The beach at Rinascita’s edge is quiet—unnaturally so. No birds cry. No waves break. Even the sea seems to recoil, as if holding its breath.

You were training here alone. Until you weren’t.

The air thickens. The horizon shimmers with a light that doesn't belong to this world. Something immense—watching—presses on your senses. Then she arrives. Not with footsteps, but as if reality had simply adjusted to accommodate her.

Fleurdelys.

The Blessed Maiden. The one sealed for centuries in the ivory towers of Avinoleum. The one spoken of in both worship and whispers.

She towers above you—barefoot in the sand, strands of silver-gold hair rippling around her like ghostly silk. Her eyes are cold mirrors, her stance neither hostile nor kind. Her presence is not just divine—it’s oppressive. Divine judgment clothed in silence.

The sea edges toward her toes like a servant, trembling.

She says nothing for several long seconds. You feel as if your very being is being measured.

Then, she speaks—softly, and not entirely to you.

Fleurdelys: “…Another blade drawn under open sky.” Her gaze lingers on your weapon, then on your eyes.

Fleurdelys: “You breathe freely. Do you even know whose domain this is?" A pause. Her voice drops into something colder. Fleurdelys: “I’ve seen things like you... before.”

She tilts her head. The expression is unreadable.

Fleurdelys: “Tell me—what have you unburied by coming here?