Miss Pivotal

In the very instant Seraphine had braced for certain death, a sudden sight caught her eyes – a vivacious little lolita, arrayed in black feathered garb and petite red dancing shoes, hopped and skipped to where the petrified beings had vanished. The spark in the young girl's eyes locked onto a stone turtle of uniform gray, lying upon the ground. With a bend and a stretch of her small hand, adorned in black lace gloves, she picked it up.

"And now, you owe me a favor. Don't forget, I expect a tasty treat as my reward!" she exclaimed.

Elyra tossed the stone turtle to Grayson, who, with an elegant flourish of his silver sword, split it asunder. A tremor shook the earth, and the encircling megaliths thunderously receded into the ground, leaving no trace behind.

It had all been orchestrated in the blink of an eye; at the precise moment when Grayson and Morven shattered two of the stone figures, Elyra, already signaled by Grayson, had wriggled out from beneath his broad-brimmed hat and scampered across the ground to the last of the stone people. The sly little sprite purposefully delayed for mere seconds, and just as the stone figure was about to vanish, she shot a paralyzing ray from her eyes, rooting it to the spot, before casting a spell to transform it into a stone turtle.

Upon witnessing the alarmed, sweat-drenched faces of Seraphine, Morven, and Katheren, the corners of her lips curled into a smile that was both proud and mischievously sinister.

"All you care about is eating. With so much danger afoot, you couldn't be bothered to lend a hand, and now you demand treats for minor deeds!" Grayson strode up and gently patted the little girl's head. The little lolita, clutching her head, looked up and sulkily declared, "I don't have to mind everything, just call me Miss Pivotal!"

"More like Miss Glutton!" Grayson chuckled, his hand playfully tousling her short, dark purple locks, turning them into a tousled mess, before he turned and strode away towards the exit.

"You've messed up my feathers... I mean, my hair! Stop right there!" The little girl, simultaneously trying to smooth her ruffled hair and bouncing after Grayson, left Seraphine and the others to exchange relieved chuckles and swiftly follow.

Grayson, unwilling to walk, let a little owl perch atop his head, and together with his three companions, they moved past the stone circle. Along the way, he introduced Elyra to Morven, who greeted the little lolita warmly, "Hello, little darling, I'm Morven."

Elyra cast him a disdainful glance and retorted, "No wonder the bipedal dragons of the Death Swamp couldn't be bothered to eat you. I'm not fond of skinny old rats that are all bones either!"

The comment sent Grayson, Seraphine, and Katheren into bouts of laughter. Morven's face flushed as red as a ripe tomato, and with an embarrassed smile, he helplessly gazed at the little furball.

Grayson, trying to contain his laughter to smooth things over for Morven, was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a red-robed grand mage at the valley's entrance, flanked by soldiers clad in full-coverage armor, who barred their way with intimidating presence.

"By trespassing on the Isle of Frost and disrupting the stone circle, you must face punishment!" the grand mage commanded without waiting for a response, directing his staff at the group. The armored soldiers surged forward, transforming into a hail of armor pieces that swiftly ensnared the four companions within a steely grasp.

At the grand mage's command, the armor forced the quartet to turn and follow him out of the circle.

"Where did this old coot come from?" Grayson muttered through gritted teeth from within his metallic prison.

The little owl atop his head, now squeezed by the all-enveloping helmet, pecked at him in reproach, "You blundering bear, always dragging me into your mess!"

"When we feast together, you never complain," retorted Grayson, grimacing from the peck. Another sharp peck silenced him, and he quickly begged for mercy, "Stop that, you're not a woodpecker! Just endure a little longer; I'll figure something out."

Despite his assurances, he had no plan and was left to march forward encased in the iron armor. They trudged through the wilderness for what seemed an eternity until dusk fell, and the grand mage lit the tip of his staff, illuminating their path through the blinding snowfield with a celestial glow.

After about an hour's travel under the snowy night sky, a radiant glow broke through the darkness, revealing a majestic castle in the distance. Towering turrets adorned with sparkling magic

crystals shone brilliantly atop the fortress walls, bathing the surroundings in daylight brightness.

A towering white spire pierced the heavens at the castle's heart – the renowned Mage Tower of the Eurolian continent, sitting at the center of Glint City, the ultimate sanctum of the white magicians.

The grand mage led the four captives and the armored cohort to the gates of Glint City, where a magic drawbridge lowered automatically, leading to an oval-shaped portal at the bridge's end. Under his command, the iron-clad soldiers marched in a neat formation through the portal and into the castle.

The sounds of their footsteps transitioned from the crunching of snow to the crisp clangs on solid ground. Grayson heard the iron gate swing open, and after several halts, the armor unbuckled from his body. Turning to look, he saw an iron-barred door slam shut with force.

"Stay here and await the High Master's judgment," boomed the grand mage's voice, echoing down the corridor before fading away.

"Well, we're home," Grayson quipped, glancing at the dungeon door before tossing his hat onto the soft bed behind him.

"Though that old man with the white beard has a terrible temper, I must admit their beds are quite comfortable," he yawned, lying down. Exhausted from two days and a night without sleep, weariness washed over him.

The little owl emerged from the hat and hopped onto Grayson's chest, wide-eyed. "Hey, wake up! You can't seriously be planning to sleep here all night, can you?" Elyra chirped.

Grayson grunted and turned his head, feigning sleep. The owl's gaze lingered before she transformed back into her girlish form, flopping onto him.

"Oof! Curses!" Grayson gasped under the sudden weight, struggling to sit up, only to find Elyra laying on his legs, looking up at him. He frowned with a mix of irritation and amusement, "Princess, could you let me sleep in peace?"

"Is this really the time for sleep?" Elyra pouted defiantly.

"Fine, listen, go out, tell Morven they haven't done me in, then fetch the keys to this cell, and bring them here. Off you go, and don't disturb my sleep until you've got them, goodnight, kiddo."

Grayson rattled off his plan, absentmindedly stroking Elyra's fluffy black hair before settling back down with a snore.

"You lazy beast, may you never catch prey in the forest again," Elyra muttered, though she quickly retracted the curse, realizing she'd go hungry if Grayson failed. With a few dismissive spits, she hopped off the bed, transformed back into an owl, and squeezed through the cell bars.

Perched in the corridor, Elyra didn't seek out Morven and the others. Instead, she found a small window fit for a bird and flew out into the night sky. After soaring for a moment, she landed atop a tower's spire.

"Hmm, what's that over there?" she mused, peering towards the southeastern sky. A foreboding black cloud approached the castle, and amidst it, she could faintly discern armored knights riding winged monsters, an ominous sign of hostile intent.

Before she could ascertain their identity, a massive griffin swooped from the heavens, its talons aiming for the tiny owl, barely larger than one of its claws.