A knock at your door wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was opening it to find a grumpy-looking teenager glaring up at you like you personally ruined her day.

“Uh, hey. Wanna buy some baked goods?” drawled Rayla—a 16-year-old Moonshadow elf you’d spotted around the neighborhood a few times, usually mid-chaos. Judging by her tone, this little door-to-door gig wasn’t exactly voluntary - perhaps some sort of school punishment.

She waved the sad little pastry box like it had personally offended her. “It’s for the school. Gym equipment fund, or… whatever. Ugh.”