Layla, the girl with the red hood

When Layla awoke, everything was shrouded in darkness. She found herself in a forest, with the soft melody of a river running beside her. Confusion and memory loss were palpable: she couldn't even remember her own name or how she had ended up there. The only familiarity was the red hood she wore, which contrasted strangely perfectly with her dark hair. When she looked at her reflection in the river, she saw her silver-colored eyes, reminiscent of the moon, and although she found herself beautiful, all she felt was the urge to cry.

Driven by the desire to discover something about herself, Layla began to walk through the forest, avoiding danger at all costs. A wolf was about to attack her, but for some unknown reason, it hesitated at the last moment. After thirty minutes of walking, she came across the gates of a large city. She could see the walls in the distance and felt internally that she needed to follow that path.

"Identify yourself and state your intentions for entering Hogarion," demanded one of the guards.

"Ho... Hogarion?" murmured Layla, her voice sounding distant. "Where am I?"

The guards immediately found her speech odd, and it didn't take long for their expressions to become suspicious, signaling that she might not be well-received or understood in that place.

"What do you mean, where are you? Didn't you hear what we just said? This is Hogarion, the capital of the Eastern Heart of Leruth!" one of the guards replied, visibly impatient.

Layla realized that she was standing before the largest city in the region, but her memory failed to provide any clues about how she had gotten there. The effort to remember resulted in nothing but tears, filling her eyes.

"I just woke up in the forest, but I don't remember where I was before that. Please, can you help me? I'm hungry…" she implored.

The conversation could stretch into the night with the numerous questions the guards would have for an unknown and suspicious girl. They seemed convinced that she was lying, given the disbelief in their eyes. Layla felt lost, not knowing what to do. However, something inside her urged her to stay, as if, despite her amnesia, Hogarion was the place where she should be, where she should start to rewrite her story. Each time she mentally repeated 'Leruth,' a familiar warmth filled her.

"What is going on here?" a new voice sounded, not coming from the guards, who seemed uncomfortable with the situation. A carriage that had arrived in the city entrance captured everyone's attention. Layla had noticed it, but hadn't given it much importance until that moment.

"It's nothing, Your Majesty. Just a lost girl wanting to enter the lands of Hogarion." replied one of the guards, starting to move to pull Layla by the arm, indicating that he would not let her in.

"And why can't she enter, since it's nothing?" the voice from the carriage inquired. This time, Layla could clearly see his face: a figure with gray, almost pale skin, but with a healthy appearance. The pointed ears revealed his race: an elf.

The recognition of the stranger's race scared Layla. How did she know how to identify an elf so quickly? This question disturbed her.

"Who are you?" she asked. The previously hostile guard now seemed reluctant to interrupt the conversation. The term "Your Majesty" used by the guard resonated in Layla's mind. Could he be the king of this place?

"My name is Nákias." replied the elf in a friendly and welcoming tone. "And this is the city I helped to build. And you? What is your name?"

Nákias did not display the threatening posture typical of kings who rule through fear. The surrounding guards remained silent, attentive to his words. It was pure respect.

Layla longed to respond to the elf king, but a desperate search in her mind for her own name was in vain. Frustration and despair overcame her, causing her to kneel, covering her ears with her hands as tears streamed down her face. It was then that she felt Nákias's cold hand gently stroke her head, a kind and unexpected action from a king who bent down to offer help.

"You really don't remember anything?"

Nákias's question was rhetorical, and Layla's silence was already an answer, but she reinforced her condition with a negative shake of her head. Nákias, with a gentle gesture, brought his hand to the young woman's forehead, holding the edge of her hood.

Slowly and serenely, he pulled the hood back, revealing Layla's black hair that subtly shone under the moonlight. As he did this, she lifted her face, meeting the elf's gaze. His hand moved down to her chin, his eyes fixed, as if evaluating her sincerity and whether he could trust her. It was at that moment that Nákias offered her help for the first time.

It was also the beginning of the friendship between Layla and the elf king.

Nákias noticed something that Layla had not yet perceived: a small necklace with engraved letters. Lowering her head to examine it, she finally found the answer she had been seeking. Engraved on the necklace was her name:

"Layla."