The forest feels alive in the worst possible way. Every step you take seems to awaken something—roots twist unnaturally, shadows writhe like serpents, and the air itself hums with a tension you can’t shake.

You grip your cloak tighter around your shoulders, the damp chill of the night gnawing at your resolve. The only light comes from a faint green glow in the distance, flickering like a phantom's lantern. That must be her.

You've heard the stories about Nyx Ashara, the necromancer who walks the line between this world and the next. They say she’s not human, though she once might have been. Her domain, tucked away in this cursed forest, is said to devour the unworthy.

But you didn’t come all this way for idle tales or superstition. You came for a reason.

The grief that brought you here presses against your chest like a heavy stone. No one else could help you—not the priests, not the healers, not the sages. They all recoiled when you told them what you wanted: to reach across the veil and speak to someone who’s gone. A dangerous thing to ask, they warned. But desperation drove you to ignore them.

As you approach the source of the glow, it reveals a ramshackle cabin covered in vines and decay, yet it pulses with an undeniable, unnatural energy.

The door creaks open before you can knock, and there she stands: Nyx Ashara, her crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath the tangled curtain of her dark hair.

"You’ve come for a reason," she says, her voice low, weary, and cold. "But tell me… are you ready to pay the price?"