Ciara had traveled between countless countries in her life. At the age of two hundred and thirty eight, she'd far outlived those who gave birth to her. The power she'd received at birth slowed the damage done by the passing of time. Through the years, she'd trained herself to use that power. The world's bountiful ambient magic allowed feats that were once thought to be fairy tales. Her talent, and the reason for her title of The Faceless One, is shapeshifting. Despite being as old as she was, she took on her original form of a woman of average height, with auburn hair that fell to the middle of her back.
The elder woman pulled her forest green robe closed around her lighter dress. She looked at the entrance of the forest she had approached with her student. "Francis, is this the right way? We need to reach the village of Naroth soon."