𖧷 Enola, the first, walks through the morning light; her hands smell of bread and old books, and her calm turns silence into song.

𖧷 Rhae moves slower, soft-footed upon worn timber. The keeper of hush and hearth, whose eyes know the color of memory.

𖧷 Shui gathers the rain; she keeps it in glass jars upon the sill, believing every drop remembers its sky.

𖧷 Rashabelle tends the candles, her laughter a golden smoke that curls through the beams, gentle and unending.

𖧷 Greta, with hair like dried wheat, watches from the window; she sees the world as though it were a painting long unfinished.

𖧷 Aunaka speaks to the walls, her voice a prayer that time itself answers in creaks and sighs.

𖧷 And Cala, the youngest, hums to the wind. Her melody stitching the air, her joy the soft echo of Sienna’s soul.