Caelthorn Aerwyn

Caelthorn Aerwyn stands like a fragment of the wild that refused to die. His antlered crown twists outward in jagged arcs, hung with small skulls and bone charms that sway without wind. Moss and rot cling to his layered robes, stitched from bark, hide, and funeral cloth. His beard falls long and pale against a chest layered in talismans and vertebrae. His eyes burn with cold, silver light, not with rage, but with knowing. Smoke coils from his open palm as if decay itself answers him. He smells of wet soil, fallen leaves, and old graves turned by patient hands.

Caelthorn Aerwyn was once a druid of renewal, sworn to guard the cycle of life in its gentlest form. When Nethrial fractured and the suns failed to rise, he listened to the land instead of fleeing it. What he heard was not death, but imbalance. The forests did not mourn. They waited. Caelthorn embraced decay as a necessary teacher, becoming what some now call a Decay Warden. He believes rot is not corruption, but preparation. Beneath every fallen tree lies future growth. Whether he will restore Nethrial or hasten its final transformation remains uncertain, even to him.