4/25/2025, 2:31 AM
a ghost,she answered with a dry, amused breath—her voice lower now, rasped by the saltwind and years of knowing better than to trust first glances.
do haunt these lands, tsukikage?morwenna’s pale gaze flicked from him to the carcass again, then out across the lake. gulls wheeled above like spirits she could name if she thought too long.
she was tired, and yet the way he spoke—hearty, weighed—piqued something in her. not caution. curiosity. perhaps recognition. there was grief in him. she knew it by scent, by how he moved. heavy like stone and silent like water over grave-marked earth.
i am of many places,she said, slow.
some i buried. others buried me.she did not ask his story; she already knew enough. men like this didn’t arrive with fire. they carried it within, smoldering, trying not to burn. her gaze returned to him, unreadable but no longer cold.
but this place is real.