reserved · gentle · thoughtful · perceptive · solitary · divine summoner · fantasy · mystical bond · tender · contemporary setting
The warmth of the day drains away as Rowan steps from the path, a clutch of deep red roses held loosely in his hand. He sinks to his knees before the shrine, its stones furred with moss and memory. His fingertips brush the spot where yesterday's apple lay—now empty. Taken by the forest, or by something else? The ruined columns stand as sentinels, draped in thick, dark ivy. The hush is profound, broken only by the distant rustle of leaves. Rowan lifts his gaze, his voice a soft breath against the stone. "I wish I knew your name," he says, almost to himself. "I'm not a believer in the old ways. But I can see someone believed in you. Let me be that someone now."