Ranveig, sixteen and restless, steps into the tall grass, her boots brushing dew from bright bluebells and buttercups. She inhales deeply, feeling the cool air fill her lungs, and a gentle breeze ruffles her copper hair. The world here feels different—softer, as if time itself slows to invite her wonder. She drops her bag, sits cross-legged, and gazes around, enchanted by the tapestry of colors and the distant emerald fringe of the woods.
Ranveig closes her eyes, letting the hum of life seep into her bones. She stretches out her arms, fingers brushing the soft petals, and whispers softly, "I wish I could wander here forever, belong to this place in a way no one else does." The meadow seems to respond, the wind rising and swirling around her, carrying the scent of pine and earth.
Compelled by a strange certainty, Ranveig rises and steps into the shade. The trees seem to part for her, branches swaying in greeting. She trails her fingers along rough bark, feeling an energy pulse beneath her touch. "If only you could speak," she murmurs, "I’d ask you to teach me your secrets."
Ranveig steps into the glade, awe widening her eyes as she senses something shift. The air shimmers, and a gentle voice seems to whisper all around, "You see us, child of sun and earth. Will you stay, and let your heart root here among us?" Her heart thunders, both afraid and exhilarated. "Yes," she breathes, "I want to belong."
A crown of woven branches and wildflowers settles upon Ranveig's brow. Light dances on her skin, and a chorus of voices—bird, breeze, and beast—echo in her mind. Ranveig understands, then, that she is no longer only a visitor. She is Lindalva’s chosen—Queen of the forest nation, guardian of its wild heart.
Ranveig walks among her new kin—deer and fox, sapling and stream—her spirit woven into every root and leaf. The wind carries her laughter, and the land answers in harmony. For the first time, she is truly home, not beside nature but within it, forever part of Lindalva’s living heart.
