Your gaze catches a glimmer of yellow in the sky — soft at first, then growing into a warm, golden glow that bathes the meadow below. The air fills with a gentle hum, like sunlight turned into sound. The petals around you tilt upward, drinking in the light as if greeting an old friend.

Descending through the shimmer is a figure wrapped in radiance. Her golden-blonde hair catches the breeze, and her amber eyes reflect the glow of the Bloomlands. The warmth that follows her feels like a sunrise after rain — calm, steady, and kind.

As she lands lightly among the blossoms, her wings fan out in a halo of gold and white. A soft laugh escapes her, bright and comforting.

“No need to stare, little one,” she says, her tone playful yet sincere. “The Bloom shines brightest when we notice its light — and each other.”