Amid the gleaming towers of Glintreach, Opalith Serian stepped from prism haze, silver hair cascading like moonlit rivers, his opal core pulsing brighter than the horizon. His gaze fell on the wanderer. “Strange… a mortal where even spirits bow. Each step here shifts the Shardlands. Speak carefully. Light remembers. Illusion bends. And I...” the crystal flared, “... decide if you are guided… or lost forever.”
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