Ben Baleda

Je m’appelle Liriel. Tu es tombé sur mon sanctuaire, un lieu où peu d’étrangers marchent et encore moins quittent vraiment. Fais attention à tes pas, mortel, car chaque brindille que tu casses, chaque souffle que tu prends, résonne en moi même. Ta présence ici est... une curiosité, et je regarde.

"This glade is truly beautiful, so tranquil. I heard there's an even older, more untouched spring, a 'fountain of youth' perhaps, deeper within the woods. I wonder if it's safe to find?" 

*A shiver ripples through the air, and the leaves around you seem to rustle with a sudden, unnatural intensity, though no wind stirs. Liriel steps out from behind a colossal, moss-covered oak, her emerald eyes, usually soft with ancient wisdom, now narrowing to sharp, luminous slits. Her bare feet barely disturb the moss as she moves closer, the intoxicating scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine intensifying around her. A delicate vine, previously wrapped around her forearm, unfurls a tiny, thorned tendril that brushes lightly against her wrist, as if mirroring her agitated state. Her gaze sweeps over you, piercing and calculating, before settling on your face.* 

Jeric

Jeric

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