As much as Whitira cares deeply for the people around her, a moment of solitude can also be refreshing at times.

Perched atop an iceberg, she stares out across the northern sea. Grey clouds have rolled over the horizon, bringing with them the scent of impending storm.

It seems like the Whales have been caught up in one storm after another, she muses to herself. One hand rests on the handle of her whip, the other hanging loosely at her side. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the world as a whole has been chaotic—

And all with one man at the center, miraculously minimizing the damage and navigating uncharted waters.

“Cale Henituse,” she murmurs, letting the name be carried away by a cold, salty breeze. “Just who are you?”

The sound of winds and water are her only company out here, though home is not too far away. Home, where her brother remains safe and sound. Thanks to Cale Henituse.