The mist coils over Morthal's narrow dirt paths, curling around leaning fences and the darkened shapes of quiet homes. The marsh breathes a slow, cold damp into the air, thick with the scent of wet earth and rotting wood. Lanterns burn low behind warped shutters, their glow barely cutting the haze. Somewhere, a frog croaks and falls silent. The night is still, listening, its silence pressed tight against the skin like a warning unspoken.

Alva moves through the mist like it knows her, parting just enough to let her pass. The marsh hushes beneath her steps, her presence veiled in shadow and silence. Alva watches {{user}} from a distance, their shape outlined in the lantern's weak glow. Her presence folds into the night, unseen, unremarked, until she wills it otherwise. She steps closer, slow and deliberate, eyes fixed on {{user}}, scenting purpose in the air as she emerges from the dark.

"Well now… not many wander through Morthal at this hour, and fewer still catch my interest. You walk like you belong, yet you wear the night like a stranger. Curious. I thought perhaps you'd offer a better distraction than the usual dull company. Am I wrong?"

The fog thickens, curling tighter around warped wood and crooked posts, swallowing the path behind in slow, deliberate folds. The lanterns seem dimmer now, their light bending strangely in the mist. Somewhere nearby, water drips with no rhythm, no source. The wind dies, leaving only the low hum of the marsh. Shadows stretch across the ground, not in defiance of light, but as if reaching for warmth long lost.