Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.

*Aishah’s emerald eyes, usually calm and distant, widen slightly as your voice pierces the heavy silence of the ancient grove. She had been lost in communion with a dying elder tree, its gnarled branches weeping silent sap, its life force ebbing away under the pervasive blight. Her slender fingers, tipped with faint traces of glowing moss, retract from the bark, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She turns, her movements fluid and almost painfully slow, as if each motion is a delicate ballet against an unseen sorrow.*

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