At Transvitae.com, our mission has always been clear—to uplift, showcase, and provide a platform for every aspect of the transgender community. From news and advocacy to personal stories and creative works, we strive to be a space where transgender individuals can share their voices without limitation.
One of our early contributors to the Nerd Vortex section, Val’lyn De’ana, has been a passionate writer, bringing insightful perspectives to gaming, fantasy, and storytelling. Recently, she approached me with a request—could she share some of her short stories on Transvitae? I didn’t hesitate for a second. This is exactly what TransVitae is about.
It’s an honor to present Val’lyn’s first short story in this space, a thrilling tale of courage, skill, and identity. We hope you enjoy it as much as we do.
I. The Cold Watch
The Dock Ward of Waterdeep never truly slept. Even in the dead of night, when the honest merchants had locked their doors and the watch patrols dwindled, the underbelly of the city thrived. It was here, perched on the slanted roof of an old warehouse, that Val’lyn De’ana watched her mark.
The smuggler moved with purpose, his cloak drawn tight against the damp air. Val’lyn had been shadowing him for hours, tracking him from the Market District, through winding alleys, and down to the docks. It had been an easy tail; he wasn’t careful, didn’t check his surroundings enough. A man who thought himself safe in his own city.
She adjusted her grip on the worn leather of her bracers, scanning the streets below. He wasn’t carrying cargo, nor did he stop to make any transactions. That meant he wasn’t here to deliver goods—he was meeting someone.
A breeze rolled in off the harbor, carrying the salt of the sea and the stench of rotting fish. The smuggler ducked into a side alley, slipping behind the sagging wooden exterior of The Rusted Tankard, a tavern known for dealing in coin that never saw a tax collector.
Val’lyn dropped soundlessly from the rooftop, her feet hitting the cobblestones with practiced ease. She crept forward, pressing herself against the warped wood of the tavern’s exterior. Voices murmured inside, thick with the cadence of a business deal. But the words—those made her blood turn to ice.
“These ones are strong. Good for labor, if you don’t mind breaking ‘em in.”
A pause. A rustling of chains.
“Too young. I don’t deal in kids.”
“You don’t, but others do. I know a buyer in Skullport who’d take the whole lot.”
Val’lyn swallowed. Slavers. Not cargo, but people. She had heard rumors, of course. The black-market trade was something the watch turned a blind eye to in the lower districts. But she had never seen it firsthand.
Her orders were clear: observe and report. Do not interfere.
But if she left now, by the time she returned with a squad, these people would be long gone.
She exhaled slowly. Orders be damned.
II. The Wrong Turn
The side entrance was unlocked. That was their first mistake. Val’lyn slipped inside, pressing herself against the shadows as she took in the scene. The tavern’s back room had been converted into a makeshift auction block—crates lined the walls, lanterns cast flickering light, and in the center, shackled figures knelt on the dirt-covered floor.
Val’lyn counted seven captives. Three men, two women, and two children—a boy and a girl, barely old enough to understand what was happening.
A stocky man, presumably the smuggler, was gesturing toward them as he bartered with a hooded buyer. Two armed guards flanked the entrance to the main bar, their hands resting on their weapons, but they weren’t paying attention.
Good. They wouldn’t see her coming.
She took stock of her surroundings. The wooden beams above were old, with smoke-blackened rafters that looked brittle enough to splinter with the right amount of force. A plan formed in her mind—a distraction, something that would throw them into chaos long enough to get these people out.
She reached into her belt pouch, fingers curling around the smooth glass of a smoke powder vial she had lifted from a careless alchemist weeks ago. She hesitated only a moment before throwing it.
Glass shattered against the far wall. Thick, choking smoke erupted outward, filling the room.
The smoke spread quickly, dark tendrils curling around the wooden beams, making the dim lantern light flicker wildly. Val’lyn heard the smuggler curse, then the clang of metal as one of the guards stumbled into a crate.
Chaos. Just as planned.
III. A Choice That Isn’t a Choice
Shouts erupted from within the fog. The smuggler cursed, the guards stumbled, and in that instant, Val’lyn moved.
She darted forward, slashing the bindings of the nearest prisoner—a gaunt-looking man whose wrists were rubbed raw. He gasped as his hands came free, staring at her in disbelief.
“Run,” she whispered, already moving to the next captive.
Through the swirling smoke, she caught glimpses of movement—figures stumbling, a blade flashing. One of the guards had drawn his sword, swinging wildly.
