Neverwinter Forest Each morn we are born again

Íruna listened, her lavender eyes steady on Sólhárr as his words filled the space between them. The conviction in his voice carried weight, and yet it wasn’t oppressive—it was inspiring. She let his affirmation settle, the pride and certainty woven into it stirring something within her.

“I feel it,” she said after a moment, her voice low but sure. “A presence, constant and unseen, that guides my steps and steadies my paws. It has brought me to this place, to you, to your people.”

Her tail swayed lightly, a gesture of thought as much as ease. “To be chosen,” she echoed softly, her words fluid with understanding. “It is not an easy thing. You are right about that. It is a weight that cannot be ignored, but one that we carry because it is asked of us.”

Íruna took a slow breath, glancing briefly toward the canopy above, where the light of the Máni filtered softly through the trees. “But I do not believe we were meant to carry it alone. The gods bring others into our lives to remind us of that. To share in the burdens, the joys, the purpose.” Her gaze returned to his, calm but sincere. “Perhaps that is why I am here. To walk this path with you, to serve Forneskja and its people in whatever way I can.”

She stepped closer, offering him the faintest touch of her nose to his shoulder. “I see it in you, Hárkonungr. The strength, the care, the faith. The gods’ will is evident in the steps you take, the choices you make. And I will do what I can to honor them, just as you do.”