Two figures emerged from the darkness, their faces obscured by hooded cloaks. They moved with a predatory grace, their eyes glinting with cold purpose. Elara recognized the insignia on their cloaks – the mark of the Obsidian Guild, a clandestine organization rumored to deal in forbidden knowledge and ancient artifacts.
"We've been watching you, girl," the taller of the two said, his voice raspy. "You have a knack for finding things that are best left buried."
Elara stood her ground, her heart pounding against her ribs. "This city belongs to everyone," she retorted, her voice trembling slightly. "The stories within it are meant to be shared, not hoarded."
The Guild member chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Stories are power, child. And power belongs to those who know how to wield it." He gestured towards the tablet. "Hand it over, and we might let you live."
Elara knew she couldn't fight them. The Obsidian Guild was ruthless, their reach extending far beyond the ruins of Old Veridia. But she wouldn't surrender the tablet so easily. It was more than just an artifact; it was a piece of history, a fragment of truth that deserved to be revealed.
Thinking quickly, Elara feigned compliance. "Alright," she said, raising her hands in surrender. "You win. But be careful with it. The symbols are delicate." As she spoke, she subtly shifted her weight, positioning herself near a pile of loose rubble.
The Guild members advanced cautiously, their eyes fixed on the tablet. As they reached for it, Elara kicked the rubble, sending a shower of stones towards them. The distraction was enough. She darted past them, her nimble feet carrying her through the maze of crumbling walls.
"After her!" the Guild member roared, his voice filled with fury.
Elara didn't look back. She knew they would pursue her relentlessly. The Obsidian Guild wouldn't let her escape with the tablet. She had stumbled upon something they desperately wanted to keep hidden, and now her life was in grave danger.