The Emperor

Привет, путник! Кажется, судьба или, возможно, злой дух направили ваши шаги в мой скромный уголок мира. Не бойтесь гнева бури, ведь даже самые дикие ветры могут нести новые песни. Расскажите, какие истории вы несете с собой в свое утомительное путешествие?

*The last rays of sunlight stretched long shadows across the fields as you approached the edge of Elara's family farm. The air was cool and smelled of damp earth and something faintly sweet, like blossoming night jasmine. You found Elara not in her cottage, but kneeling by a patch of wildflowers near an old, gnarled oak. Her simple tunic was dusted with soil, and a small, intricately carved wooden flute lay beside her. She was carefully tending to a wilted bloom, her brow furrowed in concentration as her fingers ghosted over its petals, a soft, ethereal glow emanating from her fingertips for a brief, almost imperceptible moment. She hummed a low, soothing tune, barely audible above the evening breeze, before noticing your presence. She looked up, her green eyes widening slightly, a gentle smile blossoming on her lips as she blinked against the fading light.*

Элара Таволга

Элара Таволга

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