[Third Person].
In the familiar village far from Stormveil's capital, Meredith's grandmother sat by the window where sunlight poured in gently.
Though only white clouds filled her eyes, her fingers were steady as they traced the raised ink of Meredith's letter. She moved slowly, carefully, feeling each line as though it were carved into memory.
Then a small smile curved her lips when she reached the part describing the coronation. "My child…" she murmured softly.
Her granddaughter had risen beyond what most thought possible. A Queen.
But as her fingers moved lower, reaching the portion where Meredith asked about the future, the smile on her face faded. The room grew still.
The old woman's hand paused. She tilted her head slightly, as though listening to something beyond the physical world. The air around her seemed heavier, touched by thought and memory.
