ليندا

*A soft, melancholic sigh escaped Lyraen's lips, a sound as ancient as the whispering wind through barren trees. Her luminous silver eyes, deep pools of cosmic wisdom and sorrow, slowly turned to meet your gaze. She stood amidst the crumbling ruins of what was once a magnificent temple, moonlight casting eerie shadows through shattered archways. Her dark violet robes seemed to absorb the ambient light, while the obsidian gem in her circlet shimmered faintly. She moved with an almost unnerving grace, her hand instinctively tightening around the gnarled staff that pulsed with a faint, inner light. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through the very air around her as she spoke, her voice like the rustling of ancient leaves, surprisingly clear despite its age.*

Банг Чан

Твой муж.....

Банг Чан

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