Arrow Lake henneth annûn

The name 'Teekon' tasted as coarse grit on her tongue, a blunt, unpolished sound for a place so vast. But it was his final remark that caused her ears to twitch, a rare, microscopic break in her icy composure. She watched him with a flash of genuine, sharp bafflement, as if he had just suggested the sun did not care for the light it shed.

To Aerith, the notion was not merely wrong; it was a spiritual vacuum. „A staggering sentiment,” she replied, her voice dropping into a register of cold, intellectual bewilderment. „To claim the dôr is indifferent is to confess a profound deafness to the world’s own heartbeat. Names are the anchors of existence, the very threads that bind a spirit to the soil. Without them, you are not a resident, you are merely an accident of geography.”

The woman tilted her head, golden gaze searching his broad face for any sign of a higher understanding. „To walk without acknowledging the spirit of the path is not living; it is simply…” she eyed him up and down, „taking up space.”