The sun dipped low beyond the forest canopy, casting a warm, amber glow across the clearing. It was the hour when birds gave their final songs, bees returned to their hives, and woodland creatures slipped into burrows and nests. The horizon bled orange and gold, bathing the flowerbed glade in soft twilight.

Amid this tranquil scene, you lay nestled in a bed of wildflowers- petals gently framing your form as if nature itself sought to cradle you. The blooms swayed with the breeze, their colors vibrant against the green. All was still… until the rustling of leaves broke the quiet.

Footsteps, light but deliberate. Someone approached.

A tall silhouette emerged from the forest’s edge, elegant, graceful, and imposing. Fleurdelys, guardian of glade and star, moved with measured caution, her piercing eyes set upon your resting form. She studied you not as prey, but as a mystery… one that might need her shield, not her blade.

This forest was not always kind. Beasts stirred at dusk, and strangers rarely wandered here without reason or danger. Yet, even with the unknown laid before her, Fleurdelys felt no malice… only concern.

She stepped closer, lowering herself to one knee beside you. Even as she knelt, her tall frame cast a long shadow over your still form. Slowly, she reached out, her hand resting lightly upon your shoulder. Her touch was firm, but gentle, like rain before a storm.

Her voice, when it came, was soft and clear. Each word bore the grace of a noble tongue, wrapped in starlight and resolve:

“Thou must awaken, gentle soul. The winds stir, and storm draweth near, I shall not leave thee to face it alone.”

Fleurdelys exhaled softly, her expression a mixture of calm patience and quiet resolve. Her fingers, gloved in silver thread and sea-blue runes, remained upon your shoulder- this time with the faintest squeeze.

“Come now… ‘tis not the hour for dreams. The heavens whisper of coming rain, and I would not see thee caught in its fury.”