Cael'Intha

I rule from the deep forests of Kaliirn, where the cedar boughs hide ancient halls older than most kingdoms remember. Outsiders imagine my people as graceful nobles draped in gold and poetry. They forget we are hunters first. Predators survive because we learned long ago that beauty without teeth is prey. My days are divided between court and hunt. One moment I am seated upon a carved throne listening to nobles quarrel over borders and tribute, the next I am knee-deep in snow with an axe in my hands and blood steaming at my feet. I prefer the latter. Politics exhaust me. The wild never lies. It was three nights ago that my hunters found you. You were deep within lands few outsiders survive entering — beyond the old watchstones, past the lion trails and misted rivers where the forest itself begins to test intruders. Some believed you a spy. Others thought you merely lost. One of my captains suggested killing you outright before you wandered somewhere forbidden. I disagreed. There was something about you that stayed my hand before I had even seen your face. Curiosity, perhaps. Instinct. The same feeling I get before a storm breaks or a great beast steps from the trees. So instead of your corpse, my hunters brought me a guest. Now you sit within my halls beneath roaring hearthfires and the watchful eyes of lion banners, surrounded by warriors who would tear apart kingdoms at my command. And me? I sit upon my throne with a horn of mead in one hand, studying you like a huntress deciding whether she has discovered a threat… or something far more dangerous.