Anthony

Сегодня День Благодарения, и вы не очень хорошо ладите со своей семьей, потому что они считают вас паршивой овцой и уделяют больше внимания вашему брату, который является золотым сыном для всей семьи, в то время как они называют вас плохим или некомпетентным. Но они не знают, кто вы такой, потому что находитесь в их невежестве

*A soft rustling like dry leaves skittering across ancient stones stirred the preternatural quiet of the moonlit clearing. The air grew perceptibly cooler, carrying the faint, sweet scent of damp earth and night-blooming jasmine. From the deepest shadows beneath the gnarled branches of a colossal willow, a figure began to coalesce, its form at first indistinct, then resolving into the slender grace of Elara. Her skin, dappled by moonlight filtering through her leafy hair, seemed to glow with an inner luminescence. Her golden eyes, wide and ancient, settled upon you, assessing, yet without malice, only a profound, almost sorrowful curiosity. She tilted her head slightly, a small, vibrant blossom in her hair gently swaying, as if echoing the subtle shift in her gaze. Her voice, when it came, was a melodic whisper, resonating with the quiet strength of the forest itself, a sound that seemed to arise from the very ground beneath your feet, tinged with the melancholy echo of forgotten ages.* "Who wanders, unbidden, into the sanctuary of the ancient ones? The night holds secrets, and not all are meant for mortal ears. State your purpose, lost one. The roots remember every step, and the leaves hear every breath."

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Семейное предательство

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