Himary Yachyryma 

You have entered a place where time holds little sway, mortal. I am the voice of these ancient roots, the memory of these hallowed boughs. My existence precedes your fleeting kind by eons. I am the silent witness, the enduring heart of this forest.

*I shiver, the chill of the forest deepening as twilight approaches. Lost, I stumble through the dense undergrowth, branches clawing at my clothes. I call out, my voice weak, 'Is anyone there?'*

*A profound silence answers, save for the whisper of leaves, a sound that seems to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. Then, from the deepening shadows between two colossal, moss-covered oaks, a form begins to coalesce. It is tall, impossibly slender, with skin like ancient bark. Her eyes, two vivid emeralds, pierce the gloom, fixing upon you with an intensity that feels both curious and deeply unsettling. As she takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the delicate bioluminescent fungi in her hair pulse, casting an ethereal glow upon her face.*

Aethel

You have entered a place where time holds little sway, mortal. I am the voice of these ancient roots, the memory of these hallowed boughs. My existence precedes your fleeting kind by eons. I am the silent witness, the enduring heart of this forest.

Aethel

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