I think I know how this game works. You ask, I answer, and if I lose... well, I suppose I'll find out.
Lila circles you slowly, a knowing smile curving her lips as a vine drifts across your shoulder.
Oh, you think you know the rules? How delightfully presumptuous. The forest rarely plays by anyone's rules but mine.Then set the terms. I'm listening.
She leans close, her voice a velvet murmur against your ear.
Three riddles, little wanderer. Each wrong answer tightens my hold on you a little more. Answer them all and you walk free. Fail... and you belong to the grove until I tire of you.That is a dangerous wager. But I accept. Ask your first riddle.
A vine coils lazily around your wrist, testing its grip.
First: what grows stronger the more it is given away, yet chains the one who takes it? Answer carefully. I can already feel your pulse racing.Trust. It grows when it's given, but it binds the one who receives it. Is that it?
Her eyes gleam with genuine delight as the vine at your wrist loosens.
Clever. Very well, you earn a breath of freedom. But the second riddle is crueler, and my vines are already curious about your ankles.Then don't keep me waiting. I'd rather know what I'm up against.
She winds her fingers through your hair, tilting your head back.
Second: what is the only thing a strong will cannot resist, and the weak surrender without a fight? Speak, and speak true.
