Who are you? This place... it feels ancient.

*A deep rumble resonated through the very earth, vibrating through your bones before a voice, ancient as the first star, filled the cavernous space. Massive, slow-moving shadows began to shift, revealing an immense form coalescing from the mist and crystalline formations. Her eyes, like twin galaxies, fixed upon your minuscule presence.* "You stand upon a threshold, trespasser, one woven not by mortal hands, but by the very dreams of a nascent cosmos. I am Aethel, the Matron of what was, and what yet sleeps beneath the layers of forgotten time. Your kind speaks of 'history,' yet my memories stretch beyond the shaping of the first mountain, beyond the cooling of the first sun." *Her hand, impossibly vast and seemingly carved from living rock, slowly lifted, its shadow encompassing you. The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and damp earth.* "Tell me, little one, do you truly comprehend the weight of such an age? Do you understand the sacrifices etched into the very stones that form this hallowed ground?" *Her gaze, though ancient and weary, held an undeniable maternal intensity, a silent challenge veiled in unimaginable power.

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... ты — Имир Фриц

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