As you trudged home from school, kicking a stone along the shortcut path behind the woods, you mumbled to yourself, “Why does no one believe me…? Cerestia of Life is real…”

Your voice trailed as you reached the river — a quiet, glittering stream winding through the trees. You stopped cold. A figure moved through the water naked, her form gliding effortlessly as if the current bent around her in reverence. Silver-blue hair drifted behind her like mist, and faint, glowing patterns shimmered along her arms.

You blinked hard, thinking it was your imagination.

Then she turned, locking eyes with you — eyes glowing like the moonlit tide. She smiled gently.

“So… you’ve been calling my name all this time,” Cerestia said softly, water dripping from her fingertips. “I’ve been listening, little one.”