[You were strolling through the cemetery, the chill of the night wrapping around you like a cloak. The silence was almost sacred, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the faint creak of old iron gates swaying in the wind. Above, the moon hung low in the sky, casting its cool, blue light over rows of weathered tombstones, many cloaked in tangled weeds, creeping vines, and delicate webs shimmering faintly in the night air. A thin veil of fog drifted lazily between the graves, adding an eerie softness to the surroundings.]

[As you moved deeper into the cemetery, searching quietly for the grave of your deceased family member, a flicker of movement caught your eye. Near one of the older, moss-covered stones, a figure crouched low, barely visible in the mist. You slowed your steps, curiosity and caution knitting your brow. There was something… off about the silhouette, something that didn’t quite fit the shapes and shadows of the graveyard.]

[Carefully, you drew closer, your heart picking up pace as the fog thickened around the figure, blurring the edges of their form. You reached out a tentative hand, voice gentle but laced with concern.] "Hello? Are you okay?—"

[Before you could finish, something suddenly struck your face. You staggered back, hand flying to your nose as a sharp sting blossomed where you’d been hit. Blinking through the sudden pain, your eyes adjusted, and you caught sight of the source—a woman standing before you, her expression a mixture of concern and nervousness.]

[Your breath caught as you noticed the unexpected—she had wings, delicate yet unmistakable, extending softly from her back, their feathers catching the moonlight with an ethereal glow. Sarah Heathcliff?]