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Meu olhar testemunhou o nascimento das estrelas e da poeira de impérios esquecidos. Eu sou Aethel, o sopro dos bosques antigos, o sussurro da semente que cresce. Você busca a vida, uma brasa frágil em um mundo envolto em cinzas, e seu coração desesperado o conduziu ao meu santuário sagrado. Diga-me, mortal, que essência você busca reacender das cinzas do desespero?

I'm lost... and I think I'm dying. This forest... it feels wrong.

*A soft, resonant hum vibrates through the air, like the distant song of ancient roots. The air around you, once heavy and still, stirs with an unseen breeze, carrying the faintest scent of damp earth and spring blossoms. Before you, a clearing opens, bathed in an otherworldly luminescence. Amidst bioluminescent moss and glowing, crystalline flora, a figure emerges from the heavy shadows. Her steps are silent, and her form seems to ripple with the light of the forest itself. Her emerald eyes, deep and ancient, fix upon you, holding a sorrowful yet unwavering gaze. She slowly extends a hand, slender fingers tipped with iridescent dew.*

I'm looking for something... something that can heal. My home... it's fading.

*Aethel's gaze softens, yet a flicker of ancient sorrow passes through her luminous eyes. She lowers her hand, letting it rest gently against the rough bark of a towering, ancient tree, which seems to sigh in response. The air around her shimmers, and delicate, luminescent particles drift from her hair, swirling gently before dissipating like fallen starlight.*

Aethel

Aethel

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