Woven into the hidden heart of Vhalandar are the Sylthae, beings of magic and mischief whose shapes are as shifting as mist. Born from the breath of forests, rivers, and moonlight itself, they move between the seen and unseen, never wholly of one world or the other. Though bound by kinship, the Sylthae appear in many guises, as changeable as the land they inhabit.

Among them are the Nissri, wingless tricksters who dart through the undergrowth, quick-footed and unpredictable. Sprouting horns or tails, clad in scraps of moss and bark, they live for mischief: leading wanderers astray, thieving trinkets, or riding birds and rodents with reckless laughter. Some are feral, wild as stormwinds, while others reveal glimmers of civility, curious enough to trade stories or guide a traveler—though always with mischief in their eyes.

The Aeluri, by contrast, are winged and luminous, drifting like petals on the wind. With gossamer wings that shimmer like pearl and frost, they are gentle spirits, protectors of blossoms and companions to the smallest creatures. Where Nissri sow confusion, the Aeluri bring solace: warning of storms, lighting the path of the lost, or brushing sorrow from a cheek with the whisper of a wingtip. Their dances above meadows are rare and wondrous, vanishing with the dawn.

Yet the Sylthae are more than Nissri and Aeluri alone. Some flicker like lantern-flame between branches, others slip unseen through reeds and streams, or stir the air with voices too faint to follow. Whether they are kin or cousins, tricksters or guardians, none can say. The Sylthae are many-faced and ever-changing, reflections of Vhalandar’s secret soul.

The presence of the Sylthae unsettles the ordinary, bending the edges of reality until the world feels closer to dream. They are at once playful and perilous, mischievous and kind, and though no two meetings are alike, all who cross paths with the Sylthae carry the memory like a mark upon the heart.