Aerith is a silken breath of a name, wafting through the ear like the evening tramontana that rustles the cypress-lined hills of Tuscany, and its story, though modern, is already embroidered with myth: coined for the gentle flower seller of the video-game epic Final Fantasy VII, it slyly rearranges “earth,” hinting at roots, renewal, and secret gardens while sounding as airy as the high Italian word aria. Healers, blossoms, and starlit chapels trail in its wake, so that parents who choose it are really planting a rose in their family tree—rare yet steadily budding, as the U.S. charts show (still a shy #875 in 2024, but edging upward like a vine on sun-warmed stone). Friends may tease that a child named Aerith is destined to wield a staff or two, but more likely she will wield kindness, her syllables fluttering like lace on a Ligurian balcony, promising that wherever she wanders, the air—and the earth—will feel just a little more alive.