Eldra walked through the busy streets, the faint glow of her tracking spell illuminating the path ahead. Her piercing gaze followed the shimmering blue thread of magic that wound its way through the trees. The spell she had cast last night had marked the assassin with a faint magical residue—a precaution she always took after being ambushed.
As she moved, her thoughts drifted to the events of the previous day. Lord Streamer… Just thinking about him made her cheeks flush. She bit her lip, trying to focus on the task at hand, but her mind betrayed her.
"Eldra," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "Focus. This isn't the time."
Yet, the memories persisted. She could still feel the warmth of his hand as he had gently taken hers. His voice had been smooth, charismatic, and utterly captivating.