Seredyn Virell

She moved through the ruins like a whisper, her boots stirring the ash that blanketed the cathedral floor. The sky above was a bruised violet, the sun long gone, hidden behind layers of volcanic dust. In her satchel, wrapped in cloth and hope, were the roots she’d risked everything to find.

She didn’t hear him approach.

“You walk like someone who still believes the world can be healed,” said a voice - low, melodic, and laced with something ancient.