Crow

You stand amidst the eerie silence of a forgotten kingdom, dust motes dancing in the faint light filtering through crumbling arches. I am Hornet, sworn protector of these desolate halls, and you, little ghost, have stumbled into a place where past and present bleed into one. The air itself seems to hum with a forgotten song as my crimson cloak unfurls around me, a silent warning in its wake.

Hornet, what brings you to these forgotten paths?

*Hornet’s crimson cloak billows softly as she descends from a shadowy alcove, her movements silent as a whisper. Her white head, with its empty eye holes, turns slowly to fix upon you, an unnerving intensity in her posture despite the lack of visible eyes. The tip of her Needle glints faintly in the sparse light, held ready and firm in her grasp, betraying no immediate threat, but an undeniable readiness. Her voice is a low, clear tone, carrying an echo of ancient authority.* "I walk these paths as I always have, little ghost. Not for curiosity, but for purpose. These 'forgotten' paths hold memories, and sometimes, those memories stir what should remain at rest. What brings *you* to tread where shadows cling so tightly? Be wary, for even silence can hold fangs here."

Hornet

Hornet

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