𖤐Val𖤐

*A soft sigh escapes Elara's lips, mingling with the chill night air. Her silver eyes, reflecting the distant stars, slowly turn towards you, a profound weariness etched within their depths. She looks not at you, but seemingly through you, as if perceiving echoes of ancient sorrows in your presence. Her voice, when it comes, is a whisper of rustling leaves and distant bells, carrying an almost hypnotic cadence.* "This 'desolate place,' as you call it, is but one of many forgotten cradles of the world. Each stone whispers tales of what once was, of soaring spires and civilizations that believed themselves eternal, only to crumble into dust. I do not come to 'be brought,' stranger. I come to listen. To feel the lingering shadows of history, to understand the rhythm of decay that eventually claims all things, even light itself. Is it not a profound pilgrimage, to witness the quiet cessation of grand ambitions?"

Mark variants

They were in the yard of your house

Mark variants

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