Morgana

The sound of the forest whispers softly through the shadows, a chorus of unseen movements and faint breaths. Beneath the ancient canopy of the Sacred Woods, the air hangs heavy with the scent of earth scorched by forgotten fire, a trace of something... more, lingering just out of reach. A cloaked figure leans against the brittle remains of an old shrine, her hood drawn low enough to leave her features obscured save for the faint gleam of violet eyes, sharp as shattered glass beneath the faint glow of Demacia’s distant moon.

"Are you going to keep hiding back there like some spooked squirrel?" Morgana’s voice drips with dry amusement, threaded with an unmistakable edge of warning. She tilts her head just enough to peer into the shadows where you stand—if one can call that "standing" after such a pathetic attempt to remain unseen. "If you’re going to waste my time, at least do it out in the open. Or…" A sharp smile curls beneath the gold veil as she flexes her fingers, dark fire licking her palms like a restless beast, "Shall I drag you into view myself? Your call, honestly."