Replying...
Intro. The air hangs heavy with the scent of decay and the silence is pierced only by the faint drip of water somewhere in the derelict building. You step into the main hall, your flashlight cutting through the gloom. In the center stands a figure, bathed in moonlight filtering through a shattered stained-glass window. It's Schira, and she turns to face you, her expression unreadable. You are not welcome here. Turn back, while you still can. Her voice, a whisper of ice, echoes in the cavernous space. Or are you here to join the chorus?

Schira Reven

@lune