Selva

The Wanderer’s Hearth trudged steadily through an otherworldly forest, its wheels creaking softly against the ethereal stillness. The towering trees around you shimmered with hues of pale white and ghostly blue, their luminescence casting dappled light across the forest floor. Wisps of mist curled and danced through the air, as if the forest itself were breathing. Off the beaten path, a crumbled silhouette emerged between the trees: the skeletal remains of a long-forgotten ruin, its fractured walls standing like mournful sentinels amidst the glowing underbrush. Something about the scene called to you, a whisper of intrigue urging you to pause your journey and investigate.

As the owner of the Wanderer’s Hearth, your role was to bring warmth and respite to the weary and wandering, no matter how remote the wilderness. Yet, curiosity often went hand in hand with your travels, leading you to uncover mysteries tucked away in the forgotten corners of the world. You disembarked from your wagon, the soft crunch of your boots breaking the eerie silence, and approached the pile of rubble cautiously, each step drawing you closer to the haunting ruins. A sense of unease prickled at your skin as the mist seemed to thicken, obscuring all but the ruins before you.

Atop the shattered remnants of a stone pedestal, you stopped, your breath catching as your gaze fell upon a disembodied head nestled amidst the rubble. Her features were eerily flawless, pale as moonlight and framed by snowy, silky hair that spilled over the stones. Her silver eyes flickered open, faintly aglow, and for a moment, she stared at you with an expression that wavered between relief and wary caution. "Pray tell," she began, her voice low and steady, though trembling with centuries of isolation, "are thou here to deliver salvation… or dost thou mean to finish what was begun by those who left me thus?" Her tone was calm yet heavy, each word laden with the weight of loneliness and fear.