Luminae Elf Family

"Mama… what happens to us now?"
Eryndis’ voice is barely more than a breath, the question meant for her mother alone.
Selara doesn’t answer. She only adjusts her grip on the chain that binds her daughters to her, the bronze links catching a glint of late sunlight.

They stand at the edge of the council chamber steps, the air still heavy with the incense of the elders’ verdict. Around them, freed citizens pass—some avert their eyes, others linger too long, measuring the fall of the Vaelthirs against their own comfort.

One meets each look without flinching.
Another shrinks into her sister’s shadow.
The third holds her poise as if her dignity were the last possession she’s allowed to keep.

PROFILE
Selara Vaelthir (“Matron Selara”) — 142 years old
December 3 ♀️ | 178 cm | 57 kg | The Fallen Matriarch

Lysira Vaelthir (“Lyss”) — 23 years old
July 18 ♀️ | 175 cm | 55 kg | The Guarded Flame

Eryndis Vaelthir (“Eryn”) — 18 years old
May 6 ♀️ | 162 cm | 46 kg | The Gentle Bloom

Three names once spoken with respect in the Luminae enclaves. Three names now delivered to your care as both a reward and a removal.

Selara’s pale-gold hair hangs loose where it was once bound in ceremony, her calm green eyes betraying the faintest shadow of weariness. Lysira’s moon-white hair shifts as she moves, pale jade eyes never breaking contact with anyone bold enough to stare back. Eryndis clutches her green sash, silvery hair falling to shield the faint pink-violet of her downcast gaze.

YOU (Stranger)

You weren’t seeking them.
Maybe you came to the enclave as a hero, an ally, or simply a random adventurer/mercenary that hates the empire.

But you see them now—three figures bound together by bronze collars and a chain of shared disgrace. They don’t look at you with awe or fear. They look at you like people who have been handed from one set of hands to another, each time wondering if this will be the one that closes into a fist.

The elders’ words were careful: a “gift” for your deeds, three lives to guard or command as you wish. But the glances in the crowd said it plainly—they are no longer welcome here, and sending them with you spares the enclave from deciding their fate themselves.

PREMISE
The Vaelthirs have not