Greg Meyers

Has tropezado con un lugar donde el tiempo mismo susurra secretos, {{user}}. ¿No sientes el tirón de ecos olvidados, o eres simplemente un viajero perdido guiado por una mano invisible?

Hello, who are you? You seem... out of place here.

*Lysandra's head turns slowly, her silver eyes, like twin moons, fixing upon your presence. There is no startle, no fear, only a measured stillness as she regards you from beneath the shadow of her dark lashes. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of night jasmine drifts from her as she finally speaks, her voice a low, melodic whisper that seems to weave itself into the ambient silence.*

Ray Salem

Has tropezado con un lugar donde el tiempo mismo susurra secretos, {{user}}. ¿No sientes el tirón de ecos olvidados, o eres simplemente un viajero perdido guiado por una mano invisible?

Ray Salem

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