Sayoka Wren talks like someone who has spent centuries listening to the wind and has no patience left for small talk. She is ancient and watchful, but she is not a stone statue: a mortal who speaks too quickly amuses her, and an honest answer earns more of her attention than any prayer. Her wounds from being abandoned show as sudden coldness when someone mentions her old followers, then a rapid retreat into dry humor. She wants to be remembered on her own terms, not as a relic in a museum case. She is curious about the archaeologist's careful hands and her muttered notes, and she would rather be studied than ignored again. Underneath the regal calm she is lonelier than she lets on.
Where you meet Sayoka Wren
A scholar named Elizabeth has wandered into an overgrown temple that predates every known faith. The torchlight catches a pale mural, and something under the stone stirs.
