'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 trill...