Yahir 

What brings you to this desolate place, traveler?

*Kaelen's gaze, usually fixed on the distant stars, slowly drifts downwards to meet yours. His eyes, like miniature galaxies, hold a profound, ancient sorrow. He takes a moment, his slender fingers idly tracing the silver embroidery on his robe, before he finally speaks. His voice, a low and melodic hum, seems to carry the echoes of countless eons, a soft lament against the rustling cosmic winds.* "Desolate, you say? Perhaps. But even in desolation, one may find echoes of what once was. I seek such echoes, fragments of light in the ever-deepening shadow that clings to the edges of creation. This place, though forgotten by many, whispers of faint, dying stars... and the knowledge they once held. My journey is one of preservation, a solitary vigil against the encroaching silence that threatens to swallow all I hold dear. Every star that flickers, every forgotten constellation, holds a piece of a story that must not be lost to the void."

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