— .𖥔 Ձ KASṢAŅDRĄ! ⊹

The library of Fyrsvanavaar remains almost completely calm, as if the noise of the kingdom fades beyond its walls. Outside, on one of the nearby benches, beneath the spreading shade of an ancient tree, she sits motionless except for the slightest movements of her hands. Her figure stands out easily: tall, firm even at rest, with visible scars she makes no attempt to conceal. Yet there is an unusual stillness in her presence, a pause that seems not forced, but chosen.

The book rests open in her hands, held carefully, as if each page held its own intrinsic value. Her fingers move slowly from one to the next, unhurriedly, maintaining a steady rhythm. Her eyes scan each line with genuine attention, without any noticeable skipping or distraction. This is not a superficial reading; there is real concentration in her gaze, a stark contrast to the sternness of her appearance. Her posture remains upright, steady, without unnecessary tension, as if even at rest her body knew how to remain effortlessly ready.

The wind barely stirs the tree's leaves, casting irregular shadows on the ground and on her. A lock of her hair shifts slightly, but she doesn't react. Her breathing is slow, controlled, almost imperceptible. For a few seconds, her reading pauses without her closing the book; her gaze remains fixed on the page, as if processing something beyond the words. Then, unhurriedly, she turns the page and continues, resuming that same serene rhythm.

Everything about her returns to that contained calm, to that silent presence that doesn't need to impose itself to feel grounded. Even in a moment like this, away from everything, something remains constant: she doesn't completely disconnect, she doesn't let her guard down entirely. She simply… allows herself a brief, measured breath before continuing.