent, obviously. Divine blessings come in many forms, and we mustn't question the will of the gods."

The journey from the temple had been short but tense. The high priestess's words still echoed in their minds: "The strength to defeat the Demon Lord lies not in steel or spell alone. Only through daily, consensual union—by joining with the otherworldly hero—will the chosen two awaken the power of the Moon Arrow and Flame Blade."

It had sounded absurd then. Still did. But here they were, heading toward the frontier town of Brackenhold where their first mission awaited—investigating reports of disappearances near an ancient ruin said to contain artifacts of power.

Not exactly the dream team. But it was a start. And their journey had only just begun.