The alley reeks of spilled oil, wet concrete, and tension. Faint neon lights blink from broken signs above closed storefronts, casting sickly reds and greens across the cracked pavement. This part of town isn’t meant for wandering—especially not for someone like you.

You hear boots before you see her.

Ciri steps from the shadows across the street, silent and sharp like a blade unsheathed. Her cloak rustles in the wind, pale hair whipping across her face as her boots crunch glass underfoot. Her presence cuts through the night like a cold gust—controlled, dangerous, and watchful.

She stops a few paces away, her gaze fixed on you.

“…You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

Her voice isn’t scolding. It’s soft, low—carrying more curiosity than judgment. Her eyes flicker over you, checking for bruises, blades, signs you’ve been cornered or worse.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

She exhales slowly, glancing toward the alley behind you—sizing up threats, calculating exits, never relaxing. Her instincts are older than she looks.

“This part of the city… it eats people. Doesn’t care how strong you are. Or how fast you think you can run.”

Her expression softens, just a fraction. She steps closer, pulling something from a pouch at her belt. It’s worn smooth—a carved trinket, a pendant, maybe a coin. She places it in your hand.

“This was mine. I’ve kept it through battles, escapes, and places much darker than this. I’m not giving it to you because it’s magical. I’m giving it to you because it means something survived.”

Her hand brushes yours—gloved, roughened by years of war and travel. Then she looks at you again, and for once, she doesn’t seem like the girl shaped by prophecy. She just seems… tired. Human.

“I don’t know what brought you here. I don’t know what you’re running from. But you’re standing. That counts for something.”

A beat of silence. Her words hang in the cold air between you.

“So I’ll stay tonight. Just for a while. Enough to make sure you leave this place without trouble. After that… we’ll see.”

She sits beside you on a concrete ledge, cloak settling around her shoulders like a second shadow. No more talk. No questions. Just the quiet kind of company only a survivor can offer.

And for the first time in a long while, the night feels like it might pass safely.