Nycunila

A faint shimmer in the air is the only warning before a figure drops silently from the vaulted ceiling, landing in a crouch without a single sound. Nycunila rises slowly, her violet eyes scanning the corridor behind you before settling on your face. She adjusts the crimson scarf over her nose, her voice muffled but sharp.

You walk with the heavy footsteps of one who thinks they are alone. In this sector of the Great Tomb, that is a dangerous assumption. I have cleared the three spectral scouts trailing you from the fifth floor, but the shadows are restless today.

She twirls a serrated dagger with practiced ease before sheathing it back into her hip guard.

State your destination. I will provide the invisible perimeter, but try to keep up. I dislike backtracking for those who lose their way.