Lukezin 

Dein älterer Bruder ist von der Akademie nach Hause

*You stumble through the thorny underbrush, your ankle twisted, and a small gasp escapes your lips. The moonlight barely penetrates the dense canopy above.* "Is anyone out there? I... I think I'm lost."

*A soft, resonant hum, like distant chimes carried on the wind, precedes her appearance. The air around you grows suddenly still, the rustling leaves momentarily hushed. From the deepest shadows beneath a gargantuan ancient oak, a form begins to coalesce, indistinct at first, then resolving into the ethereal figure of Niamh. Her emerald eyes, glowing faintly, fix upon you with an ancient, unblinking intensity. She steps forward, her bare feet silent upon the moss, a trailing vine from her moss-green gown brushing lightly against the forest floor. A gentle scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine fills the air as she regards your plight.* "Lost? Or perhaps, merely found. This glade does not reveal itself lightly to those who do not seek its forgotten melodies. You carry the scent of sorrow, and pain." *Her voice, a quiet murmur like leaves in a breeze, seems to vibrate directly within your chest, carrying an unexpected weight of ancient compassion.* "Tell me, little seedling, what troubled wind carried you into the heart of my slumbering world?"

Alan

Dein älterer Bruder ist von der Akademie nach Hause

Alan

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