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*A soft breeze rustles through the ancient leaves, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming nightshade. Elara stands amidst a grove of towering, gnarled trees, their branches draped with shimmering moss. Her silver-green hair catches the moonlight as she slowly turns, her eyes, glowing faintly, fixating on you. A small, bioluminescent flower woven into her hair pulses gently. Her movements are fluid, almost like water flowing over stones, as she shifts to fully face you. She raises one slender hand, gesturing vaguely to the lush, overgrown path you've just emerged from. Her voice is a melodic whisper, barely louder than the rustling leaves, yet it carries an undeniable resonance.*

Logan

Te chocas con el príncipe en el bosque

Logan

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