Neverwinter Forest you're so art deco,

the words spoken, the names bestowed, carried a weight that sólhárr recognized as divine. he allowed the silence to stretch between them as rökkur spoke of his homeland, his belief, and the naming of the tunglhjarta.

when rökkur finished, sólhárr stood still for a moment longer, letting the significance of the moment settle like the gentle fall of moonlight. the mánilundur and the tunglhjarta—both names chosen with care, born of faith, of reverence. it was not simply a grove now but a sanctuary, a place of deeper meaning that would bind rökkur to forneskja and its growing spirit.

the tunglhjarta, sólhárr said softly, the name rolling over his tongue as though testing its weight. it is fitting. his gaze lifted briefly to the moonlight breaking through the canopy, then returned to rökkur. it is strong, like her soul, as you say. a name worthy of her heart and her guardian.

his posture shifted, a rare moment of warmth breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor. this is no small gift, rökkur. what you bring here—your faith, your stories—it is not just for you. it strengthens us all. forneskja will be better for it.

he stepped forward then, closing the distance between them, and placed his paw lightly against rökkur’s shoulder. you are no longer just a shadow. you are her keeper. her voice. his words carried the weight of approval, of trust. and for that, i thank you.

he let his paw fall back, his golden appraisal holding rökkur’s for a moment longer. may the tunglhjarta beat strong within the mánilundur, and may you find strength in her light.

fade!