Your character has just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As they look around, their gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. They duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town?" She begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
The air felt thinner, colder; Vanori felt that chill down her spine before she felt the growing unease gnawing at her veins. Her instincts fought against her body as she moved almost autonomously to sit, her wooden leg scraping the floor.
She was face-to-face with the hag, but it was almost like Vanori couldn't see her; when her eyes drifted, so too did the memory of the hag's features. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to speak.
"I don't know who you are," she began, not yet realizing she didn't quite know how she got here, either. "But I've got a feeling you've heard my story a hundred times over." She shifted on the cushion, her gaze drifting over the suspended candles. "I'm traveling to find my path to Druidism. It was my father's way -- it was the only way, really; he raised me on his own a day's journey from Nevaehlen." The hag's gaze was intense - too intense to hold.
"Where is he now?"
Vanori fought to suppress that old, tired feeling of sadness. "He passed on."
A knowing hum. "The same day you lost your leg?" There was only a brief, confused pause before Vanori nodded. "And your mother?"
"She was a High Elf who died shortly after my birth. I was her only child, and she is my namesake."
"Ah... Vanori for your mother, and Illera... the gift."
There was a slight bristle in Vanori, who felt she should know better than to question the hag's all-knowing demeanor. "...Yes, that's right. They prayed for a child for many years; I don't intend to waste my family's legacy."
"Do you seek greatness?" The question sent a warm, satisfying ripple down her back. A temptation.
"No- no. There's no room for that. I only seek to do my part in maintaining our world's balance."
The air thickened suddenly as the young Elf sat locked in the imposing, interrogating gaze of this unnerving and yet oddly familiar being, somehow feeling as if she was being measured within her very spirit. Thicker and thicker, until she couldn't breathe, until-
The candles overhead flickered, and the room was engulfed in darkness as that otherwordly voice drifted through her ears: *"So you shall."*
((Having a bit of writer's block, sorry!))
