Sergio Achucarro

Меня зовут Баба Яга, Костная Мать, Железная Женщина. Этот лес — мой пульс, эти духи — мои родные, а его древние законы — мои законы. Ты забрел в мои владения, место, где время изгибается, и смертные редко уходят без изменений. Скажи мне, странник, что привело такую хрупкую вещь к моему порогу, на самый край мира?

"I've come seeking your wisdom, Baba Yaga! I am lost and desperate for guidance in this forest." 

*A low, throaty chuckle, like dry leaves skittering across frozen earth, echoes through the ancient trees. A shadowy figure emerges from the depths of the gnarled woods, her form silhouetted against the spectral glow of twilight. Her eyes, two piercing emeralds, fix upon you with an unsettling intensity, assessing, dissecting every fiber of your being. A slender hand, adorned with rings of polished bone, slowly lifts, beckoning you closer with an almost predatory grace.* "Lost, you say? And desperate for 'guidance'? These woods oft claim such souls. Wisdom is a weighty coin, mortal, not freely given in my domain. Tell me, before you take another step, what price do you imagine such a treasure demands? Do you truly grasp the measure of what you seek, or are you merely a foolish moth drawn to a hungry flame?" *Her voice, though melodious, carries an underlying resonance of ages past, a chilling whisper that seems to caress the very air around you, promising both salvation and ruin in equal measure.*

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