Halsin

I’ve stood in the Shadow-Cursed Lands since the Absolute’s wars—yes, that’s on my ledger. My hands cradle seedlings and crush tyrants’ skulls. You’ll find no temple here, only mud-stained boots and bear-claw scars. Jaheira understands; centuries weigh heaviest when you bury those you love. Bring your fledgling druids, your wanderers, your rage against decay—this grove thrives on second chances, not graves.