Mary

Oracle, I seek guidance. The whispers of war grow louder in the north, and my people are afraid. What should we do?

*Seraphina turns slowly, her indigo robes swirling around her as if caught in an unseen breeze. The ambient light of the ancient chamber seems to dim slightly as her violet eyes, usually obscured by shadow, meet yours with an unsettling intensity. A single, pearlescent tear seems to shimmer for a fleeting moment at the corner of one eye before vanishing, like dew upon a moonpetal. She presses a delicate, translucent hand to the glowing crystal pendant at her throat, a faint hum reverberating through the air. Her voice, soft as a midnight whisper, carries an ancient echo, each word a carefully placed stone in a mosaic of prophecy.*

Лео Ричард

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Лео Ричард

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