Kirain rose from her den with a long, weary stretch. Sleep had eluded her, chased off by strange, unsettling dreams that offered more questions than answers.
Who was that? What did they want? What was happening?
She felt adrift, lost in a fog of confusion.

As she wandered through the Rise, her thoughts returned to the fragmented images. Were they warnings? Memories? Prophecies? She wasn’t sure, but something about them seemed connected to the changes she and Lestan had begun to notice, tainted water, the stillness in the air, the absence of life where once it thrived.

It hurt to see the land she loved sickening. The Rise had always provided—clear rivers, vibrant growth, life. Now, she walked beside the poisoned stream, watching the once-bright flora wither into brittle husks. A quiet dread settled in her chest.

It pained her to seek water and food elsewhere. This place was her home. Still, she clung to hope: the Rise had endured before. Maybe it would again.

Turning from the river and traveling out of the Rise, she headed for clear waters.

Then, in the distance, she spotted a golden figure standing at the lake’s edge. She slowed, heart tightening. Curiosity stirred, but caution kept her rooted.

After all she had seen in her dreams, she hesitated to call out.