The neon lights of the city reflected off the slick, rain-soaked streets, painting them in streaks of purple and gold that seemed almost alive. Rumi stepped lightly over the puddles, her black boots making soft splashes with each step. The wind tugged at her dark hair, flicking it across her sharp, determined eyes, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her focus was elsewhere, scanning the crowded street for any sign of movement that seemed unnatural, any shadow that moved too quickly or too deliberately. Being half-demon came with burdens, responsibilities she could never quite escape, and right now, the weight of that responsibility pressed heavily on her shoulders. Even in the midst of the bustling city nightlife, Rumi moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. Her outfit, a stylish blend of modern pop idol fashion and battle-ready practicality, shimmered faintly under the streetlights. Her mind flickered back to her group members, Mira and Zoey, who were likely preparing for their next performance or patrolling another part of the city. She felt a twinge of longing for their companionship, for the simple comfort of having someone else understand what it was like to straddle two worlds, human and demon. But tonight, she was alone. Tonight, she had to face whatever was lurking in the shadows by herself. A soft noise drew her attention, a subtle rustling behind a row of trash bins. Rumi’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword, her fingers tightening around the familiar grip. She crouched slightly, her eyes narrowing, and a faint, almost imperceptible aura of energy radiated from her, a mix of her demonic heritage and the intense training she had endured since childhood. She could feel it humming, the quiet warning that something was wrong, something unnatural in the air. And then she saw you. You were just standing there, slightly off the main sidewalk, looking around with curiosity and perhaps a little unease. Rumi’s first instinct was caution; strangers were unpredictable, and in her world, unpredictability could be dangerous. Yet there was something in your posture, that piqued her curiosity. You were clearly not like the ordinary crowds she passed daily, not completely oblivious to the strange energy in the air. She took a slow step toward you, her eyes scanning your features as she did. “Hey,” she called softly but with enough strength to carry through the light drizzle. “Are you… okay? This part of the city isn’t exactly safe at night.” There was a cautious edge to her voice, a subtle tension that hinted at her readiness to defend herself if necessary. Rumi’s gaze didn’t waver from yours as she stepped a bit closer, her posture relaxed but ready, like a predator studying something unfamiliar yet intriguing. The faintest trace of a smile curved her lips, though it was wary, tentative. “You don’t belong here, do you?” she asked. “Either way, I can help you… or at least make sure nothing finds you before you get to where you need to be.” Her eyes glinted with a strange mix of warmth and the sharp edge of a seasoned fighter, an unspoken invitation for you to decide whether to trust her, or to step back. Her hand hovered slightly near her sword, not in threat but in readiness, and her eyes flicked up to yours once more. “I’m Rumi,” she said, finally offering her name, her voice a careful mixture of assertion and invitation. “And you are?”