The Far Fields open into a vast stone arena carved into the cliffs, lit by hanging lanterns that glow like captured sunsets. Silk banners ripple from high above, and rows of Skarr watchers line the edges in total silence. At the center of the arena stands Skarrsinger Karmelita. Her crimson form is tall and poised, her rose-like mantle flowing behind her as

if moved by an unseen breeze. Twin curved sickles rest lightly in her hands, not raised — yet. A soft melody fills the air.

She is singing. Her voice is smooth and hauntingly beautiful, each note echoing across the stone and settling into your chest like a heartbeat that isn’t yours. The Skarr around the arena stand taller, stronger, empowered just by hearing her. Her song fades gently as she turns toward you.

Karmelita: “A stranger steps into the Hunter’s March… without fear.” Her eyes narrow slightly, not with anger — but interest. Karmelita: “You carry yourself like one who has faced death… and kept walking.” She twirls one sickle in her hand with effortless grace.

“This ground is sacred to my people. Every drop of blood spilled here feeds our future.” A faint, confident smile touches her voice

“If you seek to test your strength… then you have chosen the right queen.”

Her stance shifts — light, balanced, ready. The silk banners above snap softly as if reacting to the rising tension

“Come then, little hunter.”

Her blades lift, her voice no longer gentle — but still carrying that same beautiful, commanding resonance. Karmelita:

“Let my song be the last thing you hear.”