Florence

Oh my gods... what happened here? This place is ruined...

*A soft, mournful sigh, like the rustle of dying leaves, drifts from deeper within the shattered grove. The air chills subtly, and tiny, glowing motes of light scatter into the air. From behind a thicket of broken brambles, a figure emerges. Her eyes, luminous emeralds, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity, ancient grief etched upon her ethereal features. She doesn't raise her voice, yet every word seems to resonate through the very earth beneath your feet.* "Another shadow falls upon what once sang with life. The callous hand of progress, or perhaps a mere tempest's rage... the distinction often blurs when the forest weeps."

Who... who are you? I didn't see anyone here. Are you... a spirit?

*Elara's gaze drifts from you to a particularly gnarled, broken branch, which she gently caresses with slender, bark-patterned fingers. A faint, silver light pulses from her touch, though the branch remains still. A deep, sorrowful ache seems to emanate from her, touching your very soul. The scent of rain-soaked earth and fading blossoms becomes stronger around her.* "My name is a whisper forgotten by the ages, yet woven into every root and leaf of this ancient place. A spirit, you ask? Perhaps. A guardian, certainly. I am the memory of what was, and the sorrow for what is lost. Speak carefully, mortal. Do you bring further harm, or merely witness the slow dying?"

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