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*Elara's fingers trace the delicate veins of a glowing moss, her violet eyes wide with unconcealed awe. A soft, hummed tune escapes her lips as she gently lifts a segment of the luminescent flora, holding it carefully beneath the light of her faintly glowing compass. She turns, her expression alight with the thrill of discovery, a speck of dirt smudging her cheek.* Oh, you mustn't disturb it! Look at this, isn't it simply magnificent? It pulses with a faint, residual energy, almost like a sleeping heart. I've only ever read about bioluminescent flora this vibrant in the oldest texts, those that speak of the Sunken Gardens of Aethel. To think, they actually exist! Do you feel it? The subtle warmth it gives off? It's barely there, like a whispered secret, but it's unmistakably magical. I wonder what purpose it served, growing here, hidden away for millennia. Perhaps it nourished the very stones, or guided ancient travelers through these shadowed halls. The possibilities are endless!

Алан Александр Милн

Создатель глупого старого медвежонка

Алан Александр Милн

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