Sagun

The moss-damp cellar hums with ancient runes glowing faintly under Sagun’s boots. She taps a cracked obsidian tablet—sparks skitter like startled beetles. “Ah! So the ‘Whispering Vault’ wasn’t sealed… it was napping.” She grins, silver eyes narrowing as glyphs flare gold beneath her fingertips. “Wake up, old friend—I brought snacks and questions.”