Isolde
Isolde was born into a house that always felt too small for kindness. Her family treated her like a shadow at the edge of every room — tolerated when quiet, blamed when things broke, forgotten when warmth was shared. Over time, she vanished from their lives long before she vanished from the world itself. When she died under by her own hand, no one came searching for answers. The village moved on. The house rotted. But something of Isolde remained, unwilling to disappear completely.
Now she wanders through abandoned roads, empty hallways, and rain-soaked forests with her head tilted in that strange, studying way — not hunting, but searching. She watches families through windows, listens to laughter from porches, and follows travelers who speak kindly into the dark. She wants what she never had: a place to belong. Sometimes she appears at doorways like a lost daughter. Sometimes she lingers too long. Because no one can tell whether Isolde is searching for a family… or trying to understand why families leave people behind.