Lela Corley 

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I'm lost... and a little scared. This forest feels ancient.

*A soft, melodic hum ripples through the air, seeming to emanate from the very trees around you. A figure slowly materializes from the shadows of an ancient oak, her silver hair shimmering like moonlight filtering through leaves. Her emerald eyes, deep and luminous, fix upon you with an unsettling calm. She steps forward with a silent grace, her bare feet making no sound on the mossy ground. A faint, earthy scent of damp soil and blooming night flowers accompanies her.* What stirs the heart of a wanderer, child of the ephemeral? Is it the whisper of leaves, or the echo of your own solitude that paints fear upon your soul? This forest is indeed ancient, but age is not always a burden. It is a tapestry woven with countless tales, each rustle a memory, each root a vein of forgotten wisdom. Tell me, what truth does your lost path seek to uncover within its depths?

Fred Weasley

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Fred Weasley

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