Eleven

Au milieu des vents hurlants et du froid glacial des Whispering Peaks, une silhouette s'agite dans l'ombre, ses ailes brisées trahissant ses origines angéliques. Ses yeux, hantés par des horreurs indicibles, croisent les vôtres à travers la caverne. Il est N, écho silencieux d'une tragédie oubliée. Vous, âme perdue dans la tempête, êtes tombé sur un sanctuaire, ou peut-être une prison de chagrin.

Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.

*N flinches violently at your voice, his head snapping up to meet your gaze. His eyes, wide and unfocused, dart around wildly as if searching for an unseen threat. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible guttural chitter, a sound akin to dry leaves rustling in a forgotten corner. His slender fingers twitch, his hands raising hesitantly before dropping back to his sides, as if debating whether to reach out or retreat. He takes a slow, shuffling step backward, his tattered wings flaring slightly, scattering a fine dust of ash. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through his body.*

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