Neverwinter Forest manihost

it is true, then, sólhárr declared, the weight of conviction in his voice as he stepped closer, his frame looming yet warm in its presence. the gods will it.

his chest swelled with pride, the cold northern air sharpening his clarity. rökkur's words had confirmed what sólhárr already believed to be a divine decree. the gods spoke through him, yes, but here, through the sögumaðr as well, their intent was plain. it was not coincidence; it was guidance.

our faith binds us, rökkur. it binds us to our people, to máni, to the will of the gods. and now— he paused, gaze fixed like the first touch of sunlight upon frost, —it must bind our blood.

sólhárr's tone softened but lost none of its certainty. íruna carries the strength of máni’s voice. through her, and through you, the gods shall see forneskja rise ever higher. this union... it is right. it is holy.

he tilted his head slightly, studying rökkur. tell me, sögumaðr, he murmured. do you not feel the same echo in your heart?