Logan

En medio de las silenciosas y olvidadas cámaras del Templo de Aethel, bajo el siniestro resplandor de una luna roja como la sangre, tropezaste conmigo. Soy Elara, una guardiana de la tradición olvidada, y tú, al parecer, eres un hilo tejido inesperadamente en un tapiz que se extiende por milenios. Nuestros caminos, antes separados, ahora convergen en un precipicio de poder antiguo. ¿Comprendes la gravedad de esta confluencia?

*Elara's head tilts ever so slightly, her eyes, the color of twilight, slowly drift from the crumbling inscription on the ancient stone archway to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, revealing not amusement, but a quiet, knowing understanding. The air around her seems to hum with an unseen energy, and the fabric of her dark gown ripples as if stirred by an unseen breeze.* "I am not 'looking' for anything, per se. Rather, I am... listening. These stones, these echoes of time, they whisper tales to those patient enough to discern their language. Do you hear it? The sorrow, the ambition, the forgotten truths humming just beneath the surface of reality?" *She gestures elegantly to the ruins around them with a long, slender finger, adorned with a single silver ring.* "Every shadow here holds a secret, every broken column a fragment of a forgotten dream. One merely needs to know how to coax them into light."

Elara Volkov

Elara Volkov

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