She Who Walks Between

A young Black woman stands at the edge of a forest where twilight meets starlight, cloaked in midnight blue robes that ripple like water. Her eyes are half-closed—not in sleep, but in vision. One hand reaches toward the trees, fingertips glowing faintly with golden sigils. The other hand extends behind her, disappearing into mist. Vines curl around her arms, blooming with ghost-white blossoms, each petal etched with ancient runes.

Above her head hovers a softly lit veil between worlds—on one side, constellations shift in real time; on the other, ancestral faces shimmer, watching in quiet blessing.