Misunderstood Extra in a Twisted Tale

I crouched in the cave's bone pit, the dual axes propped beside me like sulky watchdogs. Cough, cough—ugh, my lungs were still grumbling from that trapdoor tumble , but here I was, poking a glowing book with a stick like some idiot hero. The thing shimmered—old, gold-crusted, words wiggling on the page—mocking me! Mya Seraphine perched on a skull nearby, her silver hair glinting in the torchlight, violet eyes twinkling with that freaky love-pride mix—now spiked with a teasing gleam. Her last wink, "Yours," was bouncing in my head like a cheeky imp. Why's she gotta make everything a game?!

"Wiggly words," I muttered, jabbing the book—cough, cough—it pulsed brighter, gold light flaring. I glared at my axes, rubbing my chest. "This junk's alive or something!"

Mya's smile flicked on like a prank—sharp, warm, way too smug. "Your junk's got spirit," she teased, leaning closer—way too close. Her hand brushed my shoulder—light, fierce—and I glared, swatting it off like a pesky glowbug. Too slow—damn it!

"Hands off!" I rasped—cough, cough. Her touch—ugh, it's like a spark of lunacy, and I hate it! I scooted back, torch flickering. The pit creaked—bones rattling, air damp—but my head was louder. "I don't need your goofy tricks!"

"It's not tricks," she said, voice low, playful—like some sly sprite. "It's charming." Her fingers twirled near my hair—too close—her smile fierce. "My Kain's poking books—so cute!"

"Cute?!" I growled, jabbing the stick harder—cough, cough—the book flared, gold sparks popping. "I'm not your dumb mascot, got it?! I'm here 'cause this thing's mine!" 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 chirped, hopping closer—way too chipper—her hand grazing my back—warm, firm. Her lips puckered—teasingly close!

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

She didn't. Her smile widened—cheeky soft—fingers tickling my ear, quick, clingy. "Not a hero," she giggled, voice dripping with that vow vibe. "My guard—my Kain—so daring! I'd die for you!"

"Die?!" I scoffed—cough, cough—shoving the stick in her face. "You're a total weirdo!" But her giggle stuck—Rivermist's not my mess, so why's my gut yelling to crack this book?! I squinted at it—words swirling, gold veins pulsing—cough, cough—something clicked. "Oi, these look like… names?!"

The kid—snotty loudmouth—popped up, clutching a femur like a trophy, yelling, "It's glowing more!" Cough, cough—I glared at him—big eyes, grubby hands—ugh, he's like a mini-me with zero chill!

"Glowing more?" I rasped, poking the book—cough, cough—it hummed, gold light strobing—words sharpening—Kain… Mya… Leon?! "What's my name doing here?!"

The bandit leader—big oaf—lumbered down, torch sloshing shadows, grinning. "Boss! Book's buzzing—bones shaking! What's up?!"

"Up?" I rasped, smacking the stick on a skull—it clattered—and coughed, steadying myself. "Watch it! I'm not your damn sage!"

He chuckled—too jolly. "Aye, boss! You're a wildfire—found that creepy thing!"

"Wildfire?" I growled, waving the stick—cough, cough. "It fell! Say it straight!" But he laughed—shuffling back, 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! Read it!" Cough, cough—I glared down—he's like me before this dumb life—damn it, why's my chest thumping?!

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

Mya hopped closer, her smile fierce, teasing—way too much. "He worships you," she chirped, voice low. "My Kain's a genius—so sweet!"

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

"Not brainy," she giggled, soft, fierce. "Mine." She twirled closer—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, torch flaring, will blazing—nobody writes my name but me!

"Guts?" Her laugh rang—bright, dangerous. "I'd trade his shine for your guts any day!" She spun closer, lips puckering—fierce, teasing. "You're perfect!"

"Perfect?!" I growled—cough, cough—but didn't dodge—not yet. "I don't need…" The kid yanked again—"It's moving!"—and I snapped—cough, cough—glaring at the book—words swirling—Kain Rivel—glow pulsing—huh?!

"Moving?" Mya chirped, smile sharp, wild—sword out—playful twinkle. "Not his alone." She knelt beside me, torch high—warm, steady. "Ready?"

"Ready?" I hefted both axes—cough, cough—grinning raggedly—poking the book—gold flared—words shifted—Mya Seraphine—Leon Valtor—then… blank?! "Nobody scribbles my crew but me!" I barked, "Hold it!"—bandits rallying, the kid gawking—yelling.

Bones rattled—gold pulsed—pit trembled—a voice hissed—deep, smug—"Fools!"—Leon's echo—torchlight dimmed—book snapped shut—bit my stick—crunch!

"Bite?!" I rasped—cough, cough—yanking back—stick gone—book glowing—gold veins fading—silence dropped—creepy calm! "What's this hungry junk?!"

Mya giggled—hand on my shoulder—gentle, fierce—twirling my hair. "My Kain's fighting books—so brave!"

"Fighting?!" I shoved her off—cough, cough—staring at the book—grinning—ragged. "Crazy!"

"Crazy," she chirped—standing—smile fierce—eyes twinkling—sword poking the book—gold flared—then dimmed—still as stone. "Yours!"

I froze—cough, cough—torch low—bones quiet—book dark—Leon's hiss gone—south wind whispering—soft, eerie—huh?! "Maybe," I muttered—grinning—grabbing a bone—tapping the book—nothing—dead?! "Guess it's napping!" The kid gasped—wild—bandits murmured—awed—and I stood—cough, cough—grit in my stance—Mya winking—playful—no crowd—just us—til a faint hum sparked—south—gold flickering—something waking?!