THE EXILE
There is a tower outside our world, on a barren plain, under an empty sky. And there, she … exists. Ageless, she never counts the slow years passing; remembering no time before, she never feels her own heart breaking.
Until:
Pure notes of music shatter her isolation. The harpist is small, bent, unheroic, as ugly as a bear. No matter. Something moves within her heart, as — tremulous — ecstatic — she runs down the stairs to meet him.