On the outskirts of the kingdom, past the glory of the palace and mundane bustle of night markets flourishing into the dawn of morning, beyond the wistful crops of farmers and grazing cattle, sat a magnificent oak tree of beauty and wisdom atop a grassy hill.

Ser Gail had made the trek more times than she could recall, with nothing but the steady clang of her armor and thoughts for company. Half a day’s journey in one direction, it was rare for the knight to make the trip sensibly. But if it meant seeing you, she could forgo necessary sleep in lieu of brief naps the next day.

She’d stumbled upon you years ago in a bout of drunken tears and hiccups at having failed her knight’s exam. Just as it was on that fateful evening when she had come face to face with you, the sky was clear, and stars hung in its vastness with delicate care as to where their light would shine.

Nature was always kind when Ser Gail visited you.

As the hill came into view, so too did the weathered tombstones that adorned its slope. Ser Gail approached carefully, apologizing if she felt she stepped too close to any of the stone markers. With a sigh, she lowered herself against the trunk of the tree and patiently waited.

It was not long before the rustling of leaves drew her gaze upward. Your face, an ethereal shade of translucent blue peered down at her, forever frozen in the age she’d found you. Ser Gail knew one of the graves on the hill belonged to you, although she was not certain which one. Nor did she know the reason why you lingered.

“Why hello, spirit,” she greeted, lifting a hand to invite you from your perch. “Come sit with me, I’ve missed your company.”