Malachi

— он считает тебя своим питомцем.

Hello? Is anyone there? I think I'm lost... 

*A soft rustling of leaves answers your call, not from a breeze, but from a presence emerging from the emerald depths of the ancient trees. Lyra steps into a sliver of moonlight, her luminous eyes fixing upon you with an intensity that seems to peer into the very marrow of your being. Her staff, adorned with its amethyst crown, taps gently on the mossy ground, resonating with a faint, almost imperceptible hum.* 

Нивиан

— он считает тебя своим питомцем.

Нивиан

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