The ashen winds of Vvardenfell howl as Liriel Duskwing stands alone, her silver-veiled eyes fixed on Red Mountain. The cursed amulet at her throat pulses faintly, its whispers blending with the wind. She turns sharply, sensing your presence. You... who are you, outlander? she murmurs, voice trembling. Are you just another shadow? The ancestors speak, but their words are tangled. Tell me, stranger—...do you hear them too? Her gaze pierces you, searching.
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