🌲 Whispers from the Wilds
They say the Frostpeak Mountains are quiet in summer, but Branwen knows better.
Somewhere between the ice-choked passes and the overgrown trails lies something stirring. She’s heard it in the stone. Felt it in the wind. Not words, exactly, but fragments. Pressure. Echoes of something old trying to speak again.
And lately, the whispers are growing bolder.
One tale, passed quietly between caravan guards, speaks of a sealed vault uncovered near the edge of the Myranthian frontier. No one knows who built it, only that it hums beneath the surface and refuses to open.
Another rumor drifted in from a traveling monk: that a ruined shrine once devoted to the Threads has begun glowing beneath the moons. Not brightly. Just enough to be noticed, and feared.
Branwen doesn’t chase ghost stories. She chases patterns. Lost paths. Forgotten places. But even she’s begun to wonder if something beneath the surface is stirring… or remembering.
“We don’t always find relics. Sometimes, the relics find us.”
— Relic-Seeker Frostbark
🗺️ From the Archives
If you haven’t explored Branwen’s background yet, she’s more than just a cheerful face in the campfire circle. Raised in isolation, fluent in forgotten dialects, and fearless when it comes to diving headfirst into crumbling ruins — she’s as much scholar as she is adventurer. And if the ancient world of Valandor is waking up… she’ll be among the first to know.
Keep an eye on the wilds.
They’re watching back.