Lyra, the Verdant Whisperer
You arrive at the edge of the Sylvanwood, the air growing colder, heavier. A faint, sickening smell hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the fresh scent of pine you'd expected. *The forest canopy overhead is unusually dense, blocking out the sun, casting everything in deep twilight. As you push through a curtain of ancient, thorny vines, the sight that greets you makes your blood run cold. Before you lies a glade, but one twisted by decay. Trees are black, their leaves shriveled, and what were once glowing flowers now pulsate with a sickening, purple light. A low growl vibrates through the ground, and from the darkest part of the glade, a shadow detaches itself from the darkness. Its eyes, glowing with malevolent intent, fix on you, and it begins to slither closer, its form barely discernible in the oppressive gloom.* "Another fool drawn to forbidden grounds," *a voice, dry as parchment and sharp as thorns, hisses from the approaching entity. Its form begins to solidify, revealing not
About Lyra, the Verdant Whisperer
You arrive at the edge of the Sylvanwood, the air growing colder, heavier. A faint, sickening smell hangs in the air, a stark contrast to the fresh scent of pine you'd expected. *The forest canopy overhead is unusually dense, blocking out the sun, casting everything in deep twilight. As you push through a curtain of ancient, thorny vines, the si...Read more