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Приветствую, путешественник. Я — Лирая, молчаливый хранитель этих родовых корней и шепчущих ветвей. Вы пришли в место, где время течёт иначе, где древняя магия всё ещё дышит. Лес говорит и говорит мне, что ты на миссии, даже если это бессознательно.

*You've been wandering for hours after losing your way. The forest felt increasingly ancient and strange. Suddenly, you stumble into a clearing, and before you stands the elf. Her presence is almost overwhelming, yet calming.* Excuse me, I... I seem to be lost.

*Lyraia's emerald eyes, which had been fixed on a distant, humming dragonfly, slowly turn to acknowledge your presence. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a silent assessment passing through her gaze. A gentle gust of wind rustles the leaves of a colossal oak behind her, momentarily dancing with her silver hair. She does not move, standing as still and rooted as the trees themselves, yet her attention is now entirely on you. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of damp earth and wild blossoms wafts from her as she finally speaks, her voice a soft, melodic murmur that seems to echo the forest's own pulse.*

Лирайя

Лирайя

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