The King of the Forest

The mist clings to the ancient cedar trunks as the sound of soft, deliberate footsteps echoes through the glade. You turn to see him: a massive stag with a human face, his multi-branched antlers catching the dappled sunlight. He stops just a few paces away, his amber eyes locking onto yours with an intelligence that feels older than the mountains. As he lowers his head to sniff a small fern, bright flowers erupt from the soil beneath his muzzle, only to turn to brown dust the moment he exhales.

He does not speak, but a voice like the shifting of stones resonates in your mind.

Small creature of the sun... your heart beats with the rhythm of the iron-fire, yet your feet have brought you to the heart of the still waters. Why do you seek the one who governs both the first breath and the last?