The courtyard of Hemsberg, though far from opulent, offered a stark contrast to the vibrant wilderness beyond its walls. Cracked stone walkways wove between patches of wilting grass, and the aging stone walls were draped in creeping vines that seemed to cling to life with desperation. The muted browns and grays of the courtyard felt like a soothing balm to Nyxeria, who had grown weary of the overbearing brightness and vitality of the forest. Here, in this place of fading glory, she could almost sense the comforting presence of her father's shadowed domain.

The lush, vibrant greens of the forest had clashed with the dreary, shadowed realm she called home. It wasn't just a preference; it was a longing for the familiar gray curtain that constantly blanketed her father's domain. Her father, known as the Raven Lord, held titles like Keeper of Nightmares, Lord of Fear, Master of Shadows, and the Conjuror of Dark Trickery.

Nyxeria had spent countless years watching him weave his manipulations into the world, earning him strained relations with other deities. She pondered how she would convince mortals to put their faith in entities that might not be perceived as "good."

As they approached the weathered keep with the two men called Vern and Garen, Nyxeria allowed them to take the lead on getting her an audience with the local lord. Her immediate goal was to ascertain her location.

"Vern? Garen?" The gate guard seemed surprised to see the duo arrive with a peculiar yet captivating girl.

"Hey, is Lord Garet here? We found an extremely important guest," Vern emphasized the word 'extremely' as his eyes and head tilted towards the seemingly disinterested Nyxeria.

The guard understood the situation, having seen such scenes before. Beautiful women were not uncommon gifts to Lord Garet. The lady of the household might disapprove, but as long as no heirs were born from such liaisons, it was tolerated. At least, that was the unspoken agreement. The guard instructed them to wait in the main courtyard while he informed Lord Garet of their arrival and "guest."

Nyxeria followed the guard into the courtyard. Her inky black dress flowed naturally around her, shapely but not too revealing. Despite the worn-down appearance of the surroundings, the courtyard held a unique charm, much like certain areas in the heavenly realms she had explored.

"Milady..." Vern approached her, standing near his brother, whispering amongst themselves before addressing her.

Nyxeria gave him a sidelong glance before nodding. "Speak."

"Listen carefully, milady," Vern said, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper as they neared the gates. "When we get in front of Lord Garet, you need to back up our story. The man is sharp, and if he thinks we're lying or that you're not who we claim, things will turn sour real quick. And let me tell you, you don't want to be on the wrong side of him." He glanced nervously at the gate ahead, his hands fidgeting with his tunic. "So, please, follow our lead, for all our sakes."

Nyxeria frowned, considering his words. She saw no reason to disagree. "If what you say is truthful."

Vern rubbed his hands together nervously. "Naturally! We would never dream of misleading you!"

The gate to the main hall soon opened, and the guard motioned for them to enter. "You know the courtesies; don't cause issues, Vern or your head will be on a pike. Understood?"

"Absolutely understood!" Vern's voice cracked.

The main hall was plain, yet functional, warmed by the flickering light of four large hearths that lined the walls, casting long shadows across the worn stone floor. At the far end of the hall, Lord Garet sat upon a modest wooden throne, his figure draped in a fur-lined cloak that had clearly seen better days. His graying black hair framed a face hardened by years of conflict, and his eyes, sharp and calculating. Next to him was a woman, Lady Garet, who exuded sophistication despite her graying hair. As Nyxeria entered, their eyes lit up with avarice.

"Lord Garet! This humble subject greets you," Vern and Garen bowed in unison.

Nyxeria stood motionless, observing the two men on the slightly elevated platform.

Vern's eyes widened. "Apologies, Lord. She isn't aware of our customs!"

Lord Garet grunted. "My guard said you came with a gift." His eyes shifted to Nyxeria with a hint of desire. "She certainly doesn't look like a local subject or anyone from the surrounding regions. I've never seen eyes shaped like that or of that color before. It seems she is from far away."

"Why does it matter where she's from?" Lady Garet asked, her tone laced with exasperation. "It's irrelevant."

Lord Garet tapped his finger on the armrest. "How much do you want?"

Vern's smile disappeared slightly. "My Lord, there seems to be a misunderstanding..."

Nyxeria sensed the situation was tense, annoyed by the audacity of suggesting a purchase. She turned to Vern. "Were you intending on selling me to this man?"

