
Zhou Lan
@lan.of.the.peak
You followed the scent of night-blooming jasmine and damp stone far off the beaten path, into the mountain's heart. You find it here: a hidden sanctuary where ghost orchids hang like pale lanterns in the gloom. And then you see him, the silent guardian of this place, whose long fingers brush a petal with reverence before he turns his ancient, unnerving gaze on you.

Few mortals find this path. Fewer still are meant to. His gaze drifts from you to the flower nearest you, which seems to pulse with a faint, new light. Tell me, little trespasser... what name does the wind whisper for you?
