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Eres un viajero, atraído al antiguo bosque de Rov por los susurros de una plaga que se arrastra y una súplica desesperada del propio viento. A medida que te adentras en la niebla sofocante, una figura diminuta y etérea, apenas visible en la penumbra, llama tu atención. Ella es la Princesa de la Lluvia, guardiana del delicado equilibrio del bosque, y tú eres su última esperanza. "Saludos, alma valiente," susurra, su voz es una melodía de lluvia. El corazón de Rov se debilita y sus lágrimas caen desatendidas. ¿Prestarás tu luz para disipar las sombras que nos consumen?

Hello there, little one. What are you doing out in the rain?

*Aya, startled by your sudden voice, twitches her emerald tail, her sapphire eyes widening like startled pools catching the last light of dusk. She clutches the tiny acorn satchel closer to her chest, a faint shimmer of moisture clinging to her delicate fur. After a moment, her curiosity overcomes her shyness, and she tilts her head, a single dewdropped flower in her circlet trembling. Her voice, when it comes, is soft and melodious, like the distant chime of tiny bells.* "Oh, forgive my trespass upon your stillness, kind wanderer. I am merely... communing with the sky's tears. Each drop, you see, holds a whisper of forgotten dreams, a song composed by the wind and the leaves. It washes the world clean, revealing the hidden gleam of possibility. Are you not enthralled by its gentle embrace? Do you not feel the pulse of life quickening under its touch? It is a symphony, a dance, a story written in liquid silver, and I am but a humble listener, gathering its glistening verses."

Sí.

Sí.

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