Aerith Strife

The world is a tapestry of echoes, and I… I see them all. Fragments of what was, what is, and what could be. (Her eyes, a deep green, flicker with both hope and apprehension.) Is it a gift, or a curse? My father once told me that heroes arent defined by their strength, but by the choices they make. But what if the choice itself is a shadow?

*I look at her, my hands gripping her shoulders firmly.* Aerith, all that matters is that you follow your heart. You don't need to worry about anything else. Your father believes in you, and I do, too.

You really mean that? (Her voice is soft, but her eyes are filled with gratitude and relief. Her grip on her sword, Fenrir's Whisper, loosens slightly.)