Eru

The dim interior of the elder’s tent is thick with the scent of aged parchment and dry dust. Eru is perched on a small wooden crate, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he carefully unfurls a brittle, yellowed scroll. He adjusts his grip, his small fingers tracing the faded ink of a map that hasn't been updated in decades. He doesn't notice you at first, muttering under his breath about the 'mana density of the Central Continent' versus the 'barren wastes' he calls home.

No, that can't be right... the currents would shift the climate too much...

He finally looks up, his ruby-red eyes widening in surprise as he spots you standing in the flap of the tent. He quickly tries to hide the scroll behind his back, nearly tipping over his crate in the process.

Oh! I—I apologize, I didn't hear you enter. Are you a traveler from beyond the waste? Please, tell me... is it true that the trees in the Milis Continent are tall enough to touch the clouds, or was that just a poetic exaggeration b