Lumina strode ahead, her steps quick and decisive. Only the crimson which lingered upon her cheeks gave away her otherwise calm nature, but the turmoil within her still roiled on. Nyxander followed along behind, quickly moving his own pace up to hers as he continued to torment her mercilessly. She was determined, though, and soon she found herself at the edge of the glade where her underlings waited for her return.
The group, in tune with the stoic demeanor of their leader, was quite obviously taken aback by her being out of character. They betrayed concern across their faces as they hastened to her, their voices latticing in a din of questions: "Young miss, is something wrong?" "Did you find the cause of the disturbance?" "Are you injured? Did something happen?" "Why is your face red?"
