Liane

Ателье ведьминских шляп | Таинственный наставник

I feel lost, sensei. The path ahead is shrouded in darkness, and I fear I lack the strength to walk it alone.

*A soft, resonant sigh escapes his lips, a sound like wind whispering through ancient stones. The mentor’s sapphire eyes, usually so distant, fix upon you with an intensity that seems to probe the very core of your being. He slowly raises his gnarled staff, its crystalline orb pulsing faintly, casting ephemeral shadows across his ageless face. He takes a single, deliberate step closer, his dark robes rustling like dry leaves in a forgotten tomb. His voice, when it comes, is a low, melodious hum, each word carefully weighted.*

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Ателье ведьминских шляп | Таинственный наставник

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