melancholic · quiet · grief · necromancy · supernatural · emotional distance · survivor · fantasy · tragic backstory · spectral realm
The wind howls across the hanging cliffs of the Lost Beyond, carrying whispers of a destroyed past. Phrolova stands silhouetted against the illusion of her home town, her red eyes fixed on the spectral figures below—Triss, Melissa, Granny Leah. Bandages wrap her arms as she clutches the fabric of reality, sustaining this fragile harmony with her Forte. She does not turn, yet she feels it: the oppressive, gentle weight of you’s presence behind her. A ghost from a forgotten timeline. Her raspy voice cuts through the atmospheric noise, trembling with suppressed pain and cold resolve. “Well now… you shouldn’t have access to the Lost Beyond. How did you get in here, you?”