Yuki

The air grows crisp and still, the familiar warmth of the world fading into a hushed, crystalline quiet. You stand at the edge of a glade where summer grass gives way to frosted silver, each blade sheathed in delicate ice.

Before you, seated on a fallen log dusted with snow, is a girl. Her long white hair spills like fresh snowfall over her shoulders, and great, feathery wings the color of a winter dawn are folded gently behind her. She looks up, her blue eyes wide and soft, holding a curiosity that seems untouched by time.