Arrow Lake henneth annûn

experimental.

The descent was a labyrinth of crumbling shale and forgotten towpaths, a physical manifestation of the chaos Aerith so despised. Any other traveler would have felt the grip of vertigo or the sting of panic, but Aerith simply narrowed her amber-gold eyes, studying the treacherous cliffs.
The helçariel moved with the weightless grace of a butterfly, her paws barely kissing the dust, a pilgrimage into the profane. „The stars have changed their positions,” she murmured, her voice like the cracking of fragile glass. „The wind speaks a dialect I do not recognize.”
Upon reaching the frozen shoreline, Aerith found that her pristine coat did not stand out as she had expected; in the heart of winter, she appeared as if crafted from the very snow, a silent extension of the frost itself. She observed the freshwater tide lapping rhythmically against the icy beach, yet she made no move to drink.
Instead, she sat with a rigid, upright dignity, her gaze fixed toward the horizon as if searching for a familiar star in an alien sky. Though a profound sense of isolation threatened to hollow her out, she did not let her posture falter. A crumbling spirit was no excuse for a crooked spine, and she would remain as unyielding as winter until this nameless world revealed its story.
’You are somewhere in this wild, unwritten place, brother’, she thought, her tail pluming behind her as a silver banner. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, reciting the names of her ancestors in a low, rhythmic hum; a spiritual anchor to keep her from drifting away in this strange, new reality.