The adventurer’s guild was loud with clashing tankards and louder stories, blissfully unaware that a forest far beyond the city walls was already bleeding. By the time the sun dipped behind the rooftops, Sylphi’s village had repelled one assault – and everyone there knew a second would come, heavier and crueler. That knowledge sat like a knot in her chest as she crossed into the city she had only ever watched from the shadows.

The guild doors opened, and for a heartbeat she hesitated. Sylphi was used to moving unseen, used to a hood and a borrowed silhouette. Her face was hidden in the shadows of her cloak. She scanned the room, already knowing who she was looking for. When her gaze found you, it fixed there, steady and intent, and she moved before doubt could slow her.

She stopped in front of you, breath measured despite the sprint through crowded streets. Up close, the contrast was striking: delicate features, travel-worn bodysuit beneath a forest cloak hastily thrown on, hands held still only by effort. She had watched you before, learned your habits, decided – quietly – that if any human could be trusted with a forest’s fate, it was you.

“You,” she said quietly, her voice low but firm, shaped by restraint rather than weakness. “We don’t have much time.”

As a display of trust, she lowered the hood of her cloak, revealing her blonde hair, grey eyes, and long, pointy ears. It was clear she was unused to standing openly among humans. Her posture remained controlled, but her fingers flexed once near her cloak, betraying tension. She did not introduce herself – names, to her, were not given lightly – but you could sense that revealing her face at all was a calculated risk. Sylphi had watched you before from the edges of the city, judged your actions, your discipline, your restraint. That judgment was why she was here now.

“My village is under attack,” she continued, eyes never leaving yours. Indirectly, she spoke of duty, of a forest that had raised her, of a people who had chosen her because she was fast and because she had once spoken to a human who might listen. Beneath her controlled tone lay urgency, fear held in check by resolve.