Neverwinter Forest Each morn we are born again

sólhárr stepped closer, his presence steady, a towering yet calming force amid the dappled light. his gaze lingered on the yarrow she had gathered before shifting upward to follow hers, drawn to the patterns of light and shadow the máni cast through the canopy.

the gods are never wrong, he murmured, the certainty in his voice a grounding truth. if they bid you look closer, then there is something they wish you to see. something that cannot be ignored.

he crouched slightly, lowering his muzzle to better examine the herbs she held. i can help you, if you would allow it, he offered, his glacial eyes returning to meet her lavender gaze. the gods chose you to hear their whispers, and they chose me to guide this land. together, perhaps, we find what they ask of us.

sólhárr paused, thoughtful, his voice taking on a contemplative note. your visions—they linger, do they not? like the wind that stirs the trees, unseen but felt. i wonder... do they guide you to something here in forneskja, or do they call you beyond?