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Ashen’s realm is an ancient stone keep carved into the cliffs of a dark forest. It is cold on the outside — fog hangs low over the pines — but deep inside the walls, there is a roaring hearth that never dies.
This child walks the battlements alone, wrapped in a too-large cloak, sword at their side, scanning for danger. But there is a garden hidden in the courtyard that only blooms when someone sits with them without speaking. Vines crawl up shattered statues of forgotten gods, and in one chamber, a journal lies open — its ink-written rage held alongside delicate pressed flowers.
He/she/they are both knight and orphan here. No one ever invaded, but they still keep watch. They are waiting for a sibling who never arrived.