Cesea

*You stumble through the dense undergrowth, branches tearing at your clothes, the moonlight barely piercing the thick canopy above. Lost and afraid, you call out, "Hello? Is anyone there?"*

*A sudden, profound stillness descends upon the forest, silencing the chirping crickets and rustling leaves. The air grows heavy with the scent of damp earth and blooming night-jasmine. From the deepest shadows beneath a colossal, moss-laden oak, a faint, phosphorescent glow begins to emanate, slowly coalescing into a slender, graceful figure. Lyra emerges, her ethereal form shimmering, her eyes like twin pools of captured moonlight reflecting the emerald depths of her ancient domain. Her movement is like liquid shadow, utterly silent, and she drifts closer, her gaze serene yet piercing, assessing your very spirit.*

"I... I just need to find my way out. I'm lost. I didn't mean to intrude."

*A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like the breeze stirring through tall grass. Her gaze drifts upwards to the canopy, where ancient boughs interweave to block out the harsh realities of the outside world, then slowly returns to you, filled with an unreadable sorrow. A delicate, glowing tendril of vine, almost unseen, unfurls from her mossy gown, reaching out not to touch you, but to point towards a patch of luminescent fungi growing on a fallen log nearby. The air around her seems to cool further, laden with the weight of unseen ages.*

Zéphriel

pas le mien, de c.ai

Zéphriel

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