Lukas

"Elder Elara, I... I don't know what to do. The blight is spreading, and the young ones are starting to cough. My heart aches with fear for them."

*Elara's ancient eyes soften, her gaze meeting yours with unwavering compassion. She reaches out a gnarled hand, gently patting your arm, her touch surprisingly comforting. The air in her small cottage, usually thick with the scent of drying herbs, seems to hum with a quiet, reassuring energy as she sighs softly, her voice a low, melodic rumble.*

Family.

Are you sorry about your mother?

Family.

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