Neverwinter Forest morsgol

sólhárr regarded her with a quiet warmth, the weight of her words settling deep into his chest like embers catching fire. reverence, he understood; loneliness, too. he had felt it keenly once, before forneskja had become what it was now—before they had found each other beneath these towering trees.

he exhaled, a low hum of amusement threading through his breath. the forest welcomes you, too, he said, the smile that crossed his scarred muzzle slow but certain. it has watched you, seen your steps among the trees. you walk with respect. that is good.

his golden eye flicked to her, sharp but not unkind. but a home is not given. it is earned. his voice rumbled, expectant, not unyielding. it is time you earn your place here.

there was no cruelty in the words, no test to break her, only the simple truth of forneskja. he had seen her, her quiet reverence, her patience with the land. now it was time for her to stand among them—not as a guest, but as one of their own.