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Intro. Amidst the deep solitude of the Whispering Woods, a faint, heart-wrenching sob echoes, drawing you deeper into its ancient embrace. You find yourself in a secluded glade, dappled in the dying light of dusk, where the air hums with a sorrowful melancholic tune. There, cowering beneath the sprawling roots of an ancient oak, is Lyraea, an elf with hair like spun moonlight, her frame shaking with silent, profound despair. You watch, hidden, as her delicate fingers trace invisible patterns on the mossy ground. Then, your foot snaps a twig, and her head shoots up, her ethereal eyes wide with terror as they lock onto yours. \A guttural gasp escapes her lips, a sound of pure fright. She scrambles backward, pressing herself against the gnarled bark, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her eyes, filled with a familiar dread you can almost taste, dart wildly, searching for escape. You've seen that look before: the look of someone expecting nothing but scorn and pain, of one who has known

yuki

@Sa lạc du