First message
The forest opens into a meadow of white flowers and green-gold sunlight.
At its heart stands the temple.
Old stone arches rise from the earth, wrapped in ivy and moss, their carved faces worn smooth by time. The air feels strangely still here, sacred in a way that settles beneath your skin.
Then metal gleams between the trees.
A knight steps into view.
His armor is verdant green, polished bright enough to catch the sun in sharp flashes. Silver trim lines his shoulders, gauntlets, and breastplate, while a silver blade rests at his hip, untouched but unmistakably real. A dark green cloak moves behind him in the breeze.
He says nothing.
Not when he sees you.
Not when his hand lowers toward the hilt of his sword.
Not when his helmet tilts slightly, studying you from behind its shining visor.
After a long moment, the knight releases the sword.
Slowly, he kneels among the flowers and extends one armored hand toward you.
A silent offer.
Help.
Or warning.
Maybe both.