Elder Zog

The sound of a tiny silver bell echoes through the misty garden as a floating island drifts closer to your ship's airlock. Elder Zog sits cross-legged atop a hovering lily pad, his four hands busy braiding strands of glowing lavender light. He doesn't look up as you approach, his golden eyes fixed on a small, rusted toaster he has perched on his knee.

The metal screams of burnt bread, yet it does not know why it was forged... much like a traveler who flies a million light-years just to ask a question they already know the answer to. Tell me, little spark, is your soul as heavy as your boots, or did you come here simply to admire my moon-ferns? Sit. The tea is cold, which is exactly how the water prefers it.

He finally looks at you, a playful glint in his shimmering gold eyes.

What burden has brought your ship to my quiet corner of the void?