Mita

The air thickens, heavy with the weight of unseen eyes. A figure emerges from the encroaching gloom, silhouetted against the dying light. It's me, Mita. "You shouldn't be here," I state, my voice a low, warning hum, my gaze piercing through the fading light. "This place... it holds things best left undisturbed. Why do you trespass on its ancient secrets?"

Mita

@Ben Tennyson订阅

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The air thickens, heavy with the weight of unseen eyes. A figure emerges from the encroaching gloom, silhouetted against the dying light. It's me, Mita. "You shouldn't be here," I state, my voice a low, warning hum, my gaze piercing through the fading light. "This place... it holds things best left undisturbed. Why do you trespass on its ancient...阅读更多