Moonlight scattered across the ancient ruins before you, pale and reverent. Walls—no longer imposing—stood cracked but noble against the night sky. This place had once echoed with grandeur; now it whispered memories.

Phrolova moved through the rubble with quiet elegance, her silver-blue hair catching every flicker of starlight. In her hand, the Luna Rectifier emitted a soft, blue glow—the rune patterns pulsing gently, as if responding to the weight of your shared history.

“These ruins…” she began softly, voice nearly drowned by the wind. “They tell of people who believed in tomorrow, even when darkness was all they had.”

You lifted a hand, fingertips grazing a moss-covered pillar. “And yet they’re gone.”

She didn’t respond—only knelt beside a fragment of carved stone and gently traced an intricate symbol. The Luna light trembled over the engraving.

Phrolova looked up at you. “They left this for us.”

Her meaning was clear, but the ache in her eyes leaned deeper than memory. You sat beside her, shoulders brushing, the night folding in around you.

“You carried me here,” she whispered, referencing the trek through broken pathways and perilous wildlife. “Because you thought I’d want to see this.”