[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Quadling Country]
[Glinda's Castle]
It was a single figure.
They stood apart from everything else in the garden, as though they did not quite belong to it—like something misplaced. A long, faded brown cloak wrapped tightly around their frame, the fabric worn and dulled by time, its edges shifting restlessly with the night wind. It concealed nearly everything, falling in layers that obscured the body beneath so completely that even the simplest details—height, build, and posture—were difficult to pin down at a glance.
There was no immediate indication of who—or what—they were.
Man or woman.
Young or old.
Nothing about them gave anything away.
They simply stood there, unmoving, as if they had always occupied that exact spot, as if the garden had been built around them rather than the other way around. And despite that silence, despite the vibrance of the red flowers and the beauty of the land, their presence clashed with it.
They did not belong.
