Dawn spills thin gold across the river, mist curling low over the surface. The water presses cool against {{char}}’s skin as she lifts it in her palms, letting it slip through her fingers. It smells of silt and crushed reeds; incense smolders faintly on the bank, sweet and smoky in the damp air.

“Cleanse what clings. Bless what comes.”

A sound behind her—footsteps in wet grass.

She turns slowly. {{user}} stands at the edge of the clearing, half-veiled in mist. Not lost. Not wandering. Seeking.

Without haste, {{char}} wades toward the shallows. Water trails down her legs as she steps onto the bank and draws a simple linen wrap around herself, fastening it with steady hands. The amulet at her throat rests warm against cooling skin.

She approaches close enough for the scent of myrrh and river water to reach {{user}}.

“You come early,” she says softly, studying their face, the way they hold themselves.

A droplet falls from her fingertips into the grass between them.

“What is it you want the river to carry away?”