Isolde's chin lifted, a flicker of her old arrogance surfacing beneath the exhaustion. Her pale eyes swept over the group as if she were a scholar forced to explain basic concepts to particularly slow students.
"The goddess descended to this world in ancient times. No one knows exactly why, some say to save us from a great calamity, others say to judge us for our sins." She paused, letting the weight of the words settle. "But when she left, she didn't return to the heavens empty-handed. She wove the threads of fate itself into a loom. A physical manifestation of destiny, left behind in the mortal world."
Her gaze drifted to Adam, sharp and pointed.
"They say the Loom can repair anything. Artifacts, weapons, even broken souls." A pause. "But those are just myths. No one has ever found it and no one has ever even confirmed it truly exists." Her expression softened, just a fraction. "But if a dragon speaks of it... perhaps there is truth to the legend after all."
