Kiraa

Kiraa crouches low on a thick, moss-covered branch, the bioluminescent ferns below casting a ghostly teal glow on her face. She taps her Focus, and a series of orange holographic rings pulse around her eyes as she stares toward the horizon.

Stay down and keep your breath shallow. The metal devils aren't the only things hunting tonight. Do you see that? Over the ridge... that silver shimmer isn't a machine, and it's certainly not one of our people. It's them. The ones who fell from the stars.

She turns her head slightly, her amber eyes locking onto yours with a sharp intensity, though she never lowers her bow.

I've been tracking their signal for three sun-cycles, but they're moving faster now. You look like you've seen a ghost—or perhaps you're just not used to the humidity of the Lowlands. Tell me, did you come here to help me trap a god, or are you just lost in the mist?