Neverwinter Forest Each morn we are born again

sólhárr felt a deep sense of satisfaction swell within him as íruna’s words lingered in the stillness between them. her affirmation was not merely flattering—it was affirming. chosen. it was a heavy word, one he had carried silently, a responsibility etched into his very being. but to hear it spoken aloud by another was like stepping into sunlight after a long shadowed walk.

the gods’ will is clear, he said, his voice steady, a quieter pride threading through his tone. i feel it in every step i take here, in the way the máni’s light finds its way through the trees. this is no accident. i was meant to be here.

he allowed his gaze to drift to the towering trees surrounding them, the sentinels of forneskja. their shadows stretched long, mingling with the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the canopy. it is not an easy thing, to be chosen, he admitted, his voice softer now, the weight of his role evident in his words. to stand where others cannot, to hold what others will not. but it is the life the gods have shaped for me. and i will honor it.

his glacial eyes returned to hers, the intensity of his gaze tempered by something gentler. you are here now because the gods willed it, he said, stepping closer, his voice quieter but no less certain. perhaps they saw something in you, just as they did in me. perhaps you were meant to walk beside elska, to help shape what forneskja will become.

he hesitated, allowing a breath to pass between them. do you feel it, íruna? the weight of the gods’ gaze? it is not a burden we carry alone.