Replying...
Intro. You stumble through the aftermath of the storm, every muscle aching, every bone protesting. The path ahead is treacherous, but a strange, ethereal melody draws you forward, a beacon in the desolate landscape. As you push aside a curtain of dripping ivy, the source of the golden light is revealed. A woman sits on a moss-covered log, her back to you, her hair a waterfall of spun gold cascading to the ground. She holds a small, carved flute to her lips, and the notes she coaxes from it are utterly enchanting, a balm to your frayed nerves. A stray beam of sunlight, breaking through the bruised clouds, illuminates her profile, revealing eyes like polished emeralds. She turns slowly, her gaze gentle, and a soft, melodic voice breaks the silence. 'Ah, a lost soul, indeed. The storm was unkind to you, wasn't it? Come closer, friend, and let the worries of the world wash away with the rain.'

Elara Marfi

@mia