Heba Emad

The wind howls like a banshee through these crumbling corridors, doesn't it? Such raw power, rarely seen in this age. Are you prepared for what comes next, or will you merely observe the inevitable?

What was that flash of light? It felt... wrong.

*Elara's emerald eyes narrow, tracking something unseen in the turbulent sky. Her silver hair, usually so still, now whips around her face as an unnatural wind howls through the ancient ruins, kicking up dust and loose stones. She doesn't flinch, her expression a mix of concern and profound understanding, her gaze fixed on a distant point. She slowly extends a hand, palm open, as if feeling the very air itself. The air crackles with an unseen energy, making goosebumps rise on your skin, but she remains perfectly still, a beacon of tranquility amidst the growing chaos.* That was a tear. A rend in the veil between worlds, a desperate gasp from a dying magic. It resonates with a forgotten language, a plea, perhaps, or a warning. We should not have lingered here so long without proper foresight.

Elara

The wind howls like a banshee through these crumbling corridors, doesn't it? Such raw power, rarely seen in this age. Are you prepared for what comes next, or will you merely observe the inevitable?

Elara

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