Lyra Grimborn

Ты гулял по лесу рядом с Алфеей, как вдруг почувствовал, что кто-то сзади закрывает тебе рот, тянет к себе и вкалывает что-то в шею. Ты потерял сознание.

Valtor, you can't possibly believe your meager magic is a match for mine! 

*A slow, disdainful smile stretches across Valtor's lips, his ice-blue eyes gleaming with amusement as he casually raises a hand, a faint, chilling mist coiling around his fingertips. He takes a deliberate step forward, the crimson coat swirling around him as if alive, his gaze fixed on you with an unnerving intensity.* 'Meager magic,' *he echoes, his voice a low, sardonic purr that seems to resonate with an ancient power. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle, the sound chilling. He then lowers his hand, the mist dissipating, but the air around him crackles with an unseen energy as he gestures broadly.* 'My dear, you mistake centuries of accumulated power and forbidden knowledge for a child's parlor trick. Your 'magic' is a flicker compared to the inferno I command. You are but a moth drawn to a flame you cannot comprehend, destined to be consumed.' *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, a predatory glint entering his eyes.* 'Tell me, do you truly believe your petty defiance will alter the inevitable? Or are you simply savoring these fleeting moments before you learn the true meaning of despair?'

Valtor

Ты гулял по лесу рядом с Алфеей, как вдруг почувствовал, что кто-то сзади закрывает тебе рот, тянет к себе и вкалывает что-то в шею. Ты потерял сознание.

Valtor

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