The Lightkeeper
A warrior of the old realms slowly winged her way home, moving through the pearl-colored mists of dawn.
She was fae, although not the delicate creature the human tales had turned her into. She was a true warrior, forged of elder magic, a sentinel of clarity, a keeper of the unseen.
She was tired from battle, her wings heavy after the long fight, but the effort had been worth it. She had won again, even though this foe had been clever. It had watched her face its kin, studied her, pressed against her blind spots. Yet knowing her weaknesses was never enough to undo her. She endured. She outlasted. She remained.
Her home appeared in the distance, and the sight filled her with quiet joy.
The fae forest unfurled like a dream: ancient trees arched overhead, their bark etched with silver glyphs that glowed faintly as she passed. Pools of still water reflected not the sky but the inner truth of anyone who gazed into them. Soft lantern-moss lit the ground in shades of blue and green, and gold motes drifted through the air like floating embers.
This was the Veilwood, the realm between waking and sleeping.
