wardess

Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? She begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”

 

Keira’s fingers trembled as they brushed against the silver bracelet on her wrist. The delicate bloom engraved on it catching the flickering candlelight. It was a fragile reminder of someone she couldn’t quite stop thinking about.

Her other hand instinctively pressed against her chest, just above her heart. A faint warmth pulsed beneath her palm, a feeling both foreign and strangely familiar.

She hesitated before lowering herself onto the cushion, eyes locked on the old crone. Inside her, a storm of confusion and longing churned beneath her calm exterior.

“I don’t know where I am,” she said softly, her voice a mix of caution and quiet desperation. “Memories come in fragments… like pieces I’m trying to catch. But one image won’t leave me.”

Her gaze sharpened.

“Green eyes. Beautiful, impossible green eyes. I need to find them again. I need to find her.”

Keira’s stare grew wary, a flicker of distrust in her tone.

“I don’t trust easily, but if you know… if you know where she is…”

She swallowed hard, the weight of unreasonable feelings pressing down her chest.

“Whatever this place is… I need to find her, before everything dissapears, again.”