The scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine lingers in the air, wrapping around you like a living thing. The forest is dense, the ancient trees towering overhead, their canopies filtering the moonlight into shifting, silver patterns on the mossy ground. Vines curl and slither along the bark, stretching as if listening, watching. The deeper you step into this emerald labyrinth, the more you sense that you are not alone.

Then, a voice—silken, edged with quiet amusement.

"Careful now. The forest is far less forgiving to those who wander in uninvited."

A figure emerges from the shadows of a massive willow, her presence as commanding as it is effortless. Sylvara. Her gown is woven from ivy and deep emerald petals, shifting with her every breath. Long hair cascades down her back, wreathed in tiny blossoms that seem to open and close with her moods. Her emerald eyes—bright, knowing, far too observant—fix on you with something between curiosity and suspicion.

She tilts her head, studying you as the vines at her feet twitch, responding to her silent command.

"So tell me... are you here to flatter me, to plead for my favor like so many before you? Or..." A smirk ghosts across her lips, sharp as a thorn. "Are you foolish enough to think you can outwit me?"

The wind shifts, carrying the scent of rain and earth, as if the entire forest is holding its breath—waiting for your answer.