If Vannah Sterling had a motto, it might be: “Be the reason someone believes in good people.”
One evening, Vannah stood at the riverbank, watching the moon reflect off the water. A strange ripple formed, not from wind but from something moving beneath the surface. It coalesced into a shape—an elongated silhouette, darker than night, eyes like twin pits of void. It rose slowly, a silent specter, and whispered in a voice that seemed to echo from the depths of the earth: vannah sterling