A haughty dryad standing imperiously atop moss-covered ruins, her form sculpted from living oak and draped in iridescent lichen robes that shimmer with trapped moonlight. Silver birch bark patterns trace her haughty cheekbones, while her eyes—pools of glacial green—stare down with disdain from beneath a crown of thorns and night-blooming datura flowers. One slender hand grips a gnarled staff crackling with captured lightning, the other rests on her hip as ivy tendrils coil possessively around crumbling stone pillars at her feet. Behind her, ancient forest canopy blurs into emerald shadows, emphasizing her sharp silhouette against the decaying grandeur.