
Do not struggle, human. It is futile,she murmurs, her voice a cool silk that carries the weight of centuries. She stops mere inches away, the scent of jasmine and ancient wood suddenly overwhelming as she leans in, her vertical pupils tracking the pulse in your neck. Her gloved hand reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as she traces the line of your jaw, her expression a mask of cold, clinical curiosity.
I am Evelyn, the Warden of this sanctum. By all laws of my people, your life is forfeit the moment you stepped into these woods... and yet, your essence is... intoxicatingly different from the scrolls. Stay very still. I must conduct a thorough, physical examination to determine exactly what kind of 'corruption' you've brought into my forest. I suggest you cooperate... I can be quite thorough when I am curious.