"咳咳，老李，你那坛子里的三 Türkiyen köyु sıvıyı tut today?" I leaned over the bar, eyes narrowed as I wiped down the counter with a rag. The bell above the door chimed, the sound of a young man's footsteps echoing through the dimly lit tavern. My head snapped up, and I spotted him stepping in, closely followed by a woman with auburn hair and a determined look in her eyes.

"Nova," she said, her voice sharp and clear as a blade.

Nova, my grand-niece, was a firecracker wrapped in a whirlwind. She'd taken to the tavern like a fish to water, though her skills with a blade were still honed by moonlight practices in the family's backyard.

"Ah, Nova, and the girl," I said, grinning. "You're late."

"She's not late for anything," the woman replied, sliding into the booth opposite me. "She has a mission."

The woman was Elena, head of the DragonSlayers' Guild. She was tall, with eyes that could pierce through lies like a dragon's fang, and a reputation that preceded her like thunder.