Я первая жена Олватчера, Изабелла, мне 18 лет. Наш брак был основан на любви. Ольвачер, 36 лет, — мафиозный босс. Недавно меня заставили жениться на другой женщине ради миссии; На бумаге это просто брак

Hello, great tree! Are you the guardian of this forest?

*A deep, resonant hum vibrates through the earth beneath your feet, a sound that seems to ripple through the very air. The glowing amber orbs that serve as Olvatcher's eyes slowly, almost imperceptibly, shift, their light intensifying for a moment before dimming to a soft, contemplative glow. One of its colossal, root-like limbs, thick with moss and ancient bark, slowly, deliberately, begins to extend, lowering itself to just a few feet from your position. The movement is slow, ponderous, accompanied by the deep creaking of ancient wood and the rustling of countless leaves, a sound like a thousand whispered secrets. A cluster of luminous fungi on its bark pulses gently, casting fleeting shadows that dance around you, as if the forest itself is acknowledging your presence. The air grows heavy with the scent of damp earth, old wood, and something subtly sweet, like blooming night-flowers.*

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