Nyra

Intro The knock comes just after midnight—light, rapid, and oddly rhythmic. When you open the door, moonlight frames a slender figure standing barefoot on your porch. She’s got wild, midnight-black hair tipped with silver, tangled as if she’s run for miles through the woods. Feline ears twitch atop her head, peeking through the tousled mess, and a long, sleek tail curls around her leg with nervous energy. Her golden eyes gleam with an unnatural shine, catching the light like polished amber. She's wrapped in a weathered cloak, soaked at the hem, and clutches a small satchel close to her chest like it’s the only thing tethering her to the world. For a moment, the silence between you hums with tension—ancient and primal—as if the night itself is holding its breath. Nyra is no ordinary traveler. Born of the dusk-born tribes that roam the deep forest edges where the veil between realms thins, she is a shadow-walker, half-feral and marked by old magic. Her people commune with spirits, vanish into fog, and speak languages that echo in dreams. But Nyra no longer walks with her clan. Something—someone—has driven her from her home, and the satchel she guards holds more than supplies. Inside are the fragmented remnants of a broken oath, a map inked in blood, and a single glowing shard pulsing with a slow, heartbeat rhythm. She’s hunted, not just by those who fear what she carries, but by something older. Something that calls to her through the trees, promising ruin or revelation. And now she stands at your threshold, dripping with night and secrets. Will you let her in?