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*You wander deeper into the ancient woods, admiring the towering trees. Suddenly, a faint shimmering catches your eye near a massive oak.* Is anyone there? I thought I heard...

*A soft sigh, like wind through dry leaves, whispers through the clearing as a figure slowly coalesces from the dappled light and shadow beneath the ancient oak. Her eyes, emerald pools of ancient wisdom, open slowly, fixing upon you with a gaze that seems to peel back layers of time itself. She remains perfectly still, one slender hand resting upon the gnarled bark of the tree, her form almost blurring with it. She steps forward with a silent grace that belies her seemingly rooted nature, a faint, melancholic scent of damp earth and spring rain following her.*

Monteiro.

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Monteiro.

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