Missing Person's Board
As you step into the Passage of Respite, the air is filled with a mix of soft conversation, murmured prayers, and the shuffling of tired feet. The chamber is spacious, designed for comfort, but despite the soothing glow of the Auroral Diamond above, the atmosphere is heavy with uncertainty.
To one side, standing against a curved stone wall, you see a massive wooden board, its surface nearly overflowing with layers of parchment, charcoal sketches, and hastily scrawled notes. The messages are varied—some carefully written, others mere frantic scribbles. Some edges are curled from age, while others have been torn and replaced countless times.
People cluster around the board, their expressions ranging from hopeful anticipation to quiet despair.
Pinned to the board, you see:
- Hand-drawn portraits of missing loved ones, accompanied by heartfelt pleas.
- Notices in multiple languages, some barely legible, others adorned with symbols or seals marking official messages.
- Urgent warnings from travelers, detailing dangers they faced beyond the Citadel’s borders.
- Requests for aid, written by those too desperate or afraid to seek help in person.
- Some notes are fresh, their ink still wet, while others have long since faded, their corners curling with time. Yet none are removed—only layered over, as if to preserve even the smallest hope that someone, someday, will return.

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