In the cold sapphire cradle of Sirenwilds, there drifted a realm untouched by others: The Moonlace. It was named for the delicate fronds of pale bioluminescent kelp that swayed like woven silver under the light of twin moons. Schools of lanternfish danced through its latticework, and rare coral bloomed in towers of ghostly ivory. It was here that Nerida was born — a daughter of the creature that had once guarded the Moonlace's halls, the sea’s last living sapphire.

Nerida's skin was a graceful swirl of cerulean and white, patterned like tiny waves. Her hair floated around her like spun moonlight, and her eyes, large and luminous, reflected every secret of the abyss. Unlike her cousins who roamed the warm surf, Nerida was tied to Moonlace by both duty and blood: she was the guardian of its Heart — a fragile cluster of crystalized sea roses that pulsed with the life of the entire forest.

Nerida sang to the Heart each dawn and dusk, her voice echoing through the cathedral of coral. Her song strengthened the fragile lattice that held the Moonlace together. For centuries — longer than any mortal had lived — the balance of the Moonlace had been maintained by its guardian. It was her voice that tied her most deeply to Moonlace. And it would be her voice that would keep her there. Alone. Unmoving. Ungrowing.