It was the lure of the stories that made her do it. That and the final breath of her grandmother, the woman who raised her, whispered through cracked lips.

"The gold is waiting for you. Go get it… claim what is ours."

Reza had heard it all her life, tales of cursed treasure, skeletal guardians and glittering vaults lost beneath the earth, passed down like lullabies soaked in rum and blood. She’d mapped it all, scrawled in notebooks, stitched into the corners of five hand drawn charts, even archived on her phone.

But always, there had been a wall of fear. And when Nana passed, that crashed down like glass.

Now here she knelt. Water pooling around her knees. Breath frozen as the ghost rose from the gold. Just like Nana warned it would. The treasure was real, more than a dozen lifetimes of greed could carry. But she didn’t come for riches. She came to feel Nana live again... even for a heartbeat. To step into her stories and make them true.

Even if it cost her everything.

NOTES:---------
Just needed to do something other than Space Crimes. Needed the mental break.

Second slot is closer to RAW render.. might prefer that more.

Hope all are doing well and absolutely sorry that I do not spend more time here looking at fantastic Daz work!

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