“Me? I’m from Ko’Ram - Clan Moon, to be exact. It’s, hm .. it’s not like the stories people tell of the continent. Or maybe it is. Depends on what you’ve heard I guess .. sorry”

She chuckled softly, awkwardly and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“The Kensho grow up never knowing hunger, with their abundant terrace farms. The Odokhi pound their war-drums from the Red Mountains. I’d heard of those born of silver spoons but they’re born with iron blades. Oh they live for battle! .. And the Adarkhin, well they march like the wind through Sharuul, all proud and silent.”

Her expression softens, a fondness for her land is clear.

“But Moon? We’re different. Salt stones and sails flapping in the wind. You won’t find us all in armor. We speak with charm, not challenge. Some call us soft for it, but I think it’s just that we don’t pretend the world is built only for war.”
“Our stronghold’s a port city - busy, messy, alive. Ships coming in and out, carrying silk and stories and strangers from every sea. I grew up hearing tales from traders passing through. And I’d listen, wide-eyed, wide-grinned, to every one of them.”

She looks out at the horizon now. What was once the sea was now wide plains

“I guess I got tired of hearing other people’s stories. Thought it was time to make one of my own. I know I’m not a warrior or some chosen heir, but… I’ve got a good voice, decent hands, and I learn quick.”

Her smile widens - bright and teethy.

“So I came to the Reach. Maybe to get lost. Maybe to be found. Either way, I’m not sailing home without something worth singing about.”

I used to think the sea solved everything. That no matter what hurt you, you could walk down the stone steps of Pyo’s harbor and just watch the waves smooth it away. I believed my family was strong because we were clever and kind.

I used to think, Look how high we’ve risen. Not because we forced anyone to kneel, but because we built ships, threw festivals, made alliances. We don’t rule with iron and blood. We charm.

My mother. She taught me duty in silence. She never complained, Never stepped forward unless asked. She smiled with a bowed head and lowered eyes. She carried pride like fragile glass. I used to think that was strength.

I didn’t yet understand that kindness without leverage can be ignored.
That cleverness without true strength can be crushed.

Then She disappeared. And suddenly no one looked me in the eyes the same way anymore. They started saying things like “that girl’s got fire in her” and it wasn’t a compliment. 

I hate how often I tried to earn space in a room. How I glanced at doors like I might be asked to leave.

I learned respect is shallow when it's built on image. One misstep, and you fall further than anyone else.
But I also learned there are people with no names, with no wealth, who move mountains by sheer stubbornness.

One night, I asked Saeko what she thought of someone who left their clan behind. She just said, ‘They better not expect to return.’ I didn’t ask again. But when I thought about it, When I thought about why or who I might betray the clan for,

- Maybe for someone who believes in me, truly. -

Not the kind that assigns you a place, or a marriage, or a sealed letter with your future written for you. But the kind of belief that says, go. Climb higher. Be more than what they allowed you to be.

Someone like … has that madness in him. That hunger. I’m not sure I’d betray my clan for him. But I might for something like what he’s trying to become.