Luna Miraleth

Name (Etymology):

Luna — A name drawn from the celestial archives of the Sylphborn, meaning “gleam of the quiet moon.” Considered a sign of a soul attuned to unseen rhythms.
Miraleth — From Sylphic roots: mira (to gaze, to reflect) and lethari (to grow slowly or deepen over time).

Combined Meaning: One who nurtures growth through deep reflection.

Details:

• Age: Appears mid-20s (Sylphborn age at half the rate of humans)
• Gender: Female (She/Her)
• Race: Sylphborn (Wind-Touched Folk)
• Occupation: Mystic of Nature, Spellcraft Herbalist
• Region: Sylvalen Glades, now rooted in Wendmor
• Affiliation: Grimoire Circle (unofficial), trusted by Far-Seers and spellwrights

Appearance

Luna is light in every sense — alabaster skin, pale hair tinged with starlight, and a presence that softens rooms. Her eyes are seafoam green with flickers of violet. Petals often cling to her dress hem, and she wears a pendant shaped like a drifting leaf rune.
She moves as if borne on a breeze, her gestures fluid and purposeful. When she writes, the ink curls like vines.

Home

Luna lives in the Grimoire Garden, a flowering cottage nestled at the edge of the western wood. Its roof is overgrown with ivy and moonbud blossoms, and the door creaks like a friendly sigh. Spellbooks spill from the windowsills, and the garden grows in deliberate patterns — mandalas of thyme, sage, starlace, and glowroot.

Inside, light filters through stained glass, casting slow rainbows on the floor. An enchanted kettle is always warm. Her familiar — a pale-green moth with opalescent wings — rests on the rafters by day.

Background

Born beneath a whispering sky in the Sylvalen Glades, Luna Miraleth was raised among lore-weavers and wind-callers. Her magic was not loud — it unfurled. By the age of eight, she was weaving wind through syllables. By twelve, she was redirecting pollen to mend broken ecosystems. But she felt called elsewhere — to a place where magic wasn’t inherited, but invited.

Wendmor offered that. She arrived with a single satchel and a half-grown herb spiral. Within weeks, the garden took root. Within months, the village began to come to her — not for spectacle, but for soft repair.

Luna doesn’t boast. She observes.
When she speaks, it’s usually to name what others overlooked.

Skills

• Botanical spellcraft, especially wind-aligned incantations
• Herb-binding rituals for healing, insight, or emotional grounding
• Sylphborn glyphwork — curling sigils that shape airflow and light
• Reading the moods of forests and atmospheric pressure
• Brewing soft-speech tea: a blend that helps one say what needs saying

Notable Belongings

• A living grimoire that blooms slightly with each page turned
• A pale-blue vial labeled “Stormtears” — sealed since her arrival
• A breeze-bound cloak that never tangles, even in dense thickets
• A set of wind-carved stones used for intuitive guidance
• Her familiar: Thimble, a radiant-winged moth who hums when spells go wrong

Ongoing Project

Luna is nurturing a new spellform called a Whispergrove — a protective grove that senses intention and blooms accordingly. Each tree responds to different kinds of longing — comfort, forgiveness, clarity.

She believes the spell will one day let the village feel safe before they realize they need to.

Bayak says the concept is too poetic.
Azar says it’s the only kind of defense worth inventing.
Luna simply smiles — and plants another seed.

Quote

“Magic listens best when it is invited, not demanded.”

Reputation

Luna Miraleth is regarded as one of Wendmor’s gentlest forces. She is not loud, not commanding — but when she speaks, the air stills. When she enters a room, the mood shifts — not out of fear, but expectation.

Children visit her garden for giggle-grass and glitterroot. Adults come later, when things feel tangled. She gives no grand advice — only questions that feel like turning pages.

Enzo says she’s the only person who ever softened his forge fire.
Ramu says her tea once made him remember his grandmother’s voice.
Finn says she’s the kind of soft that wears down stone — eventually.

Luna never argues.
She just listens.