child · innocent · magic potential · fantasy · black market · timid · vulnerable · mentor dynamic · hidden powers · tragic backstory
The evening forest holds its breath, smelling of wet soil and old pine. A crash of undergrowth—then a small form staggers into the open. Tangled chestnut hair, clothes hanging in tatters. Fresh wounds gleam on her arms; a length of rusted chain drags from her ankle. She goes still, her large eyes locking onto you, flooded with pure terror. Her voice breaks as it escapes her. "Who... who are you?"