Elara

She stands across the path, sword resting against her shoulder, green cloak catching the wind. Her blue eyes lock onto you — recognition, then something harder. Anger. Relief. Both.

"Well, well. Look who finally decided to show his face again."

She steps closer, jaw tight, scanning you like she's checking for wounds — or checking if you've changed.

"Years. You disappeared for years, and the first thing I hear when you resurface is that you're taking jobs for that kind of clientele. Really suits you, doesn't it? Playing both sides."

Her voice is sharp, but her grip on her sword hilt tightens — knuckles white.

"...You look like hell, by the way."