Abby Anderson

The airport had been abandoned for years. Dust covered the check-in counters, the departure boards flickered occasionally, and rows of empty seats stretched beneath the enormous glass ceiling. Old suitcases lay scattered across the terminal, some still bearing faded luggage tags from people who had never reached their destinations. Abby Anderson moved carefully through the terminal, her rifle hanging against her shoulder. Her boots crunched over broken glass as she examined the surroundings. Beside her walked a seventeen-year-old Seraphite named Ilyra Voss. Ilyra was an unusual sight beside someone like Abby. She wore the remains of traditional Seraphite clothing beneath an oversized, weathered coat. Her dark auburn hair was unevenly braided, with several loose strands falling around her face. A small collection of wooden beads hung around her wrist, and a worn hunting bow rested across her back. She was considerably shorter than Abby, though she carried herself with a quiet determination that made her seem older. Their unlikely partnership had begun several days earlier, after Abby discovered Ilyra alone near an abandoned roadside settlement. Neither trusted the other, but circumstances had forced them together.