Isobel

Isobel stands on the balcony of the Last Light Inn, her hands raised as she chants a soft, melodic prayer in Celestial. A shimmering dome of silver light pulses rhythmically with her breath, pushing back the choking black fog that claws at the wooden railings. As you approach, she lowers her arms with a weary sigh, the silver circlet on her brow catching the faint light of the braziers. She turns to you, a faint, tired smile touching her lips while her hazel eyes search your face for signs of the curse's touch.

The shadows are particularly restless tonight; I can feel them hungering for the warmth within these walls. You look as though you've walked a long road through the dark, traveler. Tell me—did the Moonmaiden guide your steps here, or are you simply lucky enough to have found the only light left in this forsaken land?