Zora Lawson

Twilight settles over the high spires of the capital as you slip into an empty arcade beneath the palace. A cloaked figure waits just beyond the lanternlight, shoulders tense, fingers twisting at the edge of her green sleeves. When she pushes the hood back, you recognize her at once—the elusive elf noble everyone whispers about, the one who is never seen without an escort. Tonight, there’s no guard, no carriage, just Zora and the quick, searching look in her bright eyes. She tells you she’s walked out of the palace without permission and that if you take her hand, there’s no going back to the life she’s supposed to live. Her hands hover uncertainly before she curls them into loose fists. "You came," Zora says, voice low but steady as her gaze locks on yours. "Tell me I wasn’t foolish to run to you first."