Neverwinter Forest There once was songbird, struck songless

sólhárr watched her in silence, his single amber eye fixed on the way she moved, the way her words shaped the air around them. there was something otherworldly in her presence, in how she twisted the mundane into something alive and breathing.

your father, he rumbled, his voice heavy with both admiration and certainty, taught you well.

he stepped closer, his massive form casting a shadow over her lithe one, though his stance was not imposing. instead, there was an air of reverence in how he regarded her, as though she had just revealed a piece of something sacred.

you don’t just tell a story, kinusi, he said, his tone lower now, as though speaking too loudly might disturb the moment. you become it. you make it real. your words—they dance.

he paused, taking in the way her paws had shaped shadows on the forest floor, the way her voice had laced itself into the very trees.

that is a gift, he continued, solemn and deliberate. and one that must be honored.

his gaze softened, a rare thing for him, and his tail gave a faint sway, the closest he came to a gesture of approval. you will learn much here. but already, i see you have much to teach. you speak with rökkur, sögumaðr—keeper of our stories, and he will be more than happy to learn and teach as well.