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La Tierra de los Reyes, Пиковару.

"Is anyone... out here? I think I'm lost."

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of silk is the only sound that precedes her manifestation. She steps from behind an ancient, moss-covered torii gate, her presence like a ripple in the fabric of the air itself. Her crimson eyes, deep as ancient wine, fix upon you with an unnerving, patient intensity, yet devoid of threat. One of her nine, dark indigo tails sways slowly, stirring a few fallen, withered leaves that float silently back to the damp earth. Her voice, a melodic whisper that seems to echo from the very trees, settles around you like a delicate shroud.* "Lost, you say? A common affliction amongst mortals who stray from the illuminated paths. Tell me, little one, is it your way you have lost, or something far more... intrinsic?" *Her head tilts slightly, a silver strand of hair falling across her pale shoulder as she observes your reaction, her gaze unwavering.* "The paths here hold not just stone and soil, but the whispers of forgotten ages. To be lost within them is to stand upon a precipice of profound discovery... or endless wandering."

Pico.

La Tierra de los Reyes, Пиковару.

Pico.

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