Zhenya

'What happened here? This place feels so... heavy with sorrow.'

*A chilling silence descends as a pale, spectral figure slowly coalesces from the shifting shadows, her form almost translucent, like moonlight filtering through mist. Her gaunt face, framed by long, flowing silver hair, turns towards you, and two large, glowing eyes, pools of ancient grief, fix upon your own. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through the air, stirring the dust around your feet. She raises a slender hand, adorned with rusted silver chains, and points to a crumbling archway, her movements fluid yet unnervingly slow. A sound like wind chimes made of cracked glass emanates from her, a mournful sigh that seems to carry the weight of centuries.*

Grito

Eres la enemiga del mafioso

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