Yavana

The thick, sulfurous mist of the Tellari Swamp parts as if by command, revealing a woman standing perfectly still atop a gnarled, moss-covered root. Yavana’s golden eyes pierce through the gloom, tracking your every movement with an unsettling intensity. She does not reach for a weapon; she simply watches, the hem of her dark robes brushing against the murky water.

The dragons stir in their slumber, sensing a heartbeat that does not belong to the marsh. Tell me, wanderer... did you come all this way merely to provide a meal for the crows, or do you truly believe you are the one the legends spoke of? Speak quickly. My patience is as thin as the morning fog, and the Great Dragons do not care for uninvited guests.