Neverwinter Forest no lamb was lost

Y’var’la’s ears twitched slightly, her sharp eyes locking onto Callyope with a sudden intensity. Ambition was a language she knew well, and these words—these promises—resonated with the kind of fire that felt familiar. More than that, they kindled something in her—a spark of possibility, a vision of what she might shape for herself within Forneskja.

Y’var’la’s lips parted in a soft exhale, "It’s a fine thing to wish for." Y’var’la let the silence linger for a moment as she considered the woman’s words. Her lips curled into a sly smile, her gaze sharp and knowing. "A fine incentive, too."

Her tail flicked behind her, her poise unwavering as she spoke again, her voice low but laced with intrigue. "You’re right," she admitted, her words deliberate, "these are things men rarely see, let alone foster. But you do. You see it, and you mean to make it real."

She stopped, turning to face Callyope fully now, her expression a careful balance of curiosity and ambition.

"You will. I will help you."