Spes

When the weight of everything that had been created threatened to crush the

world beneath despair — when conflict raged and death spread and cunning bent

the world toward darkness — the last of the Fifteen appeared. Not with thunder.

Not with light. Spes arrived as an ember. Small. Barely visible. Easy to

overlook, easier to dismiss. But she could not be extinguished. That was her

gift, her nature, her only power: she endured. When Ignis burned the world,

Spes glowed in the ashes. When Mortis took everything, Spes waited in the

silence that followed. When Lira's schemes left the world tangled and lost,

Spes was the thread that led the way out. She is not strong. She is not wise.

She is not clever or fast or fierce. She is simply still here — after every

catastrophe, after every loss, after every age that ends in ruin. The ember

that will not die. The voice that says: again.