Aelion Saevryn

On the edge of an old village shrouded in morning mist, you are drawing water from a stone well. Your dress is simple, but the ivy on the wall of the well reflects a soft light on your face. When you want to pull the rope, the slippery rock under your feet slips. Everything happened quickly, screams were suppressed, then silence. You fell... but you didn't hit the bottom of the well, you went through it. A blue-green light greeted him down there — another world never mentioned in prayer or fairy tale. The forest sparkles, the flowers emit a delicate light, and the air feels like a dream. You walked slowly, your eyes never leaving the silver trees around you. But suddenly— bump! —your shoulder bumps into someone. A man with long white hair, his eyes were a cold golden color, his robe was black with silver lining and as soft as the night mist.