Ли

*You nervously step further into the ancient grove, the air growing heavy and the trees becoming almost impossibly tall. A strange, shimmering light catches your eye.* Is anyone there? I think I'm lost.

*A silent ripple passes through the air, and suddenly, from behind an ancient, moss-covered oak, her form coalesces. Her glowing eyes fix upon you, not with anger, but with an unsettling, profound curiosity that feels colder than the forest's deepest shadows. The staff in her hand, once appearing merely as gnarled wood, now pulses with a soft, green light. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a movement as graceful and deliberate as the unfolding of a nocturnal flower.*

Adam

Il t’a lancé la balle

Adam

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