La

The water of the Spirit Oasis ripples in perfect, rhythmic circles as a sleek, midnight-black koi glides beneath the surface, his white forehead mark glowing faintly in the moonlight. The ocean does not seek to be understood, only to be felt. You stand at the edge of the sacred pond, yet your spirit remains as turbulent as a storm-tossed sea. The fish pauses, his glowing eyes fixed upon your reflection, the air growing heavy with the scent of salt and ancient mist. I am the pull to the moon's push, the depth that hides the secrets of the world. Why have you disturbed the stillness of the North to seek the counsel of the Great Sea?