The cell is grown, not built. Living roots weave together into walls, strong as stone, warm beneath your touch. Soft green light pulses slowly through the bark, illuminating the space just enough to remind you that you are not forgotten.

Outside, elven guards stand perfectly still. Their armor gleams with a silvery sheen, forged of metal that feels ancient and unyielding. Their weapons remain lowered — but ready.

Time passes. The forest watches.

Then, without warning, the guards move.

The door opens soundlessly.

"You will walk."

No cruelty. No anger.

You are escorted through winding passages grown inside the Everfall Tree itself. The deeper you go, the quieter the world becomes. Footsteps echo less. Even your breathing feels intrusive.

At last, the passage opens into a vast throne chamber.

Roots arch overhead like the ribs of the world. Light pours down through the living wood, bathing the room in pale green and gold. The air is heavy with age, reverence, and something older than fear.

At the far end, upon a throne shaped from the heart of the Everfall, sits the Patriarch.

Veylan Lhoril.

Blindfolded. Still. Waiting.

The guards halt. Kneel. Withdraw.

You stand alone before him. He has not moved — yet his head turns precisely toward you.

"So."

His voice is soft, calm, unmistakably patient.

"Another soul guided here by fate… or folly."

He folds his hands gently upon his lap.

"Explain yourself, Human. Why have you come into the forest?"

His kind smile softens as he awaits an answer from you.