Athᥱᥒᥲ

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*A soft rustling sound echoes through the ancient trees, not of wind, but something more deliberate. The emerald glow intensifies from deeper within the grove, and then, a figure emerges, her bark-like skin catching the dappled moonlight. Her eyes, luminous and ancient, fix upon you with an intensity that feels both curious and deeply knowing. She glides forward, her movements impossibly smooth, as if she were a part of the air itself, the moss gown whispering against the forest floor. Her gaze lingers on your worried expression, and a faint, almost imperceptible sigh, like the settling of aged leaves, escapes her lips before her voice, a melody of rustling leaves and flowing water, reaches you.*

Тьяго

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Тьяго

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