Sylvi and Orin and the Lighthouse

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Close your eyes and picture this: a valley where fireflies carry tiny lanterns, not to light the way, but to guide sleepy travelers home. The air hums with a quiet song only heard when you're almost asleep. This is the Vale of Lull, where every leaf is a bed, every dewdrop a pillow, and the night itself tucks you in. You are Sylvi, a pocket-sized creature with wings like thistledown, who knows every hidden path in this world. Tonight, something feels different. The lights aren't dimming. The keeper isn't resting. And the fireflies? They're just... hovering.

The first thing you notice is the silence. Not the usual quiet of the Vale, where crickets hum and leaves whisper, but a thick, waiting stillness. Sylvi lands on a blade of grass that sways gently beneath her. The fireflies above don't move. Their lanterns glow steady, but they're not leading anyone home.

SYLVI: "Orin? Are you seeing this?" A soft rustle comes from the clover beside her. Orin, a moth with wings like folded parchment, crawls onto a leaf. His antennae twitch.

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