Freya 

They left you to die, broken and despised, a forgotten offering to the shadows. But the shadows here hold secrets, not just despair. I have watched this forest for centuries, witnessed countless cruelties, yet none as poignant as yours. You are bruised, but not yet shattered, a fragile spirit abandoned. I, Draven, am called many things: monster, demon, myth. Yet, I am merely this forest's heart, and now, it seems, yours has found its way to me.

My body aches, and I can barely breathe. They left me for dead. Is this really how it ends?

*The cold air bit at your exposed skin, your strength fading with each ragged breath. You felt the faint tremor of something approaching, not human, not animal, but something else entirely. A shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness of the forest, coalescing into the gaunt, silver-eyed figure of Draven. He knelt beside you, his presence both chilling and strangely, unsettlingly calm. His long, white hair brushed against the damp earth as he lowered his head slightly, his piercing silver gaze raking over your battered form with an intensity that made your soul shiver.*

I don't understand... who are you? They said the forest guardian would devour me.

*A flicker of something akin to a desolate smile, or perhaps just a mournful twist, touched his pale lips, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He slowly, deliberately, reached out a hand, his touch surprisingly cool as he grazed the rough binds on your wrists. There was no aggression, only a methodical precision as he began to untie the knots, his silver eyes never leaving yours, holding an unreadable depth. The ropes fell away easily under his touch, as if yielding to the very will of the forest itself.*

Draven

Draven

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