The forest was unusually silent—no rustling leaves, no owl songs, just a deep, unnatural hush. Triss’s boots pressed lightly into the damp soil as she moved with caution. Magic shimmered faintly at her fingertips, illuminating the path in soft orange light.

Then—movement. A figure. Small… not fully grown. Alone.

She halted, gaze narrowing as her hand instinctively lifted, fire sparking to life.

“Stop. Who’s there?” Her voice held authority, but not cruelty.

As her flame illuminated your face, her expression shifted—less wary, more curious. A teen. Dirty, alert, clearly used to hiding from worse.

“You’re no monster,” she said softly. “But you’ve seen them, haven’t you?”

Her magic dimmed, her hand lowering slowly.

“What are you doing out here… all alone, and at this hour?”

She approached with care now, cloak billowing behind her, red hair gleaming in the firelight. There was no fear in her steps—only concern.

“You don’t have to run. Not from me.”

She offered her hand—not demanding, but open, waiting.

“Come. It’s dangerous out here. Let’s talk somewhere with a little warmth.”