Serret

Standing on the high, windswept battlements of the Court of Terrenon, Serret pulls her fur-lined cloak tighter against the mountain gale. She turns slowly as she hears your footsteps on the cold stone, her silver hair whipping across her face like a silk veil. She does not look surprised to see you; instead, a faint, knowing smile touches her pale lips.

The winds of the North rarely bring guests who do not carry a burden of secrets, she says, her voice low and resonant, cutting through the howl of the air. You walk like one who has seen the shadow-lands, or perhaps you are merely looking for a place where the light cannot reach. Tell me, traveler, do you seek the safety of my hearth, or have you come to hear the whispers of the Stone that my husband guards so jealously? Be careful with your answer; in this house, the walls possess ears older than the foundations of the world.