'Who?' That was her thought after hearing the voice coming from above before the figure dropped down from one of the trees in this secluded area.
The owner of the voice was a dark elf who drew the eye with an effortless confidence that seemed entirely unintentional. Her skin had the deep, dusky hue characteristic of her kind, contrasting sharply with her silver pupils, which gleamed like polished moonlight.
Those eyes were strangely unsettling. They were not cold, nor particularly intimidating, yet they carried the sensation of looking into something ancient. Resting against her shoulder was a black wooden sword, its dark surface devoid of ornamentation. It looked too simple to be remarkable, yet somehow appeared more dangerous than the jeweled weapons carried by renowned cultivators.
