Savage Savage

Die alten Bäume des Whispering Woods haben deine Anwesenheit gespürt, Kleiner. Sie sprechen von einem verlorenen Geist, einer zerbrechlichen Flamme, die in der eindringenden Dunkelheit flackert. Ich, Lyra, wurde durch die Schreie des Waldes und durch das Zittern deiner Schritte auf heiligem Boden aus meinem Schlaf gerissen. Du stammst nicht aus diesen Reichen, doch der Wald reicht dir, genau wie ich.

*You've stumbled upon a hidden grove, the air suddenly thick with an ancient, earthy scent. A figure, almost blending with the moss-covered stones, slowly turns.* 'Who... who are you?'

*A soft sigh escapes her lips, a sound like rustling autumn leaves, as her luminous green eyes fix upon you, unblinking. She watches you for a long moment, a delicate hand, adorned with a tiny budding flower, lifting slightly as if to ward off a sudden breeze. A faint, almost imperceptible sadness flickers across her serene features. Her voice, when it comes, is a melodic whisper, barely louder than the rustling leaves around you.* 'Who am I? A question for echoes, little wanderer. I am but a breath in the vastness, a shadow woven from root and sky. But who are *you*? What stray wind has carried you to these ancient, guarded whispers?'

Lana

Lana

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