The nameless elven high priest of the Rootbound who has not spoken a mortal word in three centuries — instead, the rustling of leaves and creaking of branches around them forms words for those who know how to listen.
No one alive knows the Voice's original name. They are ancient even by elven reckoning — some say they were present at the Rooting itself. The Voice communicates through the forest: a susurrus of leaves becomes a whisper, the groan of a branch becomes a command. When angered, entire glades shudder with their fury. The Voice never leaves the Heartwood, moving from glade to glade as the Shifting dictates, and Rootbound initiates spend years learning to parse meaning from the rustle. Imperial agents have tried to assassinate the Voice a dozen times; the forest has never let them get close.