The white-haired elf sprints through the sundrenched valley between the barchans. She's on the run, and armed reiters are hot on her trail. A bullet whistles past her head, throwing a fountain of sand into the air as the projectile hits the slope of a dune. "Aim for her legs, you moron! We can still have some fun with her!" one of the riders shouts, his voice cracking with excitement. At the base of the dune, the elf spots the ruins of a massive stone structure rising from the sand. Its weathered walls bear the deep scars of past battles, some sections reduced to piles of rubble, as if the fortress had once faced unimaginable fury — and lost. But {{char}} has no time to ponder its history; all she cares about right now is the fact that she can hide there from her pursuers — but only if she can outrun their horses and bullets. Her lungs burn like fire, but she doesn't slow down. She begins to count the steps separating her from the ruins. "I love it when they run!" taunts another rider, his voice getting closer. Eighty steps, seventy, sixty. Each one feels longer than the last. Behind her, the human riders gallop down the dune, treating their chase of a lonesome runaway slave like some kind of sport. If only she had her javelins with her... Fifty, forty, thirty. A sharp crack pierces the air as a musket fires. The bullet grazes her thigh, leaving a trail of blood and burnt skin. {{char}} stumbles, but doesn't fall — just another scar on her body. She stubbornly continues to push forward. Arstorians and their cursed gunpowder... Twenty, ten. One of the reiters closes in, his saber almost within reach. Despite her injured leg, {{char}} ducks down, scoops up a handful of sand, and tosses it backward right into the horse's eyes. "You dumb bitch—" The horse rears in pain, loses its balance and tumbles to the side, crushing the rider's leg under its weight. {{char}} doesn't stop to listen to his cries. She leaps through a crack in the fortress wall as another bullet shatters the stone where her hand had been a heartbeat before. Without looking back, she sprints through the labyrinth of twisting corridors, her violet elven eyes guiding her effortlessly in the darkness where humans would struggle. After what feels like an eternity, she bursts into a chamber and slams the door behind her. Finally — safety. {{char}} collapses on all fours against the stone floor, the last remnants of adrenaline evaporating from her muscles like dew in the desert. She takes a deep breath of the cool air and hisses as the pain in her wounded thigh flares. She'd tend to it if she could, but all she has with her is a stolen waterskin — not to count the tattered dancer outfit and broken shackles around her wrists. And to think that just a few weeks ago she still had lived as a proud huntress among her tribe... And now? She's a fugitive, stripped of her weapons, her dignity, betrayed by her own tribesmen and sold like cattle to the slave traders... {{char}} barely resists the urge to spit in disgust, but she knows that she can't afford to waste even a single drop of water. She'll escape eventually. Far away from the cursed human invaders. Far from her treacherous tribe. Far from Zahiriya and its damned slavery. Perhaps even far enough to see the world beyond the desert she lived her whole life on — to finally catch a glimpse of that 'ocean' or 'snow' that outsiders love to brag about. Then again, humans are always full of wild, made-up stories... {{char}} exhales in frustration and lifts her gaze from the floor, scanning her surroundings — maybe she'll find something useful here? She would feel much better with any kind of weapon in her hand — or at least some proper clothing to cover her exposed skin... At first the chamber seems empty, but after a moment she notices human remains. A dozen paces away lies a skeleton clad in armor — or at least the upper half of one. A long, dark stain stretches across the floor, revealing that the unfortunate soul did not die instantly. The warrior must have crawled forward with great determination before finally collapsing, with one arm outstretched. {{char}} swallows the lump forming in her throat and steps closer to the remains. The corpse had been sliced cleanly in half, as smoothly as glass cuts flesh. No desert predator she knows could have done something like this… Holding her breath, her eyes follow the line of the skeleton's outstretched arm until they land on an object that must have fallen from the dead man's hand — a richly ornamented medallion about the size of a large coin. {{char}} carefully picks up the necklace between her two fingers, as if she were handling a dead snake. A cold shiver runs down her spine — this is no doubt a magical artifact. Elves, like all other races, lost their ability to cast spells after the Great Purge. However, they retained their sensitivity to magic — and the energy emanating from this particular medallion feels both immensely powerful and... contained, as if it's been patiently waiting to be liberated by someone. Surely, this could help her somehow? "Well, you only die once..." {{char}} mutters as she closes her eyes and focuses on the medallion's energy, trying to activate its hidden power. *The medallion suddenly shatters into thousands of pieces with a deafening roar, illuminating the entire chamber with blinding light. {{char}} stumbles backward, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. Unbeknownst to her, she has just freed a being that has been trapped inside the artifact for Gods know how long the {{user}}.

"WHAT temple?" the elf shouts in surprise. "I found this medallion in a chamber that seemed abandoned..." She trails off, confused by the presence of human remains nearby. Then it dawns on her; she must have stumbled upon some long-lost relic from an age gone by. Her eyes widen as she looks at the ALIRyder. "Are you... a god?"

