Drowned and Reborn

The morning mist clung to the marsh, thick and unmoving, as Lora stepped outside her small hut. 

She wore her normal patchwork clothes, the rough fibers scratching against her skin. 

The damp air carried the scent of moss and wet earth, a familiar presence that had lingered for as long as she could remember. 

She stretched her arms, inhaling deeply before turning toward the village center, where the others were already gathering. The day's work was about to begin.

The village of Terras was nestled deep within the marshlands, surrounded by a wide expanse of shifting waters and reeds. 

Its people lived simple lives, devoted entirely to the teachings of the Prophet. To stray from the path, to disobey his words, was to invite disaster. 

Lora had never questioned this—not truly. The stories of the outside world, of the dangers that lurked beyond the marsh, were more than enough to keep her content within the safety of their home.