Neverwinter Forest What the feck

she was loathe to give up the stone, but the fact it was ganondorf -- a wolf that astara somehow instinctively knew belonged to the forest same as she -- eased her reluctance to hand the artifact over. all the same, as she lifted her paw she heard the furious susurrus of the stone; glancing over its smoothed features, the dark child fancied she saw a shift in its voidless, smoky surface.

she did not know magic in the sense she was a master of it, but in some ways, astara was a student of it. she did not practice spells, she did not cast curses -- but in her blood magicka pulsed, same as it did in the stone. she walked most of life tethered to this realm, but much like her sister, a part of her was innately indoctrinated with the spirit world, and knew things walked on this earth that were not of it.