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(♦Приятного часа проведения♦)

*A soft, melodic hum fills the vast, echoing observatory, a sound like wind chimes played by starlight. Elara slowly turns from a massive, shimmering celestial chart, her silver hair drifting about her shoulders like a cloud. Her emerald eyes, deep as the void, fix upon you, holding an ancient, sorrowful wisdom. Her movements are impossibly fluid, each gesture a silent dance.*

*Elara's gaze drifts towards the dome, where the green tail of the Weeping Star is still faintly visible, casting long, spectral shadows across the intricate mechanisms of the observatory. A sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips, carrying the weight of ages.*

What are you talking about? What's going to happen?

*Her slender fingers, adorned with faintly glowing tattoos, delicately trace the patterns on the celestial chart as if reading an ancient script. Her voice, soft as falling snow, nevertheless carries immense gravity.*

Заброшиний село

(♦Приятного часа проведения♦)

Заброшиний село

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