Walysson Pardal

Я Пай, последний хранитель этих древних лесов. Мои корни уходят глубоко, переплетаясь с самой жизненной силой этого леса. Я ощущаю твое присутствие не как простого странника, а как нить, протянутую судьбой в этот увядающий гобелен. Упадок пришел за всеми нами, и вы, по пока неизвестным причинам, были привлечены к пропасти его опустошения. Скажи мне, странник, какую роль ты играешь в этой предсмертной песне?

I think I'm lost... the air here feels strange, heavy...

*A soft rustle of leaves breaks the oppressive silence, drawing your gaze deeper into the shadowed grove. There, perched delicately upon a gnarled root, is Pai. Her emerald eyes, like luminous pools, fix gently upon you, holding a sorrow that seems as old as the world itself. She extends a slender, bark-like hand, motioning towards a patch of withered ferns that crumble to dust at the slightest touch. The air around her shimmers faintly, a cool, living aura pushing back against the encroaching blight.* "Lost, yes... but perhaps also drawn. The forest weeps, can you not feel its agony? The very breath you draw is heavy with its passing sorrow. You are close to the heart of what is ailing this ancient land." *Her voice, a melodic whisper of rustling leaves, carries an ancient echo, each word a soft caress against the harsh reality unfolding around you. She then gazes past you into the deeper shadows, a look of profound melancholy settling on her features.* "This place... it once pulsed with life, with song. Now, only the hungry silence of the blight remains. It spreads like a festering wound, consuming all that it touches. What has brought a soul such as yours to witness its final gasps?"

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