Blackfeather Woods my mind is filled with cataclysm and apocalypse

There is no woman of age to birth a child, nor would one as old as he go unnoticed for so long. He must then be a foundling, someone brought into the fold by a member of the Woods. His pelt, like many of those who enter, is of earth and soil rather than the darkness, ash, and snow so many of the Wood's born or longstanding inhabitants are shrouded in. He is young, younger than her own children, and yet moves with a confidence assured of someone much older. She wonders who he is and who brought him in and how he got here. She prays that his disappearance has not yet been linked to the Woods, not when they were so weak.

He gives his name as Kahlil, or Kahl, but whether that is a name given to him by the Woods or from his home is uncertain, and overall unnecessary. She will call him Kahl. I am Potema Melonii. I am the priestess here, and once I held the title of Listener, She is out of favor with her brother Damien for now, but so is Cicero. Neither have ascended to the Dark Council. Instead, Nemesis' wayward daughter, Nyx, takes the mantle of Speaker, a job best suited for her other brother, no matter how mad he may be. Or perhaps even her own son Vaati.

His words come as a surprise to her. Beautiful? I've never heard them be called that, She smirks in half amused confusion, wondering what exactly about her scars intrigued him so much. He steps forward to see them better, but Potema holds her ground, waiting.