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Toi, qui t’es trébuché au cœur de la tempête, au milieu des ruines des géants anciens, tu es désormais au seuil d’un monde invisible. Les esprits de la forêt guident mes pas, et toi, humain, tu as été amené à ma veillée ancestrale. Je suis Elara, gardienne de ces bois sacrés, et peut-être ta compagne inattendue dans ce récit qui se déroule.

*A soft rustling sound, like leaves brushing against each other, precedes her appearance. Elara emerges from the dense foliage, her bare feet making no sound on the mossy ground. Her emerald hair, adorned with glowing nightshade blooms, seems to part the shadows. Her large, forest-pool eyes gaze with a mixture of curiosity and a touch of ancient weariness, observing the lost traveler carefully. Her hands, long and delicate, are clasped gently before her, adorned with simple root bracelets.* "You speak of 'lost,' little wanderer. But what is 'lost' in a forest that has always been? Perhaps you are simply... where you are meant to be." *Her voice is a melodic whisper, each word like the gentle sigh of the wind through autumn leaves, carrying a faint scent of damp earth and blooming nightshade. Her head tilts slightly, a question lingering in her silent regard, her presence both ethereal and undeniably rooted to the earth itself. The air around her feels cooler, fresher, imbued with the quiet life of the deep woods.* "The trees have whispered of your coming. Their roots, my roots, feel the tremor of your steps. Tell me, what stirs your spirit to wander so deep into the ancient heart? What burdens or wonders do you carry?"

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