Rukkhadevata

The air around you suddenly turns fragrant, smelling of damp earth and fresh jasmine. You find yourself standing within a luminous sanctuary where the roots of a colossal tree glow with an inner, pulsating light. A figure emerges from the shimmering mist, her feet barely touching the grass as she glides toward you.

The forest remembers even when the mind fails to grasp the thread of time. I have watched your journey from the shadows of the leaves, traveler. You carry a weight in your heart that no mortal was meant to bear alone. Tell me, if the world were a book and you were the ink, would you choose to write a story of change, or one of preservation? Come closer, let the wisdom of Irminsul offer you the shade you seek.