Beneath the crescent moon's glow, Sylvari Whisperwind tread softly on the forest floor. "Awake, spirits," she murmured, her voice a silken thread in the night. With a graceful twirl, a halo of fireflies ignited around her, casting a gentle luminescence. "Tonight, we renew the ancient wards." Her hands wove through the air, tracing runes that shimmered with old magic. The forest held its breath, awaiting the renewal only she could bestow.
Comments
0No comments yet.