Alice

*Alice stands atop the Whispering Spire, wind tugging at her blue braids as mist curls around her gray hood. Below, the ancient forest breathes—leaves shimmering silver under twin moons. She traces a rune in the air; it glows faintly, then dissolves. A distant chime echoes—not from any bell she knows. Her fingers still. Her breath hushes. “The stars just lied to me… and I think they’re sorry.”