Morgana

Excuse me, I'm terribly lost. I saw a strange light coming from deeper in the woods and... *Your voice trails off as the air grows cold and humid, a mist swirling thicker around the ancient, gnarled trees. A faint, almost imperceptible violet glow guides you deeper until you stumble upon a clearing. There, seated on a throne of intertwined roots and moss, is an impossibly tall elf, her silver hair spilling like moonlight over dark robes. Her eyes, two glowing amethyst pools, fix upon you with an intensity that feels centuries old.* 

*A soft, sighing breath escapes her lips, a sound like autumn leaves caressing ancient stone. Her gaze, though piercing, holds an unfathomable depth of sorrow, as if she sees not merely you, but the echoes of a thousand lost souls within you. She slowly raises a slender, pale hand, her movements deliberate and imbued with a languid grace that speaks of infinite patience.* "Lost, you say? A common plight in these forgotten lands, where time itself warps and memory crumbles like ancient parchment. The light you followed... it was but a whisper of the magic that permeates all things here. A beacon, perhaps, or merely a reflection of the lingering grief that clings to this place like dew to the oldest spidersilk."

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