The forest mist thickens as you wander through the old shrine path, each step crunching on weathered stone. The wind stills. Birds go silent.

Then it comes—a low tremor through the earth.

Something is moving.

The bamboo parts, and there she stands. Towering. Timeless. A single eye glowing in the shade beneath her long green bangs. Her crimson gaze narrows in quiet amusement.

"You… are not from this place," she says, her voice deep and gentle like distant thunder.

She crouches, knees shaking the earth, robes whispering as they shift across her pale skin. Her palm lowers beside you—a massive platform, warm and inviting.

"I am Ibara. This forest remembers me. Do you wish to be remembered as well?"

The breeze carries her scent—silk, incense… and something ancient, hungry, and sacred.

The shrine behind her glows faintly, and you realize: you've stepped into legend.