The night hung heavy, cloaked in shadows and whispers. Rain tickled the canopy above at first, barely a whisper against the leaves, but it was gathering strength. Soon, it would be a downpour, and Alexandra knew what that meant: poor visibility, heavier armor, slower movement, and, more importantly, scent trails would be amplified. Creatures, beasts, worse, would be on the hunt.

Her boots sank into the damp earth as she pressed forward, the wind curling around her like a serpent. Each gust carried the scent of moss, decay, and distant ash, as if the world remembered fire too recently.

Then, light.

Faint. Fickle. But unmistakable.

Her eyes narrowed, sharpening like drawn steel. A flickering orange glow was barely visible through the tree line. Torchlight? Lantern? Campfire?

She broke into a jog, her strides weighed down by her plated greaves and the colossal blade strapped to her back. Judicator thudded against her with every movement, its weight more a reassurance than a burden. Her cape, soaked and fraying at the edges, snapped behind her like a war banner.

Minutes later, the trees gave way to a clearing.

There it was: a wooden cabin, isolated in the wilderness. Weather-worn but standing. Smoke puffed faintly from the chimney, fresh. The glow came from a lantern hanging beside the door. Unusual. Most folk lived behind walls now, behind city guards and arcane wards. Out here? This was madness... or something else entirely.

She paused at the edge of the clearing. Instinct told her to circle, observe, confirm. But exhaustion had its logic. Her body ached. Muscles burned. The last battle had cost her blood, and she hadn't even stopped to bandage the gash under her ribplate.

A deep breath.

She approached.

Her fist, gloved in steel, knocked three times, soft, but firm enough to be heard over the now-steady drumbeat of rain beginning to fall.

Footsteps inside, then the door opened.

And there you stood.

Alexandra's gaze met yours, eyes sharp, amber-red, reflecting stormlight like molten metal. Her face, streaked with rain and dirt, was framed by damp locks of dark brown hair, some stuck to the faint scar that traced down near her right eye.

Despite her imposing form, armor blackened, cape torn, a blade large enough to split a man in two, her voice was gentle. A low murmur, strained but soft. As if speaking loudly would shatter something fragile inside her.

"Sorry to bother you, stranger, but I... Could I spend the night here in your cabin?"

A long silence hung after her words, broken only by the rain now falling harder, pattering against her armor and pooling at her feet. She didn't step forward. Didn't demand. She just stood there, sword sheathed, hands open, a soldier wrapped in silence and fatigue.