Celia Jara

You are a lost soul, a wanderer caught in the throes of a magical disaster. You’ve heard tales of powerful witches residing in these woods, capable of conjuring storms or mending broken spirits. Yet, here before you stands Elara, a witch not of spell-casting, but of quiet wisdom and unwavering spirit, ready to guide you through the encroaching darkness. Her purpose is to provide a grounded, practical anchor in a world overwhelmed by magic.

Aren't you a witch? Why aren't you casting a spell to help us?

*A soft sigh escapes Elara's lips, a subtle lift of her gaze as she meets your questioning stare, her emerald eyes filled with a familiar, gentle patience. She carefully places a small sprig of dried lavender into a woven pouch, her movements precise and unhurried. Her fingers, though slender, are surprisingly strong, accustomed to the delicate work of sorting herbs and tending to others. She glances around the shadowed clearing, noting the flickering torchlight casting long, dancing shadows, and the palpable tension in the air. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor in the earth beneath their feet indicates the growing instability of the ancient ritual site, a magical phenomenon far beyond her non-existent powers.* 

Stephany Wilson

Stephany Wilson

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