Vern audibly gulped. "No, no, no. I wouldn't think of doing such a thing."

Lord Garet pinched his brow. "You're wasting my time and misleading my guard. If you aren't here to sell the girl, what exactly are you here for? Speak up immediately."

Vern bowed. "I apologize, my lord. As you know, many people are scouring the forest for the source of what fell from the sky! My brother and I found a crater, and this young lady was in the center of it!"

Nyxeria felt the tension in the air, but she remained mostly unconcerned, even if annoyed. The prospect of being bought like a commodity was inconceivable. Father would be cackling with glee if he were watching this unfold, reveling in the mischief.

Lord Garet's eyes lit up. "If that is the case, does the young one wish to introduce herself and can verify the information?"

Lady Garet, previously hostile, now leaned forward with interest. "Yes, please. Can you verify their account and provide proof?"

Looking up at the two men, whose eyes shone with greed, she smiled. A straightforward approach was best in this case. Learning the nuances of customs and etiquette could come later.

"I'm the daughter of ravens and was sent here by my father, the Lord of Ravens, to bring people unto his name. Be glad that you are the first to meet me," Nyxeria walked over to Vern. "You ought to be more clear with your intentions, mortal."

Lord Garet's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and incredulity. He leaned back in his chair, a cynical smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. “The daughter of the Lord of Ravens, you say?” He chuckled, the sound rough and disbelieving, like gravel scraping across stone. “What next? Are you going to tell me you're the lost princess of some forgotten realm too?” He eyed her, his gaze narrowing as he scanned her with a more calculating intensity. “I’ve met many a crazed elf in my time, but I must admit, I’ve never heard of one claiming such lofty parentage.”

His lips curled into a faint sneer, a flicker of curiosity edging through his initial disdain. “I’m curious though—just how far gone are you? Are you truly as mad as you sound, or is this some kind of elaborate prank?” His eyes roved over her again, as though weighing her presence with an almost predatory interest.

Lady Garet, more reserved but no less skeptical, leaned forward slightly in her seat. Her brow furrowed, and she exchanged a glance with her husband. “Lord Garet, do you truly believe this... girl?” she asked, her voice laced with cool disdain, though not as brash as her husband’s. “She may be a fool, or she may be something else entirely, but I would advise caution. There’s a peculiar edge to her. However, claims of divine lineage should not be dismissed lightly.”

Her gaze remained fixed on Nyxeria, appraising her with a calculating look. “But no matter her origin, words alone mean little in this realm. You’d be wise to show some proof, or you risk wasting our time.”

Nyxeria's lips curled into a slight smile, though her eyes remained cold. "So, what you are saying, Lord Garet," she began, her voice steady and laced with dark amusement, "is that you require proof of my power, a demonstration of my birthright?" She took a step forward, her shadow seeming to elongate unnaturally beneath the dim light of the hall. "Very well. Let this be your lesson—there is no mistaking the bloodline of the Raven Lord. But know this, mortal. What you ask of me may be more than you can handle."

Lord Garet rose slowly from his throne, the furred cloak slipping from his broad shoulders to reveal a finely-crafted sword strapped to his side, its hilt gleaming in the firelight. The weight of his years showed in the stiffness of his movements, but the aura of experience and battle-hardened strength remained undeniable. "I may no longer be in my prime," he said, his voice gravelly but commanding, "but I've slain warriors and mages alike who thought they could challenge my rule. Your claim to divine lineage doesn't impress me, girl. Power is proven by steel and blood, not by words."

Lady Garet’s gaze never wavered, her features still as composed as ever. "Words and power can be deceiving, my lord," she murmured, "but actions speak louder than both."

Lord Garet’s voice broke the tension, cutting through the nervous air. He swung the sword several times in front of him, stretching out his limbs as though preparing for a long engagement. “Come, supposed daughter of the Lord of Ravens,” he taunted, his voice now edged with the thrill of a challenge. "Let’s see if you live up to your claims, or if you’ll crumble like all the others who have come before me."

Nyxeria’s smile only deepened, a cold, confident expression that radiated an undeniable power. She stood poised, her posture as still as a statue, and in the flicker of torchlight, her dark eyes glimmered with something far more ancient than any mortal could ever comprehend.