Vyllynn’s story begins inis the twilight of two worlds— — a liminal space between the elegance of elven courts and the grittydark safety of the Old Forest and the dark excitement of Voran's back alleys of human cities. Born of a secret union between an elven diplomat and a human rebelelf and human, she was never meant to belong to either realm. Rejected by both and forced to forge her own path, she discovered early on that survival depended on blending in—and disappearing. In her youth, Vyllynn learned that appearances could be as treacherous as the people who wore them. Abandoned by those who should have nurtured her, she sought refuge in the art of disguise, adopting countless faces to outwit those who would do her harm. Under the tutelage of a shadowy mentor, she mastered the delicate craft of poisons—a way to silence foes without ever soiling her own hands. Every lesson taught her that the perfect kill wasn’t one made with brute force, but one that left no trace behind. Now known only as Vyllynn, she’s earned the reputation of “The Fixer.” Clients approach her with problems too dangerous or too delicate for the open streets. With a cool precision, she accepts half the fee up front to cover unseen costs—investments in rare toxins, hidden passageways, and the whispers of intelligence—and the other half only once the job is done without a trace. Her contracts are as fluid as her identity: by the time anyone senses what has happened, she has long since vanished into the night. Despite the myriad faces she wears, one truth remains: only one soul knows the real name behind the legend—her half-sister Sa’anvi Tembara. More than a family tie, Sa’anvi is sometimes an accomplice in Vyllynn’s dark endeavors, a constant reminder of the bonds that still tether her to a past filled with both pain and possibility. While rumors swirl about her shifting features—tall and willowy to some, waifish to others, with hair and eyes as mutable as the moods of the night—the true magic of Vyllynn lies in her ability to be whatever the moment demands. Each subtle clue—a particular scent, the cut of a shoe, a whispered vocal cue—remains the only testament to her passing presence, a fleeting sign that the shadow has been there. In a world where no one can be trusted, Vyllynn thrives in the gray areas between legality and necessity. She is the problem solver who never commits fully, the phantom who leaves contracts as enigmas and puzzles for those left behind. In every whispered deal, every contract sealed in darkness, she reminds all that some problems aren’t meant to be solved in the light—but in the quiet, calculating embrace of the shadows.