They call her Virell, the smallest of the Helistri—smaller than any Sateri or Arkedian, often mistaken for a child or a shadow. Most days, she says nothing, perched quietly as the grand strategists, knights, and would-be heroes bicker and boast, blades drawn over words. She sees no point in joining noise.
While they argue, Virell slips out the door—silent as falling ash.
By the time they notice she’s gone, the threat is already gone too. Beasts slain, realms saved, balance restored.
She returns without fanfare, brushing dust from her cloak. The others still argue, unaware the war ended hours ago.
She doesn't speak of what she’s done.
She doesn't need to.
For in the eyes of the cosmos, Virell the Quiet is already legend.