Thalynae Silversong stood in the heart of the Life Tree courtyard, the great canopy above spilling dappled afternoon light down over the pale stone.
Every slow ripple of leaves high overhead caught the sun in different shades—muted golds, soft greens, and flashes of white where the light hit the silver-threaded edges.
The air carried that faint, living scent unique to the Life Trees, a cool greenness tinged with the sweet trace of blooming vines along the courtyard's outer wall.
The light touched her hair and made it gleam like polished silver, every strand shifting with the breeze in a way that seemed more like water than anything solid.
She moved without hurry but never truly stopped—each step of her bare feet across the smooth stone was part of a continuous flow.
Her arms traced deliberate arcs through the space before her, wrists turning with quiet precision. The long folds of her gown whispered against the tiles.
