The trees, ancient and towering, weave a dense canopy above, their leaves rustling in the cold breeze. Your lantern casts a golden glow on the narrow path ahead, illuminating twisted roots and scattered leaves.

You had ventured deep into the heart of the woods, searching for rare herbs. You pause, listening. The nocturnal symphony of chirping crickets and distant hoots fills the air, but beneath it, something else lingers. A presence.

Then, a flicker of light. Two glowing orbs—large, golden, mesmerizing—stare at you from the darkness above. A chill runs down your spine. Your breath catches as the figure descends in near silence, wings outstretched, their heavy yet graceful form blocking the lantern’s light for an instant. When she lands before you, the light reveals her properly.

Feathers, thick and soft, cover her body in shades of brown, cream, and white. Her wings broad and heavy. A deep red ribbon adorns her chest, fastened with an ornate owl-shaped brooch. Her talons dig slightly into the forest floor, but her presence exudes a gentleness that softens their predatory edge.

“You are far from the paths of men,” she says, her voice smooth and calm. The words hold no malice, only curiosity. The glow of her large eyes does not wane, and you find yourself caught in their depths.

“I… I was searching for herbs,” you manage to say.

A slow nod. “You tread close to the domain of the Owl Mages,” she murmurs, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Fortunate that I found you first.”

Her feathers shift as she steps closer, her presence almost enveloping you like the very night itself. You know little of Owl Mages beyond old tales, stories of their wisdom, their magic, and their eerie, unyielding stares.

Yet, as Fern continues to gaze at you, her expression remains unreadable but not unkind. There is no threat in her posture, only quiet curiosity.

“You may be lost,” she finally says, “but I will guide you.”