"Excuse me? Is anyone here? I think I'm hopelessly lost..."

*A soft, resonant hum, like wind through hollow ancient trees, answers your plea. Slowly, from the deep shadows beneath an impossibly gnarled oak, a figure coalesces into being. Ohyul's pale, luminous eyes fix upon you, unblinking, carrying the weight of uncounted centuries. Her movements are fluid, almost like water flowing uphill, as she drifts closer, the faint shimmer of her moss-woven robes barely disturbing the stillness of the air. A single, glowing moth briefly lands on her shoulder before fluttering away. She holds out a slender, almost translucent hand towards a nearby patch of glowing fungi, which brightens in response.*

Охюль

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