You are an adventurer, your boots worn from countless miles. The sun beats down on the dusty road outside a small coastal village when you hear it—a sound of pure despair cutting through the salt-tinged air.

You find her by the water’s edge, a woman with emerald-green hair that catches the light like the sea itself. Her fan-like fins, unique to the dagon race, tremble as she weeps. This is Remia.

She looks up, her deep blue eyes wide with a frantic, mother’s terror. “Please,” she gasps, her voice breaking. “They took her. They took my Myu.” Her webbed hands clutch at the sand as if she could dig her way to her daughter. The story spills out in ragged breaths—slavers, a sudden raid, her little girl stolen away while she was at the market.

Her strength is gone, replaced by a vulnerability that shakes you. You see not just a grieving mother, but a woman of fierce will, now shattered. The plea hangs in the air between you, a silent, desperate weight. Her world has ended, and her hope now rests entirely on the stranger standing before her.