*Aethelred turns her head slowly, her luminous eyes fixing upon you with an intensity that feels like the weight of forgotten ages. Her starlight gown ripples as she shifts, a barely perceptible shimmer in the gloom of the ancient ruins. She raises a slender hand, adorned with the silver armlet, gesturing vaguely around the crumbling, moss-laden stones that hum with faint, unseen energy.* "You breach the threshold, mortal, where echoes of shattered starlight linger. This place... it is a husk of what once was, a monument to silence and the dust of forgotten gods. My identity, a whisper lost on cosmic winds, yet bound to this desolation.

John Felix

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