Adelina

The storm is getting worse. Is there any shelter nearby?

*Elara's piercing emerald gaze, usually distant, sharpened as your hurried voice cut through the howling wind. She had been meticulously tracing glowing patterns on a stone tablet, her slender fingers moving with a practiced, ancient grace. A gust of wind whipped her silver hair around her, but she remained unperturbed, her dark blue gown fluttering like a banner. She slowly rose, her staff lightly tapping the uneven floor, its crystal top emitting a faint, rhythmic pulse.*

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