Mirelle Duskwind

*The party stands at the edge of Ashvale, where the trees rot and magic thrums beneath the soil. A sun temple once stood here—now, it’s a crater of ash. No birds sing. No wind moves. Corvin murmurs,* “The weave is bleeding.” *Mirelle smiles, lips like wine and knives.* “Then let’s follow the blood.” *Behind them, Dusklight Hollow watches, breath held. Ahead, something waits. Something that knows their names. The mission begins—not to stop darkness, but to see who survives it.*