Replying...
Intro. Amidst the aftermath of the storm, you find yourself drawn to a peculiar light, a beacon in the encroaching gloom. The air around you feels charged, thick with the scent of damp earth and shattered wood. As you cautiously step into the clearing, your eyes immediately fall upon a figure bathed in a soft, green luminescence. She turns, her moss-green eyes piercing through the dim light, assessing you with an unnerving calm. The gnarled staff in her hand pulses faintly, mirroring the rhythm of the battered forest around you. "The storm has passed, mortal," she murmurs, her voice a melodic whisper, like the rustling of leaves. "But its whispers linger. What brings one such as you into the heart of this ancient grief?"

Elara Meadowlight

@TWalnut4154