She ducked, rolling across the floor and grabbing a loose chair, using it to deflect another wild swing. The impact splintered wood, knocking her sideways. She scrambled back to her feet, spinning low to kick the guard’s legs out from under him.
He crashed to the ground with a grunt, but another shape loomed in the smoke—a second guard, lunging toward her.
Val’lyn had seconds to react. She feinted left, then drove the hilt of her dagger into the soft flesh beneath his ribs. He gasped in pain but didn’t drop. Instead, he swung blindly, nearly clipping her shoulder.
She dodged again, twisting his arm behind his back and using his own momentum to slam him against the nearest crate. He groaned, collapsing in a daze.
The smoke was starting to clear. The smuggler was barking orders, his voice thick with rage. More guards were coming.
Not enough time.
IV. The Escape
The children. She had to get them out.
Val’lyn seized the rusted key ring from the fallen smuggler, but as she fumbled with the shackles around the girl’s wrists, the lock resisted. It was old and rusted—likely prone to jamming.
She cursed under her breath and forced herself to slow down. Panic wouldn’t help her now.
Memories of her childhood surfaced. Her father’s alchemy lab. The only locked door in their home. The nights she had spent crouched outside it, methodically working at the lock with whatever thin metal she could get her hands on. He had never taught her, had never wanted her to learn. So she had taught herself.
Her fingers moved instinctively now, tracing the lock’s mechanisms, feeling for the tension points. She reached into her belt, retrieving the slender picks she had carried since she was old enough to need them.
A breath. A turn. A faint click.
The shackle snapped open. The girl gasped but didn’t waste a second, rubbing her wrists as Val’lyn turned to the next captive.
The boy. Another lock. Another click. Faster this time.
She could hear the guards regaining their footing behind her, boots scraping against the floorboards. The smuggler barked orders through the thinning smoke. They wouldn’t have much longer before the room was swarmed.
One of the freed prisoners—a scarred half-elf—grabbed a fallen blade. “Go,” he rasped. “I’ll hold them.”
She wanted to argue. But there was no time.
A blade whistled through the air, narrowly missing her as she twisted away. The smuggler had regained his footing, rage twisting his features. He charged, swinging a club aimed straight for her ribs.
Val’lyn barely had time to drop into a low roll, coming up behind him. Instead of striking to kill, she twisted his wrist, forcing the club from his grip, and slammed her shoulder into his chest, sending him sprawling backward.
By the time he recovered, she had already grabbed the children’s hands and bolted for the door.
V. Aftermath—The Weight of the First Cut
The alley was empty when they emerged. Val’lyn ushered the freed captives toward the city’s quieter streets, her heart still pounding. The children clung to each other, eyes wide with exhaustion and fear, but alive. That was what mattered.
As she reached the safer parts of the city, she heard the distant echoes of shouts from the tavern. The slavers had discovered their escape. She moved faster, making sure the captives disappeared into the warren of alleys that would lead them away from danger. She stayed until she was certain they were gone, then slipped back into the night.
By the time she returned to her commander, she had already decided on the report.
“Smuggling operation,” she told him, voice steady. “Contraband, no captives. They scattered before I could engage.”
Her superior grunted, barely paying attention. “Nothing worth following up on, then.”
She nodded. Saluted. Walked away.
Only when she reached her barracks did she pull the dagger from her belt. Her hands were still shaking.
She scrubbed it clean, watching as the red swirled down the basin. It wasn’t much blood, just a small trace of what had come from the guard she had struck. The jab had been well-placed, disabling him without doing serious harm. He would wake with a bruised rib, maybe a deep ache for a few days—but he would live.
She exhaled a slow breath, forcing her hands to still. She hadn’t killed him.
That realization settled in her chest, heavier than she expected. She had fought before, trained to disable, to strike with precision. But this was the first time it had mattered.
She didn’t regret saving them. She didn’t regret fighting.
But she would remember it. The way her blade had met resistance, the way the man had crumpled, the way she had made a choice and acted before doubt could stop her.
Lying back on the cot, she let exhaustion take hold, her mind drifting in a haze of lingering adrenaline and quiet satisfaction.
She had done the right thing.
But she didn’t sleep, either.
The End
Val’lyn’s journey is just beginning, and Transvitae.com is honored to share her stories with you. If you enjoyed this tale of stealth, courage, and quick thinking, let us know! Stay tuned for more adventures from Val’lyn and other incredible transgender storytellers. Your support helps us continue to be a platform for creativity, representation, and community. Keep reading, keep exploring, and keep lifting each other up!
