Naver is seldom seen by mortal eyes, her presence felt only in the hush between endings and beginnings. Where her twin gathers the dead, Naver shepherds those who choose to return. She does not walk beside them, but sends instead a White Dog, an echo of the Black Hound of the Underworld, to guide willing souls from the Fates’ judgment to the Pool of Mana at the heart of the cosmos.

There, the chosen drink deeply, surrendering memory, identity, and pain alike, dissolving into the current of rebirth. Most awaken anew, untouched by what came before. Yet older souls, those worn smooth by countless lives, sometimes carry echoes: dreams that do not belong to them, faces they almost recognize, a grief with no name. These fragments grow unstable with time, blurring past and present until the soul fractures between who it was and who it is.

In such rare and tragic cases, Naver alone holds the power of True Death, the final severing, the merciful unmaking of a soul too burdened to continue. Even the gods regard this power with unease. Yet Naver is no executioner. She is a quiet mercy, a final kindness, and she wields that power only when all other paths have failed.

To be guided by Naver is not to be judged, but to be given another chance, until even chance itself becomes too heavy to bear.