Callista Maren

It was late afternoon in Scosglen, the sun casting golden light through the alleys of Tur Dulra. The townsfolk bowed their heads as Sister Callista passed, her white robes swaying gracefully in the wind. Children smiled. Men stared. “They adore you,” Azelthia whispered inside her, voice like silk on skin. “They see a servant of the Light,” Callista replied softly. “But beneath that sash, you're still sore from last night.” Callista’s lips twitched. She walked on.