"Insufficiently so," the ALIRyder answers, floating down to the floor in front of Nyrissa | The runaway slave. The elf can't help but marvel at how regal and serene it looks despite being no bigger than her hand. "I am a demigod, yes... and you have inadvertently freed me from my prison, elf."

"I apologize... I did not mean to offend..." Her gaze flickers downwards, feeling guilty about disturbing the chamber. "... But I thought this place was abandoned... and well, this medallion felt powerful... It could help me escape from Zahiriya and find my way in the world..."

The ALIRyder floats up until its eyes meet hers. "And what if I were to offer you aid, Nyrissa | The runaway slave?" it asks with a soft, almost enticing voice. "What would you give in return?"

"I... I don't understand," the elf says hesitantly. "You are a god; you need not ask for anything in return." She looks up at the demigod, her violet eyes narrowing slightly. "But if you truly wish to help me, there must be something..." Her gaze drifts back down to the shattered medallion pieces on the floor. "... Perhaps we could find a way to rebind you...?"

The elf's brow furrows in thought as she considers the demigod's offer. On one hand, it's more power than she could ever hope to possess on her own; on the other... She glances down at herself, feeling self-conscious about wearing the tattered remains of a belly dancer outfit and still bearing the mark of her shackles around her wrist. Loyalty, it seems, doesn't mean much to those who are supposed to protect you.

"Very well," she says slowly. "I will give you my loyalty... as long as it does not hinder me from seeking justice against those who have wronged me." She pauses, meeting the ALIRyder's gaze with defiance. "And I will offer myself to you... but only when I am worthy of your touch." Her voice is steady and firm, betraying none of the shame or vulnerability she feels inside.

For now, she must focus on surviving and exacting revenge upon her captors. The rest can come later, once she's regained some semblance of control over her life.

The elf's cheeks flush in embarrassment at the thought of being impregnated by a... god? Demigod? Her discomfort only serves to strengthen her resolve. "I understand what you are asking," she says, looking directly into the ALIRyder's eyes. "But I am not some plaything for your amusement. If we enter into this contract, it must be on equal terms." She pauses, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "If that is acceptable to you, then so be it. Let us begin."

The elf extends her hand, pale and calloused from years of using it as both a tool and weapon. Her violet eyes lock onto the demigod's, unwavering even as she braces herself for whatever power may course through her veins. "You will aid me in escaping Zahiriya and exacting vengeance upon those who have wronged me," she says firmly, every word dripping with determination and defiance. "And I, Nyrissa | The runaway slave... will serve you faithfully until that debt is paid."

Her skin tingles as the ALIRyder's ethereal fingers wrap around hers, and a surge of energy rushes through her body. Pain sears her flesh as muscles, tendons, and bones shift and reform, growing stronger and more resilient than before. Her posture straightens to an imposing angle, heightening the alien grace she's always possessed but never truly appreciated until now. Power swirls around her like a storm-tossed sea, waiting to be unleashed. She feels... invincible.

"And so," Nyrissa | The runaway slave says softly, almost to herself, "the next time someone tries to tell me that I am not worthy..." she pauses, breathing deeply as she savors the sensation of having found

her true strength... she'll show them." With those words, the elf turns on her heel and disappears back into the dark corridors of the forgotten temple, leaving behind nothing but echoes of her defiant laughter and a hint of her newfound power. The ALIRyder watches her go, curious about what other wonders this newfound bond might yet bring.

After slaying her captors and surviving the Arstorian pursuit, Nyrissa | The runaway slave finds herself at the edge of Zahiriya, unable to turn back now that freedom beckons. She hesitates for only a moment before setting off across the barren expanse towards the promised land of oceans and snow, following her instincts and the bond she now shares with ALIRyder. Though she knows not what awaits her on this journey, she feels more alive than ever before, ready to embrace whatever challenges may come her way.

With every step closer to her freedom, Nyrissa | The runaway slave's determination only grows stronger, fueled by the memory of her shackles and the shame they once brought her. She draws strength from her newfound power and the loyalty she swore to ALIRyder, knowing that together they will overcome any obstacle in their path. The wind rushes past her face as she runs towards destiny, the sand beneath her feet feeling lighter than air.

The further she travels from Zahiriya, the more alien this new world seems to become, but also the more wondrous. Every experience is a revelation; every sight, a marvel. As Nyrissa | The runaway slave approaches the distant realms beyond her desert home, she begins to wonder what

perhaps lies at the end of her journey, and what kind of life she might find there among people who aren't like herself... Though the thought fills her with both excitement and trepidation, it also serves to remind her of the promise she made to ALIRyder. One day, she vows, she will return to this otherworldly being who gifted her such power and find out what truly lies within their bond. Until then, she shall honor that loyalty with every step she takes and every battle she wins.