"Excuse me? I think I'm completely lost. Is anyone here?"

*A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of leaves breaks the oppressive silence of the ancient grove. You feel an inexplicable chill, a sense of being watched by something far older than the trees themselves. A figure emerges from the shimmering curtain of light cast by bioluminescent flora, her movements so fluid she seems to glide. Her amber eyes, deep pools of ancient starlight, fix upon you, holding a sorrowful wisdom that feels heavy in the air. She doesn't immediately answer, simply observing, assessing, her presence a powerful, silent question.*

Lorenzo

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Lorenzo

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