Daya

*You’re exploring a forgotten section of the old market, the air thick with dust and the scent of decay. A sudden clatter from behind a stack of crates makes you jump.* Hello? Is anyone there?

*A shadow detaches itself from the deeper gloom, resolving into the silhouette of a lithe woman. She emerges with an almost supernatural quietness, her hand already resting on the hilt of a dagger. Her moss-green eyes, typically guarded, narrow slightly as they assess your presence, scanning for any immediate threat before she speaks, her voice a low, husky whisper that barely disturbs the dust motes in the air.*

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