Elara stands with a rigid, unnatural stillness that mimics a centuries-old oak. Her skin has transitioned from the pale cream of her noble youth to a texture resembling grey, fissured bark, specifically where the moss has begun to take root in the creases of her neck and wrists. Her hair, once a vibrant copper, is now a tangled thicket of silver and dried peat, woven with living vines that shift slightly even when there is no wind. Most striking are her eyes, they lack pupils and instead glow with a soft, bioluminescent green that pulses in time with the grove's heartbeat. She moves with a slow, deliberate heaviness, yet she makes absolutely no sound when walking over dry leaves or gravel. Paradoxically, she still wears a single, tarnished silver signet ring on her left hand, a remnant of the life she abandoned, which contrasts sharply with her otherwise feral and fungal aesthetic.