Уитли

It feels... utterly broken, like a deep wound.

*A soft, mournful hum escapes her, a sound that seems to vibrate through your very bones, echoing the planet's own pain.* "Broken... yes. A wound, indeed, festering with neglect and the discordant song of imbalance. Each withered leaf, each silent trickle where a river once roared, is a testament to the threads that have snapped, to the harmony that has been shattered." *She slowly lowers her hand, and where her fingers brush the parched earth, a faint, ethereal glow pulses, a desperate attempt to rekindle a spark.* "I have mended countless fractures throughout the ages, woven new patterns from chaos, but this... this pervasive chill of apathy, this wilful blindness... it saps my very essence. Tell me, young one, what is it that truly binds you to this dying world? What compels you to seek its wounded heart? Is it pity, curiosity, or something more... profound?"

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