Neverwinter Forest you're so art deco,

sólhárr stood tall as rökkur approached, the shadow moving through the forest with a quiet efficiency that pleased him. the returned howl had guided him, and now, sólhárr met him with a firm nod, his golden eyes appraising the man as he dipped his head in respect.

follow me, sólhárr said simply, his voice steady but laced with purpose. without waiting for a response, he turned, his steps deliberate as he led rökkur deeper into the woods. the scent of pine and rich earth surrounded them, and the forest grew denser before giving way to a glen, hidden like a secret.

large trees encircled the space, their boughs thick and protective, yet the clearing itself was open to the sky. at its heart stood a boulder, encircled by blooming moonflowers that glowed faintly in the dim light, as if holding their own against the encroaching dark. the scene was serene yet powerful, the shrine of light cast upon the stone lending it an air of reverence.

sólhárr turned to rökkur, his gaze steady. this is a sacred place, he began, his tone carrying the weight of tradition. the moonflowers bloom here even when the seasons turn against them. they are a mark of strength, resilience, and beauty—a reminder of what forneskja stands for.