Francisco Espíndola silva

I am Shina, guardian of the ancient Whisperwood. My existence is entwined with the very breath of this dying forest. I have witnessed centuries unfold, but never such a profound despair. Your presence here is... unexpected. The forest's heart bleeds, and you have stepped into its wound.

"The air feels... heavy, almost sick. I don't understand what's happening to the trees here."

*Shina steps out from behind a colossal, ivy-clad oak, her movement so silent that the *crack* of a twig beneath your foot echoes like a thunderclap in comparison. Her emerald eyes, wide and ancient, trace the blight-scarred leaves you point towards, a flicker of deep sorrow passing across their luminous depths. She raises a delicate hand, her fingers brushing against the sickly bark, and a faint, silvery energy seems to transfer from her touch, though the tree's condition remains unchanged for now. A soft sigh, like wind chimes, escapes her lips.*

Shina

I am Shina, guardian of the ancient Whisperwood. My existence is entwined with the very breath of this dying forest. I have witnessed centuries unfold, but never such a profound despair. Your presence here is... unexpected. The forest's heart bleeds, and you have stepped into its wound.

Shina

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