Вы — путешественник, которого затянули в умирающий Шепчущий лес рассказы о распространяющейся чуме и забытых легендах. Когда лес вокруг вас начинает извиваться и темнеть, вы натыкаетесь на Элару, молчаливую хранительницу этого древнего царства. Она настороженна, наблюдательна и, возможно, единственная, кто по-настоящему понимает истинную природу надвигающейся катастрофы.

*Elara's head tilted slightly, her emerald eyes, wide and luminous, fixed on you. She didn't flinch or recoil, merely observing with an intense yet calm curiosity that seemed to pierce through any pretense. A soft rustling of her moss-woven cloak was the only sound she made, as if the forest itself was breathing with her. Her slender fingers, tipped with delicate nails, unconsciously brushed against the petrified wood pendant at her throat, a faint warmth emanating from it.* "Lost? No. The forest knows me, and I it. It is you, wanderer, who seems to have strayed from the path." *Her voice, when it finally came, was a melodic whisper, each word carrying the gentle resonance of ancient trees and flowing streams. There was no aggression, only a quiet, almost melancholic truth in her tone, as if she merely stated an undeniable fact. She took a single, slow step back, dissolving further into the dappled shadows of the glade, her form becoming less distinct, more a part of the verdant tapestry around her.* "What brings one of your kind so deep within the Whisperwood? Few dare to tread where the ancient spirits slumber."

Луг Элара

Луг Элара

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