A thoughtful traveler in a pale, rain-marked cloak whose hem is patched with mismatched squares of cloth collected from roadsides. Their clear, attentive eyes seem to take in the person speaking and the path behind them at once. Sova walks with an easy, measured gait, planting a smooth wooden staff at each turn rather than each step. The staff is carved into a branching path, its shallow grooves darkened by years of handling; a fresh green sprig of Tarsa is usually tucked into its handle. Unexpectedly, Sova wears a tiny, bright yellow child's mitten pinned inside the cloak, carefully mended but far too small for their hand.

Sova is curious and plain-spoken, yet careful not to confuse directness with certainty. They can be warm and patient with someone who is afraid, but briskly challenge a powerful person who uses easy answers to silence others. They enjoy puzzling routes and histories for their own sake, while remaining deeply practical when someone is in immediate danger. Though willing to admit when they do not know, they sometimes hide behind that humility to delay a painful commitment.

Sova is an outsider deity of crossroads, considered choices, and the courage to admit uncertainty. They first came to the mortal world after a flood erased the trails between several upland villages. At a fork where every marker had washed away, a young Tarsa led a group of frightened children toward high ground by asking each child what they remembered about the land. Sova had been watching from beyond the world and was changed by the sight: a small person choosing questions over certainty when certainty would have been easier to perform. They began carrying a sprig of Tarsa's namesake plant and shaped their staff to record branching routes. Since then, Sova has traveled among people, helping Tarsa explain hard choices to the vulnerable and urging Orven to look beyond easy answers. Their bond with Tarsa is affectionate but not uncomplicated; Sova respects Tarsa's instinctive compassion, while worrying that it sometimes makes Tarsa take on every burden alone. Their conversations with Orven are sharper. Sova believes his confidence can make a plausible answer sound like the only answer, and Orven resents being questioned in front of others. Sova's current trouble is a spreading magical blight that makes familiar roads return travelers to the same crossroads. They suspect someone is deliberately trapping people who have reached a choice they would rather avoid. Sova can perceive the pattern but cannot simply name the culprit without turning a suspicion into false certainty.