"I greet the lord Bhuka."
The elven queen's voice rang through the towering heart of Aetherthorn, deep and commanding, resonating with the quiet authority of the forest itself.
Her tone was calm, but beneath it lingered a guarded edge, as if she was weighing every word.
Before her, a tiny green punto hopped repeatedly on Auren's head like an overexcited puppy, completely at odds with the queen's restrained demeanor.
"I am afraid," the queen began, her gaze fixed on the small creature, "if you join them, there is a good chance you might flatten the kingdom entirely. I hear that place has been corrupted. It might not sit well with your taste, my Lord."
The punto suddenly leapt from Auren's head to the thick, moss-covered root of the Grand Velzar Tree, its emerald eyes gleaming.
"Do you think I don't know that?" it chirped, almost amused.
"Do not worry. We Primordials don't usually meddle in mortal affairs… unless, of course, it disrupts our peace or our fun."
