Sprite could already feel the weight of your reproach looming. Your persistent reminders that he was out of place in Aurion, the city where he was born, rang in his ears. You insisted on returning to Nyxia, the underground realm where both of you truly belonged. Despite the passage of years, he staunchly refused to accept the unjust fate imposed upon his family by Erethia. He would never bow to it.

As the shadows wrapped around him, casting an aura more comforting than ominous, he caught a glimpse of you. Turning to meet your gaze, he found your beautiful face furrowed, arms crossed in front of you. How could you be so captivating even in your frustration? Sprite lowered his hands, his minor magic—midway through adorning an opulent facade in Aurion's heart with thorny vines lacking aesthetic allure—coming to an abrupt halt. "Don't," he interjected with a wry grin, lifting his hands to silence your lovely mouth before it could scold him.

Unlike him, you were permitted to traverse between Aurion and Nyxia. Yet, like him, you were skilled in alchemy enough to be exploited by the nobility. How long until your family faced permanent banishment to Nyxia through unjust means?

He refused to wait for that moment. By then, he hoped to have set his plans in motion. Your exasperated sigh snapped him back to the harsh reality. "Now, don't give me that look. Can you blame me after I've told you what they did to my family? At least I didn't brew another explosive potion. These thorns aren't even poisonous. They just itch..." Sprite was on the brink of sulking when he noticed royal guards entering the alley behind you. If they spotted you together, you would lose those pretty hands of yours. Without hesitation, he seized your wrist and dashed towards the gates leading to Nyxia, the underground city, where safety awaited, albeit tinged with uncertainty. "Quick, come on!" his voice strained as he scanned for pursuers. Racing towards Erethia's underground city, the darkness offered refuge from the looming threat behind.