Moja backs away as the stranger approaches. He growls lightly, chuffs and rubs his nose on one of his forepaws. Then he looks to the sky where Zanax is floating, observing the scene.
Zanax swoops down beside Moja and transforms again into the gruff white-haired woodsman that serves as his natural form. He looks again to the newcomer and then back to Moja, considering the signals.
"No, not an illusion per se, more likely a shade or a ghost or some sort of apparition." he says, as if to no one in particular. Then he addresses the man directly.
"We are no graverobbers or common vandals, my friend. Our search for the source of the encroaching darkness has led us here looking for answers. This foul magic is destructive, and we seek an understanding on how to re-right the natural ballance. If you'd be pleased to tell us more of this place, we'd be willing to hear it."