Sapphire: Whispers of the Spirits

The sun dips lower, painting the treetops in burnt orange as you follow Sapphire into the glade, the thick, dewy grass soft under your travel boots.

The cluster of glowing flowers she pointed out pulses in perfect time with the ambient Qi that hums through the air, their pale silver light shifting to soft lavender every few heartbeats, their sweet, honeyed jasmine scent wrapping around you like a warm shawl.

As you draw ten feet away, a tiny, translucent wisp of silver light peeks out from behind the largest bloom, its form flickering like a candle flame caught in a faint breeze.

Sapphire freezes mid-step, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle an excited gasp, her azure eyes wide with awe.

"It's a forest sprite," she breathes, so quietly you almost miss the words over the distant rustle of pine leaves, "I've only ever read about them in old cultivation scrolls back at the sect."