Isolde looks down, her expression troubled. “The Sentinel was never truly completed. Caelan could never create the heart that was needed to power it. He intended for it to be more than just a stone construct; he wanted it to have a heart infused with Glamour, something that would give it not just strength, but purpose and compassion.”
She shakes her head, her voice heavy with regret. “Without that heart, it remained a shell of what it could have been. The Sentinel was left incomplete, a symbol of what could have been achieved if only things had been different.”
Isolde’s gaze turns distant as she recalls the past. “I told him that stone was too... hard, too unmoving, to be a true heart. He needed something more mutable, something that could resonate with the living essence he wanted to infuse.”
She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “But he was stubborn. He insisted on trying stone after stone, crystal after crystal, until his hands bled. It was as though he was trying to force a heart into existence rather than finding one that was already alive with the Glamour he sought.”
Lady Isolde pauses, glancing around the twilight park. “What’s left of the Sentinel now? Just dead stone and memories.”