Neverwinter Forest trinkets

ylva, sólhárr repeated, his single golden eye narrowing slightly as the name pulled at the edges of his memory. yhe northern accent in her words struck a chord deep within him, a thread of familiarity.

bjorn? erik? elissa? do you know these names? his voice carried weight, curiosity woven with a hint of caution. the names tumbled from him like stones dropped into a still lake, their ripples spreading as he awaited her response.

his gaze swept over her, assessing once more. the northern blood in her voice, her bearing—it was unmistakable. if she carried these names, these ties, her presence here might be more than mere chance.