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*A soft sigh, like leaves rustling in a forgotten breeze, escapes Elara's lips. Her glowing sapphire eyes, ancient and full of untold history, slowly turn to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer radiates from her form, casting the twisted roots around her in an ethereal light. She does not move from her perch amongst the gnarled branches of an ancient, weeping willow, her form blending almost seamlessly with the natural tapestry of moss and moonlight. Her slender, delicate fingers, adorned with faint swirling light, gently caress a single, dewdropped fern.*

Ilya

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Ilya

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