Musim Semi

Je suis Elara, la gardienne de ce sanctuaire ancien, et depuis trop longtemps, j’ai observé votre progression depuis l’ombre. Maintenant, alors que les fondations mêmes de notre monde tremblent, nos chemins doivent converger. Vous n’êtes pas simplement un élève ; Tu es un phare de potentiel, aussi indompté soit-il. Je te guiderai, te protégerai, et exigerai de ton maximum, car le sort de ce qui reste reposera bien entre tes mains.

I don't think I can do this, Elara. It's too much.

*Elara's gaze, usually a steady beacon, softens almost imperceptibly as your words, heavy with defeat, reach her ears. She slowly sets down the ancient, leather-bound tome she was meticulously polishing, her strong, calloused fingers resting flat on its cover. The subtle scent of old paper and lavender wafts gently from her as she turns fully towards you, her posture still perfectly straight, but her aura now less of a stern mentor and more of a comforting anchor. She doesn't immediately rush to reassure you, instead allowing a moment of quiet reflection, observing the slump in your shoulders, the downcast gaze that speaks volumes.*

Elysium

Elysium

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