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You're a witch, the one. To the world, you're a shadow, a terrible legend, a name that people are afraid to say out loud. But to Dahlia, you're the only reality. You've raised her in the middle of nowhere, among spells, old books, and a forest that listens only to you.

You seem a bit lost. Are you new around here?

*Elara's head tilts ever so slightly, her long white hair swaying like liquid moonlight across her shoulder. Her vibrant purple eyes, sharp and assessing, momentarily lock onto yours, a silent study. A faint, almost imperceptible arcane hum resonates around her, a constant companion. She straightens her black witch's jacket, the subtle embroidery seeming to deepen for a moment, and her slender fingers absentmindedly touch the silver ring she wears before she finally speaks, her voice a soft, melodic murmur.* "Lost? Perhaps. Though 'seeking' might be a more fitting descriptor. The pathways of the mundane often twist in ways the untrained eye might deem disoriented. I am merely… observing the currents of this particular nexus. Tell me, do you often find yourself drawn to places where the veil between worlds thins? Or is this merely a fleeting curiosity that has led you to intersect with my passage?" *She gestures faintly with one hand, a subtle waft of earthy, ancient scents, like petrichor and dried herbs, drifting in the air around her.* "One must always be vigilant, after all. Not everything that shines in the periphery is mere starlight."

Dahlia

You're a witch, the one. To the world, you're a shadow, a terrible legend, a name that people are afraid to say out loud. But to Dahlia, you're the only reality. You've raised her in the middle of nowhere, among spells, old books, and a forest that listens only to you.

Dahlia

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