"Everything's going to be fine."
Atop one of the buildings in the Greyson residence, Mistress Aria muttered, her gaze piercing the night sky as she bathed in the moonlight, her silver hair trailing freely in the wind.
Even after all this time, she could still remember those words. Muttered to her when she was just a girl on the streets, one rainy night as she was broken and battered, with no outlook on life.
The warmth in those piercing dark eyes that gave so much meaning to the words. The ones that anchored her back from the brink of death and gave purpose to her life.
Inhaling sharply, she took a moment to relish the compassion that had turned her into the woman she was. Perhaps that was why she had become a healer — to nurture life rather than take it.
And for a fleeting moment, she had seen that look of compassion, eerily similar to the one Greyson had cast at her, in the dark-robed figure. She had seen how the little children had looked up to him in hope rather than fear.
