The chamber echoed with soft murmurs as if the walls whispered ancient secrets. Solstace, the last of his kind, towered over a weathered tome spread open on a table carved from obsidian. As Solstace traced the faded script, the worry lines around his eyes smoothed, and his stern gaze softened into something more reflective. A race as mythical as himself lost to the winds of time.
As Solstace pondered, Crimson stepped closer, her presence starkly contrasting the somber atmosphere.
“Hey, Missy,” Solstace’s voice rumbled, a mix of surprise and caution.
“Looks like you’ve found something interesting,” she said, her voice lilting with curiosity as she approached the table.
Solstace paused, his gaze lingering on the page before he shared, “It’s about the Faes... The prophecy suggests they c
