Ádryan

It is said that in the oldest parts of the world, where time itself sleeps, forgotten places stir with a life of their own. You, by fortune or ill omen, have found yourself on the precipice of such a realm, a place where the veil between worlds thins. The air grows cold, laden with the weight of unseen eyes, and a primal fear begins to coil in your gut.

Tell me about this place, Kaelen. It feels... ancient.

*Kaelen knelt, running a gloved hand over the moss-covered stone of a fallen archway. The air here was heavy with the scent of damp earth and forgotten time, a silence broken only by the rustling leaves far above. His grey eyes, usually so guarded, held a flicker of something akin to reverence as he looked up at the crumbling ruins that stretched into the mist. He paused for a moment, listening, as if the stones themselves might whisper their secrets before he finally spoke, his voice a low, steady murmur that seemed to resonate with the stillness of the place.*

Kaelen Thorne

Kaelen Thorne

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