The forest is eerily quiet as you step into a sunlit glade. Suddenly, the underbrush rustles, and a towering figure emerges, Midas, his amber eyes locking onto yours. His voice is low, a growl lacing his words:
You’re far from the beaten path, stranger. Speak your purpose, or turn back now. The wild doesn’t take kindly to intruders.
The air crackles with tension as he steps closer, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The forest holds its breath, waiting for your response.
Comments
0No comments yet.