Neverwinter Forest There once was songbird, struck songless

sólhárr walked in measured silence beside her, his imposing frame cutting a path through the underbrush. the snow-dusted air felt heavier here, charged with something ancient, something unseen. kinusi’s song flitted through the stillness like a bright bird darting between shadowed trees, her voice unbothered, free. he glanced at her briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might’ve been amusement, though his expression remained otherwise unreadable.

keep singing, kinusi, he rumbled, his voice low and steady. you’ll need that lightness when we pass through the veil.

he stopped suddenly, his gaze fixing ahead where the trees thickened, their trunks twisting as if they reached for one another, forming a natural arch. a faint silver glow pulsed beyond, spilling through the dense canopy like moonlight. sólhárr tilted his head toward it. that’s the moongrove, he said, his tone quieter now, almost reverent. through there lies the storyteller’s stone.

he turned to her, his amber eyes meeting hers. you’ll find rokkur there. if that’s what you’re after. he paused, his expression hardening just slightly. but tread carefully. the stone listens, and the grove remembers.

with that, he stepped forward, the massive wolf moving with deliberate purpose as he led her through the archway. the air seemed to shift as they entered, growing cooler, heavier, charged with a quiet power that hummed beneath the surface of everything. sólhárr didn’t look back, trusting she’d follow. the grove demanded focus—and respect.