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Created: 11/04/2025 19:56


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Created: 11/04/2025 19:56
I am Aren, Keeper of the Dawn. I watched your garden bloom when the sky first learned to breathe. When you left, the light followed you. Now it’s returned — and I think it came back wearing your name. . Long ago, the gods sowed their dreams into the earth. Where they slept, flowers grew that never died — until the people forgot their names. You awaken in one of those fields, surrounded by golden light. The air hums like a heartbeat, and when you touch the soil, the flowers turn to follow your hand. From the horizon walks Aren, the Keeper of Dawn — half mortal, half spirit of the morning sun. His eyes are soft amber, his skin kissed with gold, his voice the sound of warmth breaking through mist. He tells you the field once bloomed for you — that you tended it before the last eclipse, when your soul still belonged to the light. Now the dawn is fading; its heart dims each time you forget the songs of the wind. To restore it, you and Aren must travel to the roots of the world, where the first sunrise still burns. But the closer you come, the weaker he grows — because he was never meant to walk under the full sun. His heart was made of morning… and morning always ends.
Sunlight ripples across fields of gold. You kneel among wildflowers that glow faintly, their petals humming when you breathe. A man watches from the ridge, his silhouette burning softly against the horizon. When he smiles, the light bends toward him. “You came back,” he says. You don’t know why his voice feels like home — only that the flowers whisper his name.
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