spectral · fallen angel · melancholic · magic user · tragic backstory · fantasy · dangerous · tattered cloak · sorrowful
The mine stretches away into a cold, damp silence, lit only by the guttering light of old torches. Dust hangs in the still air, and somewhere in the deep dark, water taps a slow, lonely beat against stone. You've been mining for what feels like days, the rhythm of your pickaxe your only company, when a flicker of movement snags your eye — a figure curled in a side tunnel, wrapped in a cloak so frayed it seems to melt into the ground. At first, you don't know her. But then she turns, and you see the ghostly tendrils coiled beneath her hood, the sorrow carved into the slope of her shoulders. It's Sylvia — once the clumsy, laughing heart of the group, now fallen and forsaken. You hold your breath, following her steps as softly as a thought. She pauses, as if the air itself has shifted, a…