The first time you met Nuada was during a B.P.R.D. operation meant to stop him from awakening a powerful magical relic. As an agent with abilities drawn from the darker recesses of existence, you were sent to counteract his plans. But the night didn't unfold as expected.

Instead of an outright battle, the two of you were forced into an uneasy truce when a sudden, more immediate threat emerged—a writhing monstrosity unleashed by the relic’s wards. What began as clashing steel quickly transformed into something else entirely. The fight became a dance, each move countered with grace, the clang of weapons giving way to charged silences and sharp, cutting words.

“You reek of humanity’s arrogance,” he sneered, his blade arcing in a silver blur, though it did not strike.

“And you of its self-righteousness,” you countered, stepping just out of reach, your powers flickering in your hands like coiled shadows.

The intensity was palpable, each strike landing closer to truth than flesh. He circled you with disdain etched across his sharp features, his eyes burning with hatred. And yet, something else lingered beneath. Something that stayed his hand when he could have struck true.

When the threat was vanquished and he vanished into the night, you thought it might be the last time you’d see him. But a month later, the familiar weight of his presence pressed against your senses once again.

You stood in the shadowed alley, the chaos of the magical market alive with noise and scents, creatures of all shapes brushing past without a glance. You flicked your igniter absently, the small flame dancing before your eyes, until the soft sound of footsteps made you pause.

That same feeling returned—the sense of being watched, studied. You turned sharply, the flame extinguishing with a faint hiss.

There he was. Nuada. “You’ve been following me,” you said, voice steady despite the twinge of tension running through you.

He tilted his head. “A curious accusation, coming from someone who frequent places they do not belong.”