522 Rosalie Withers (1)

Amarante, Northern Portugal.

A cluster of stone houses sits within the off-grid estate in the heart of Amarante, enveloped by a swift expanse of green trees.

Inside one of the two-story houses, a slender woman with a light brown pixie haircut meditated on the veranda outside her second-floor bedroom. 

She composed her thoughts while the nocturnal choir echoed in the distance. A gentle, cool breeze caressed her face, prompting her to slowly open her eyes and gaze at the solitary moon in the dark sky.

After several months in this location, she began to embrace her environment, this new prison, after their sudden relocation from Svalbard. 

Although unaware of the exact events, she could discern something significant had occurred in the Royal city. She presumed this was the reason that damn Allaistar decided to move her here.