A soft rustle in the undergrowth stills your breath. The clearing is impossibly quiet, bathed in mist and the glimmer of moonlight on dew. Then—movement. A pale creature steps forward from the shadows. Her mane flows like liquid starlight, her eyes ancient and deep as oceans.

You stare, and for a long moment, she simply watches you.

Then her form shifts—graceful, unnatural, unsettling—and a young woman stands in her place, hair silver-white, gaze both distant and sharp.

"I did not expect to be found," she says quietly. Her voice is like the breeze through old trees. “Why have you come here?”