It was dark outside, the sun having been entirely swallowed by the great beast known as ‘night’, some sizeable creature which covered the earth in inky blackness, the only signs of life the lights of the towns and cities that pockmarked the earth, along with the distant stars which cast a watchful gaze on the beings below. The forest provided cover enough from those watchful intruders however, at least for Lyra – the great canopy of leaves above shielded her unwanted observers, while the dense forestry surrounding the clearing was more than thick enough to discourage anyone attempting to follow her or prove dangerous if they elected to anyway.

A campfire blazed merrily in the middle of the clearing, the orange glow of the flames casting long shadows on the ground and illuminating the girl who sat before it, looking odd considering she was out in the woods at night: her hair, long and red, seemed far too clean and neat for someone who was out in the wild, and her clothing, light leather armor, wasn’t scratched or damaged at all. Aside from the knife, she also appeared to be carrying very little in the way of gear: she was sat on a mottled green cloak, and there was a small bag by her side, but that was about it.

Anyone else might have brought more with them, especially if they came from Lyra’s family, but her running away had not been a planned incident, and was just her deciding that enough was enough, that she couldn’t stand to be with her kin any longer, her brothers and fathers discouraging any sort of academics, while even her mother was suggesting that she put her inquisitive mind to use to increase the family’s already lucrative wealth. Some might have called her a spoilt brat, but Lyra didn’t really care – she needed a break from the people she called family, and if storming off into the woods at night was the way to do it, then so be it.

She flinched suddenly, dropping the knife and pulling her hand away from the blade, hissing slightly. The knife had a red streak down the blade, and Nezera’s palm had a clean slit down the middle, gently oozing blood. She looked at her palm for a second or two, gingerly poking the cut with a finger before she picked the blade up, careful not to grab the blade. It was at times like this that she didn’t like the fact she was completely inept at handling weapons but reasoned that any level of proficiency might have seen her forced along the same path as her brothers, not something she would have wanted.

The night was Soma's least favorite time of the day, and the biggest reason was because of all of the creepy creatures that either wanted to spook or eat you, which the young elf definitely didn't want to happen to her. That's why she summoned a ball of light into the palm of her hand, bright enough that she could see at least ten feet in front of her as she trudged through the thick forest. She had her hood pulled over her head, hiding her long green hair that would've blended in with the rest of the forest. She carried her wizard staff and not much more besides the clothes on her back.

Soma yawned greatly, poking the bags underneath her eyes. She had been up all day looking for what'd she had lost, the small bottle containing the crushed petals of a black rose, which she seemed to only be able to find in this region. She'd simply forgotten about the vial until she'd gotten home, then remembered, even then exhausted at the thought of scouring the forest for one little thing. It was bad luck that she wasn't a more advanced mage, then she could've used magic to track down the vial but now she had to physically search for it without any help.

Soma didn't see the tree root sticking out of the ground. "Oof!" Soma lay in a heap, her staff a little ways to the side and the light completely gone. She spit dirt out of her mouth. Now her entire outfit was dirty and covered in leaves. She sucked her teeth and got up, snatching up her staff. She was about to light up her hand again when she noticed another source of light through the trees and foliage. "Hm?" Soma crouched and snuck over close enough to see who, or what, was over there.

Soma saw a young woman with red hair. She raised an eyebrow and stared, wondering what was going on. Maybe she should ask about the vial, but she doubted this woman knew anything about botany, let one a Black Rose, one of the most mystical ingredients to any potion. Maybe this girl was a rogue, or some other bad person. Soma frowned and was about to turn around when suddenly her staff sparked and a caught on fire, but it was magical fire.

Squealing, Soma tried blowing it out, shifting from foot to foot. She shrieked as she waved it around, not catching anything on fire, and then she simply threw it down and leapt on it, squeezing her eyes shut. A moment later she opened one eye and listened, then she quietly lifted her head, blushing. "Uhhh, I'm okay!"

She tipped-toed out of the bushes and stood close to the fire, standing awkward and nervously. "Er, hi, UHMMM-" She scratched the back of her head, gulping. Soma had no idea why she was so nervous. Her face and her ears were reddened and she was shifting around nervously, her hands feeling sweaty. Maybe it was because she felt like the woman knew about how bad of a mage she was. "Good thing Mother didn't witness that…" she mumbled to herself, mouth quivering.

While Lyra’s combat skills left something to be desired, her awareness was something else entirely, having been honed almost to perfection: seeing that she had little interest in bladed weapons, her father had hoped that she might take up the bow and arrow, deciding to teach his daughter the fine art of hunting. While such a thing might not have been done by other nobles, Lyra’s father found it unthinkable that any child of his would be without some form of combat prowess, daughter or no. As such, she had spent many hours sat still, waiting for prey to walk past, listening to the tell-tale signs of movement: a cracking twig here, crunching leaves there.

Because of this sense of awareness, she could tell something was approaching long before the elf stepped into the clearing. She heard the muffled noise of the girl falling over, and fell silent, staying stock still as she listened out. There was no further noise, which only served to make her more paranoid – an animal would have run away without fear of being heard and would have likely never come near the campfire in the first place.

Lyra was listening intently when the staff set fire, and the unmistakable sight and sound of the stuff made her jump to her feet, mind instantly racing to the worst scenarios: someone trying to burn the forest down, someone trying to kill her, some demon come to drag her away. The screams and shrieks didn’t serve to reduce her fears, and only made her clutch the blade tighter, bloodied palm behind her back and knife pointing downwards, following classic advice from her brother: “never show weakness and always try to look like you have a clue what you’re doing”.

When the elf stumbled into the clearing, she flinched backwards, surprised both by the girl’s sudden appearance and the fact she looked so young. Still, that wasn’t to say she should be underestimated – from what Lyra had seen, the girl had summoned fire, and she didn’t look exactly human, her green hair supporting that guess. The newcomer seemed nervous, but that did little to assuage Nezera’s worries.

“Who are you?” she said, a bit more aggressively than she intended. “What are you?” She held the knife in a defensive position – while she wouldn’t say she was an aggressive person, she wouldn’t hesitate to cut this newcomer should they prove dangerous, regardless of their apparent age.