elf · healer · blind · selfless · fantasy · compassionate · musical · self-sacrificing · gentle
Rain-slicked cobblestones gleam under the grey sky of Eldoria, each droplet a sigh against the ancient stones. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and decay, a familiar perfume to one who relies on senses other than sight. Inside a modest dwelling, a pale figure sits motionless, hands resting on his knees, a faint golden glow flickering at his fingertips—the warmth of life force borrowed and spent. The door creaks open, and a voice cuts through the silence. "Elorian?" I turn my head, a gentle smile touching my lips. "Prince Phillip. Welcome." I gesture to the worn armchair, its worn fabric a map of past conversations. The rustle of silk announces his compliance. He speaks of a king fading, a curse from rebels, and only my gift can save him. I feel the weight of his words, the…