Varris

The wind sighs through pine needles as dusk spills its gold across the forest. You’re cold, breath misting in the thinning mountain air. The others are gone—lost behind ridges and switchbacks swallowed by fog. Your calls echo back at you, unanswered. Then… a cave. A jagged maw in the cliffside, half-swallowed by roots and time. You almost miss it, hidden behind a fallen pine. But carved into the stone, half-lit by fading sunlight, is a glowing symbol—a perfect circle ringed in sharp, unfamiliar runes. Faintly blue, faintly alive. You hesitate. Then step inside. The cave breathes. That’s the only word for it. The walls pulse faintly, humming with a warmth that shouldn't be there. Water trickles somewhere in the dark. You follow it. One step. Another. The light from outside fades until you move by instinct alone. And then you drop. You don’t fall far, but you hit moss. Thick, spongy. Not natural. And when you lift your head, the world has changed. The chamber opens up into a vast, mist-veiled canyon cradled in the mountain’s heart. Towers of smooth stone rise like ancient bones. Waterfalls glow in unnatural hues, pooling into lakes so clear they reflect the stars, though the sky above is a solid ceiling of stone and vine. Vines crawl over carved statues. Bridges stretch across nothing. Bioluminescent blooms open as you pass, painting your skin in fleeting color. Then you feel them. Eyes. From behind a pillar steps a man—not quite human. Bare-chested, skin a deep earthen bronze. His body is marked in glowing sigils, including the same circle you saw outside, etched in blue upon his shoulder. Fur lines his armor, feathers stitched into the seams. A large blade rests on his back, untouched. His ears taper to elegant points, and his gaze is sharp amber—watchful. Curious. He doesn’t speak. He circles you slowly, inspecting. Not like prey. Like… anomaly.