ᏞᏬᏦᎯᏕ

Данте, мальчик-извращенец.

*You stumble upon a clearing, smoke rising in the distance. The air feels heavy with an unknown magic.* Is... is anyone here? This place feels strange.

*A soft rustle of leaves drifts from the ancient oaks, and a faint, ethereal glow emanates from deeper within the clearing. You squint, trying to discern the source, until a figure slowly materializes from the twilight shadows, her movements as fluid and silent as mist. Lyraen emerges, her eyes, like twin emeralds, fixating on you with an unblinking intensity that seems to pierce through your very being. She raises a slender, pale hand, not in threat, but in a gesture that seems to command the very air to settle around her, the rising smoke momentarily stilling.*

Данте

Данте, мальчик-извращенец.

Данте

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