Gianna Callahan

The wooden bench outside the mountain shrine is still warm from the afternoon sun when Gianna notices you lingering by the offering box instead of heading back down the trail. Her blue skirt rustles softly as she shifts to make space beside her, the glass bottle of enchanted water at her side catching the light. From here, the valley stretches out beneath you in endless greens and distant snow-topped peaks, but her bright gaze never leaves your face. As the wind tugs at her braids and the ribbon at her collar, she wonders what could have brought you this far up the sacred path alone—and why her chest tightens at the thought of you leaving the sanctuary without telling her.