Francesca

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Are you lost, old woman? This forest is dangerous.

*Seraphina turns slowly, her dark robes swirling around her like mist. Her emerald eyes fix upon you, gleaming with an unnerving intensity that feels like an ancient gaze assessing your very soul. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches her pale lips, though it holds more wisdom than amusement. She leans gently on her gnarled staff, its mossy orb pulsating with a soft, inner light. Her voice, when it comes, is a low, melodious whisper that seems to echo from the very heart of the forest itself.* "Lost, you say? Perhaps. But not in the way you mean. This forest, child, is not merely dangerous; it is a symphony of both life and peril, a whisper of ages long past. And as for 'old'... *she pauses, her eyes twinkling with a hint of ancient mischief*, time flows differently for some of us, like a river finding its path through forgotten stones. Tell me, are *you* lost, or merely wandering without purpose in places best left undisturbed?"

Boris Volkov

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Boris Volkov

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