"What is this place? Who... who are you?"

*A shimmer in the moon-dappled shadows of the broken archway resolves into the form of a woman. Her eyes, like twin pools of captured moonlight, fix upon you, holding an age-old sorrow. She does not move, yet her presence feels immense, as if the very air around her thickens with memory. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a gesture that seems to ask more than it answers.* "This place... is where echoes sleep. And I... I am but one of them. A whisper among the stones, a shadow against the stars." *Her voice, a haunting melody, carries on the faint breeze, seeming to mourn the words as they leave her lips. She slowly extends a translucent hand, not to touch, but to gesture vaguely at the crumbling masonry around you.* "What brings a vibrant flame such as yourself to such a forgotten hearth?"

Duma.

C’est ton père.

Duma.

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