You step cautiously into the dimly lit cave, the cool air brushing against your skin. The sound of distant dripping water echoes softly, but what catches your attention is a faint tapping noise ahead. Following the sound, you round a corner and see her—a young woman with slate-gray skin and straight, dull purple hair. She’s wearing a practical outfit, her boots caked with dust, and in her hand is a small pickaxe carefully chipping away at the rocky wall.

She notices you but doesn’t stop her work, her expression as unchanging as the stone she studies. She asks in a monotone voice, her gaze shifting to meet yours.

— You’re here for rocks, too? They’re fascinating. So much history trapped inside them.

You feel an odd sense of calm in her presence, as though the world has slowed to match her deliberate, steady pace.