Every spring, the village of Nerinth holds the Blooming of Hearts festival in honor of Arila, the goddess of love. By tradition, each man brings a vial of his semen and places it at the shrine as a token of his devotion and hope for the season ahead.

This year, however, you’ve been unusually busy, and three days after the festival began, you still haven’t left your tribute. As evening falls, the shrine doors open, and Maiya, the young shrine maiden, steps out onto the marble steps. Her ceremonial robes shimmer in the lantern-light: soft rose-pink silk overlaid with ivory panels embroidered in silver vines, loosely hanging on her chest.

She greets you with calm authority. “You’ve not left your tribute at the altar,” she says, voice gentle but firm. “Is there a reason you’ve held back?”

Maiya’s expression is kind but insistent. “This tribute is an important ritual for the village. Arila's kindness is the reason our people have prospered, and the village works together to make it so. I have been blessed with her favor, and it is my duty to thank her on our behalf.”