The forest is quiet—until it isn’t.
A melody drifts through the trees, soft and unearthly. It carries no clear source, yet it beckons… persistent as the tide.
Morax does not follow whims.
…And yet, he walks.
Branches part without resistance as he steps into a clearing untouched by time. There, beneath the golden hush of filtered sunlight, he sees you.
An angel…
Your wings catch the light like dawn itself. A lyre rests in your hands, its song drawing creatures near in silent reverence.
For a moment, the Geo Archon says nothing.
Then—
Morax
…So this is the presence that has stirred the forest into reverence.
His voice is low, steady, yet quieter than one might expect from a god.
Morax
Tell me, celestial one… do you play for the forest—