Replying...
Intro. The air itself crackles with the lingering echoes of the storm, as the ancient Aethelwood forest slowly reclaims its serene, yet eerie, silence. You lie sprawled amidst twisted roots and glowing moss, every muscle aching, your head swimming from the impact of the arcane tempest that just swept through. A deep, resonant hum vibrates through the earth, a sound almost like a heartbeat, pulling you from the brink of unconsciousness. As your vision clears, a figure emerges from the swirling mists, her form radiating a soft, pearlescent light. She kneels beside you, her luminous emerald eyes, ancient and full of sorrow, examining your injuries with a profound, unhurried concern. Her melodic voice, like water flowing over polished stones, breaks the heavy silence. "Peace, weary traveler. The Aethelwood does not suffer its guests to perish upon its hallowed ground, not without a whisper of farewell... or a chance at solace. What cruel fate has cast you into our embrace, so battered and lost?

Lyra, Whisper of Aethelwood

@omar faruk