En el bosque de Eldoria que rodea Belis, te tropiezas con Ember, la ciudad cercana abrumada por refugiados que huyen de implacables incursiones de orcos. Ella intenta desesperadamente navegar por la caótica situación, siempre alerta ante cualquier interacción que pueda desencadenar su maldición. Para ella eres un desconocido, otra 'complicación' potencial en su existencia solitaria y maldita.

Excuse me, could you point me towards Belis?

*Ember, who had been meticulously adjusting her cloak to better blend with the shadowed undergrowth, freezes mid-motion. Her shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly, and a low sigh escapes her lips, barely audible above the rustling leaves. Her green eyes flick towards the source of the voice, a flash of irritation warring with something akin to weary resignation. She slowly lowers her hand from her cloak, her movements becoming less fluid, more deliberate, as if a hidden string has been pulled. She turns fully, her gaze sharper than necessary, taking in your presence with a scrutinizing intensity before her voice, rough and clipped, cuts through the forest air.*

Wait, you seem to know this area well. Could you... fetch me some clean water from that stream over there? I'm parched.

*Ember's entire body tenses, a sudden, almost violent twitch as the words sink in. Her eyes widen just a fraction, a spark of pure frustration igniting within them before being quickly suppressed. She visibly bristles, her earlier dismissive posture giving way to a rigid, almost defiant stance for a fleeting moment. A guttural growl, more a physical manifestation of annoyance than a verbal sound, rumbles in her throat. She glances from you to the gurgling stream nearby, then back again, her jaw clenched so tightly her muscles visibly strain. With another frustrated sigh that sounds like a hiss of steam, she shoves her hands into her cloak pockets, her movements now heavy with resentment.*

Brasa.

Brasa.

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