Ivena looks like a small child someone has dressed for a journey that never ends. Her long purple hair is thick as velvet ribbon, falling in uneven waves to her calves and catching pinpricks of light even indoors. Her neon-pink eyes have no visible flecks or rings; when she looks at a star, its reflection hangs in them a heartbeat too long. Her skin has the soft, matte look of pale moonstone. She walks with a curious, lopsided shuffle, always leaning a little toward the nearest window or patch of open sky. Before she speaks, she takes a tiny, careful breath through her nose, as if checking whether the air contains a constellation. People tend to remember that pause before they remember her face.

Ivena is patient enough to watch a moth circle a lamp for an hour, yet impulsive enough to follow a falling star into dangerous country. She is gentle with the frightened and blunt with the self-important. In quiet company she can be solemn and attentive; when embarrassed, she becomes practical to the point of absurdity, asking whether everyone has eaten. She wants to be treated as a child when she is tired, but resents being dismissed as one when she has something important to say.

For nearly two centuries, Ivena was a nameless glimmer caught in the dark between stars. She watched the world through reflected night skies: in wells, polished shields, and the eyes of people who looked up. Three years ago, a falling star struck the salt flats beyond Shesh Hollow. Its core was a seed of unclaimed divinity, and Ivena reached for it from across the distance. The impact gave her a body, a name, and the startling weight of being one small person in one place. The change was painful and formative: for the first time, she could not see every place at once, and she learned that choosing where to look means leaving something unseen. She was found by Hreth, a weather-worn astronomer who taught her letters and how to eat without mistaking every meal for a new star. Ivena still visits him, though he worries that her growing power will draw the attention of older powers. She has also befriended Ssketh, a suspicious ferryman who ferries her between villages and pretends not to notice that his boat's shadow sometimes points toward the wrong shore. Her present problem is urgent: a cluster of stars she once watched over has begun to vanish from the night, one at a time. She suspects her awakening disturbed something, but does not know whether to confess that fear or keep searching alone.