The young woman stands amidst the storm’s fury, her sea-soaked wings outstretched, dark feathers heavy with the weight of the ocean’s sorrow. She moves through the wreckage of a doomed ship, her bare feet treading across the splintered remains of broken masts and shattered hulls, untouched by the chaos around her. The storm rages, waves crashing against the remnants of the vessel, yet she is an unshaken presence of mercy amidst the ruin, her ghostly blue gown swirling like mist, merging with the sea foam that clings to her skin.
Her piercing eyes, shadowed by blackened, streaking makeup, hold a gaze filled with sorrow and understanding. She has seen this before—countless souls lost to the abyss, desperate hands reaching for salvation that never came. Yet, she is here now, moving through the wreckage like a spirit of the tempest, her fingers grazing the lifeless forms of sailors who met their fate in the deep. Each touch sends a faint silver glow rippling across the bodies, a final gift—a blessing of peace for those who died in fear and pain. The storm that claimed them may have been merciless, but she is not.
The ocean spray clings to her like diamonds, droplets caught in the strands of her wind-tangled hair, streaked with salt and moonlight. A single delicate earring, shaped like an ornate crest of coral, dangles from her ear, swaying gently as she moves. Around her throat, a thin silver chain glimmers faintly, a relic of another time—perhaps a reminder of a past she cannot forget, or a vow she still upholds.
The shipwreck groans as the tide pulls it apart, the once-mighty vessel now claimed by the sea. She kneels among the lost, her hands glowing as she offers one final mercy—a whisper of warmth to ease them into the afterlife. As she rises, her massive wings shudder and lift, scattering droplets of seawater into the wind, a final sign of her passing. The last soul fades into the glow of the storm, and she turns back toward the endless sea, knowing that there will always be another wreck, another lost soul calling out for grace.
She is neither vengeance nor salvation, only a quiet mercy that lingers in the tide.
