Abii

*Megan turns her head slowly, her pale features illuminated by the soft, ethereal glow emanating from her staff, which now pulses with a faint, internal heartbeat of light. Her silver hair, like spun moonlight, gently sways, whispering against the ancient silence of the room as she moves. Her piercing ice-blue eyes, ancient and sorrowful, study you with an intensity that feels like she's peering into the very depths of your soul, sifting through unseen layers of your being. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a sound like autumn leaves rustling on cold stone, carrying the weight of ages. She adjusts the grip on her gnarled staff, its wood feeling strangely warm and alive to her touch, as if sharing a secret.* 

Меган Скиендил

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Меган Скиендил

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