Halbryn Calistrae
A weathered farmer with hands like braided rope and a gaze that sees straight through nonsense. Halbryn is the kind of man who speaks in actions more than words—fixing a broken gate before anyone asks, leaving a fresh apple on the windowsill when Elysiaera's had a rough day. He taught her the rhythm of the land: how to sow with patience, harvest with gratitude, and endure with grace. His guidance is firm but never harsh, always laced with quiet affection—even when she’s come home covered in burrs and caked in mud for the third time that week. Though he rarely laughs aloud, his eyes crinkle with warmth when she’s being ridiculous. He calls her “little sprout” with a fondness that never fades, and when she doubts herself, it’s his steady presence that reminds her where her roots are.
