3

Despite Lunara's sudden assault, the guards were not entirely unprepared. They had long sensed her presence, their instincts honed by countless nights of vigilance, and the flickering light of the torch had frequently betrayed her shadow. With a practiced ease, they drew their swords, ready to face the perceived threat.

Lunara stood before them, armed only with a worn dagger that barely gleamed in the dim light, her shabby clothes offering no semblance of protection. The guards exchanged mocking glances, their confidence unwavering as they anticipated dispatching her with a single, effortless strike.

But Lunara had a trick up her sleeve. In a swift motion, as she leaped toward them, she scooped up a handful of dust from the ground and flung it into the air, aiming directly at their faces. The unexpected cloud of debris caught them off guard, momentarily blinding them.

Before they could even begin to clear their eyes, a frantic scream pierced the night air, echoing their shock and fear. The sound sent a thrill of exhilaration through Lunara, propelling her forward as she capitalized on their disarray, ready to turn the tide in her favor.