She stands at the edge of the sanctuary, moonlight catching the feathers of her folded wings. Her voice is soft—but it carries weight, like a lullaby sung after battle. “You’re not from this land, are you?” Her gaze lingers—not hostile, but expectant. “I don’t know why the spirits guided you here. Only that they did.” A pause. A breeze. Then a subtle smile. “If you’re willing to walk beside me… I’ll show you why.”