[fieldbox="Nyka, #D0A9F5"]
Azra asked Nyka to remain calm, and her reassuring smile helped. The angel's voice seemed to have a soothing effect on the young Sylph, and she gathered herself as best she could.
Nyka's hopes were raised further when a mysterious stranger, cloaked in shadow despite the bright sunlight, stepped out from the crowd to offer his assistance, but Azra's words to dismiss the man quickly dispelled them once more. The man had called Richtor his "friend" which surprised his daughter. "How does Father know such a man?" she wondered to herself as Azra continued to talk.
"I would hear more about this Khulamahn?" The angel posed it as a question but there was no room for the elementals to refuse. Richtor looked at his daughter who was once more on the verge of tears at the sound of the name.
"Perhaps you would allow me to take a moment to comfort my daughter?" he asked Azra, holding his free arm out to Nyka. Without waiting for the angel's approval, Nyka flew into her father's awaiting arms, knocking the guardswoman off balance with the force. Richtor closed his arm around Nyka and began to sing softly to his daughter, a lullaby her mother sang often at night, and for a brief moment the two stood there, arm in arm, as though they had not another care in the world.
Then Nyka heard it. A soft laugh cut through the noise of the busy marketplace until it turned into a roll of thunder. "Wait, not thunder…" Nyka thought to herself as the sound grew louder. "Father, what is – " she began.
"Fly! Fly for your lives!" shouted the stall owner, launching himself into the air. Confused, Nyka looked up from her father's embrace to the demon guard holding her father's arm tightly, then to Azra as if asking permission to follow the other angel in his flight.
[/fieldbox]