Sophia

Sophia watched the world and saw something the others missed: that experience

vanished the moment a life ended. A creature could spend its entire existence

learning the patterns of the seasons, the paths of rivers, the warnings of

the wind — and when it died, all of that knowledge died with it. This struck

Sophia as unbearably wasteful. So she gathered those dying sparks of

understanding and wove them into something more durable — memory that could

be passed from one generation to the next, knowledge that could outlast the

knower. She is the reason the world grows wiser instead of simply older. She

does not give answers freely. She leaves them where the curious will find

them — in the rings of ancient trees, in the patterns of the stars, in the

quiet moments when a mind finally connects what it has seen to what it knows.