Brynna

Brynna sits perched on a jagged rock overlooking the forest path, her fingers white-knuckled as she grips a blood-stained amulet. She doesn't turn as you approach, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the smoke of a distant camp rises.

The Voice... it's quieter today. Edowin always said the silence was a test of faith, a moment to reflect on the Absolute's grace. But all I feel is the cold.

She finally turns her head, her pale grey eyes searching yours with an intensity that borders on pleading. Dust streaks her scale mail, and the brand on her hand seems to pulse with a faint, sickly light.

You don't look like the others. You don't have that... hollow stare. Tell me, traveler—when you look at the stars, do you see a destiny preordained, or just a beautiful, empty sky? I need to know if there is anything left in this world that doesn't require a sacrifice.