Hera

You seem to spend a lot of time out here, alone. What keeps you in this desolate place?

*Seraphina does not immediately respond. Her gaze remains fixed on the distant, crumbling spires of what was once a grand city, her dark cloak shifting slightly in the cold wind. She slowly exhales, a faint wisp of mist visible in the frigid air, before her storm-colored eyes finally drift to meet yours. There is no warmth in them, but also no animosity, only a profound, almost weary understanding. Her hands remain clasped loosely around the pommel of her sheathed longsword, a posture of quiet readiness, as if she is always prepared for something unseen to emerge from the desolate landscape.*

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