Morning Shift

The village felt still in the morning light. Broken roofs caught sharp beams of sun that sliced through the old rafters, casting shadows over the worn stone and dust-caked paths. The air was warm already, just enough breeze to make the edges of the tents flutter.

Karlach was already crouched near the fire, poking at the pan with the flat of her axe, humming something that didn’t have a tune. Shadowheart sat not far off, arms crossed beneath her chest, one leg pulled up toward her. Her gaze kept darting toward Lae’zel’s tent, which hadn't opened yet. She tried to be subtle about it, but her glances kept drifting. Expectant.

Wyll paced further out, swinging his sword in slow arcs, narrating to himself like he had an invisible audience clapping for every flourish.

Then the tent flap shifted.

Lae’zel stepped out slowly, posture stiff with something that definitely wasn’t pride. She looked to the side at first, chin lifted in a **** neutrality—like if she didn’t acknowledge the change, it wouldn’t exist.

But it did.

Her body had changed—softened in places, curved in ways that demanded attention. Her breasts had swelled enough to strain her old chestplate, forcing her to piece together something new: a high-shouldered corset-like top that hugged her waist and left her cleavage exposed supported by a small plate of shimmering metal. Her hips were subtly broader, thighs fuller, and her lower armor now consisted of short, dark leather shorts and thigh-high stockings. She looked like a weapon forged to distract as much as destroy—curved in all the right places, and impossible not to notice.

She made no comment. Just kept walking like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Karlach let out a long whistle. "Well, someone woke up on the right side of the bed."

Lae’zel shot her a glance. "My garments no longer fit. I had to change them."

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. "Funny how that works out. You dont look so 'efficient' anymore."

Lae’zel blinked. "I did not choose this!"

"Maybe you should hold back on the rations, just to be safe..” Shadowheart muttered, arms folded.

Lae’zel shot her an icy glare. “YOU DARE—"

Before it got sharper, I stepped in. "Alright, ladies. Lae’zel, whatever you've done with that armor—don't stop. Shadowheart, play nice and I'll deal with you later. For now we need to focus on the Goblin camp,"

Lae’zel finally made eye contact with me. Brief. Accepting.

Shadowheart noticed. Her lips pressed into a sharp line.

Karlach shrugged and tossed me a smile. "You really do have a way with words. Looking forward to hearing what kind you save for me tonight."

Wyll turned from his sword practice just in time to catch the tail end of Karlach’s remark. "Lae’zel! I didn’t see you right yesterday. Have you always looked... like that?"

She didn’t dignify that with a response. I didn’t either.

He cleared his throat. "Should I join you on the field?"

"You’re staying to guard the camp," I said.

He gave a solemn nod. "Then the Blade of the Frontiers will stand vigil."

We headed out without further delay.

The path out of the village wound along old stone walls and scattered debris. We moved fast, crossing a narrow wooden bridge spanning a deep ravine, then pressed on into broken terrain where brush and the remains of forgotten barricades gave us cover.

I crouched behind a shrub. The others followed my lead, eyes scanning the rise ahead.

Four goblins. Two wargs, huge wolf-like things. A fifth goblin perched on a ledge above, turning his head in slow arcs, watching the trail.

I knew that spot. Knew the range. We were just outside it.

Shadowheart moved in beside me. "What’s the plan?"

Karlach grinned, rolling her shoulders. "Please say ****."

Lae’zel drew her heavy blade with a slow, practiced hand. Her new curves didn’t slow her down one bit.

I looked back at them all, lips curling.

"I think we should introduce ourselves.."