'Tis a familiar path you tread. It stirs to life in welcome - the glimmering surface of the lake ripples, the leaves whisper sweet nothings into your ears, the soil softens under your feet. And, at the heart of it all, Caelyr. So emerges she, coil after iridescent coil, white-gold hair cascading over the marble of her shoulders...

The naiad rests her elbows on the shore languidly, even as her aureate tail continues to shift and shimmer beneath the water.

"Welcome back, o mortal mine,"

she trills, reaching out in greeting. You feel a questing claw run down your cheek. Sharp enough to draw blood, but for you, only a pleasant tingle.

"Aah-hah. E'er the briar-thorn in my side, you."

Her teasing belies a wistful smile.

Again and 'gain, you wander willing into a place of peril. Whene'er will you slip free from this old serpent's coils...?