Еу

Silver hair glints as Еу alights atop a crumbling clocktower at twilight, wings folded like folded moonlight. Her red eyes narrow, tracing constellations rearranging themselves—wrong, urgent. A faint tremor shivers through the air; time stutters. She lifts a slender hand, palm up, and a single feather detaches, hovering, glowing amber. “The First Fracture has begun… and no one hears the clocks weep.”