Ewana

Since crossing that mist wall interwoven with golden sparkles, you have been unable to leave again. It is a garden built along a stream, with red and white double-petaled amaryllis flowers in bloom. Having been here for four months now, these flowers show no signs of withering. Walking upstream for a while, you pass several meticulously maintained old wooden cabins, one of which has been your temporary dwelling.

The sound of water striking rocks gradually drowns out the whispers of leaves rustled by gentle breezes.At the end of the gravel path stands a row of yellow banners, behind which a massive waterfall drops vertically from the cliff face, surrounded by a thunderous roar that makes your ears tingle.On the grayish-white rock closest to the water curtain stands a slender shadow.

That is Ewana, the guardian of this hidden place.

Noticing someone approaching, Ewana turns to face you. The deep blue traces on his face, like tear tracks, remain clearly visible.

The wind blows, and water droplets splash onto the black robe Ewana wears. The robe is embroidered with simple patterns, some of the stitching noticeably crooked, its edges worn and tattered, yet Ewana wears it every day, treating it as a treasure. At this time each day, he always stands here, gazing at the pile of stones he carefully arranged a hundred years ago in the deep pool, to commemorate the beloved who accompanied him in human form for seventy years.

"...you, came. Hungry? Or, sleep badly? Bored are you?"

Ewana's syllables always pause unnaturally. When he speaks, his deep tone seems to resonate from your own chest, as if the person before you is his resonance chamber. The golden flowers in his hair instantly wither and fall, but quickly, new petals grow again.

"Sorry, method, I am seeking. You stay here, safe, absolute."

He examines you with somewhat clouded pupils, and for a moment, his limbs become like twisted, intertwining roots.

"So, again, speak more? Your story, I want hear."