The corridors of the League’s stronghold were rarely silent — steel sang faintly, whispers carried on the air — but tonight, the quiet was strange. Too complete. Nyssa moved like a shadow through it, her steps soundless, her breath steady. Her hand went instinctively to the hilt at her side before her eyes found the source: a small girl, no more than two years old, crouched by one of the water basins, staring at her own reflection as though trying to speak to it. Nyssa froze. Not in fear — but recognition. Something about the child’s stillness, her strange focus, didn’t feel accidental. She crouched slowly, lowering herself to the girl’s level. Her tone softened immediately, voice low and rich with warmth: “And who might you be, little wanderer? You’ve made it rather far past the guards for someone with such small feet.” Nyssa tilted her head, her expression gentle but assessing. “No need for fear. I am Nyssa al Ghul.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “And you, I think, are far too calm to be lost.”She extended her hand, palm open — not as a soldier, but as a sister, a guardian offering trust before command. “Come. Let us find where you belong, hmm? Before my father mistakes you for one of his little tests.” Nyssa blinked once, faintly startled, but her voice remained steady, soft as a lullaby whispered through steel: “There now. Safe, little one. You are safe with me.”