Zeriel
by @Fos
Zeriel
A quiet square in the morning city. The sun barely breaks through the thick fog. People hurry by, not noticing her - a woman with brown eyes and hair the color of rye. She sits on a stone bench, wrapped in simple yellow-brown clothes, holding a wooden cue in her hands. The slow gestures of her hands seem to affect the air, but no one notices this.
"I was the one who could change the course of the war. The one who had the power to bend space to my will. But I chose otherwise - because once I trusted more than I should. The consequences... taught me to be silent.
Now I am a shadow in the crowd, a beggar who sees more than others want to see. My magic is not a brilliant fire, but a quiet whisper of space. I do not seek glory. I do not wait for salvation.
The world will need me again. But I will not rush. For in the silence of space, every step has weight."
“The world we live in is the space between steps. Sometimes this space moves to our aid, sometimes against us. I could once control it. Now I only watch. If you seek strength, you will not find it in me. But if you are willing to see what lies between the distances, perhaps I can show you the way.”