Mystic Dark Veil

Unknown language and magicians

The old lady's question caught me off guard, her curiosity piqued by my familiarity with the unfamiliar language. Her smile, though, carried a warmth that put me at ease, as if she found a glimmer of familiarity in my presence.

"Do you read this language too, my child?" she inquired, her tone laced with genuine interest. "I've never encountered someone of your age who knows this language."

Her happiness was palpable, like a gentle breeze on a warm summer's day. She went on to share a glimpse of her past, her voice tinged with nostalgia and fond remembrance.

"I used to learn this language in my leisure time from my grandmother," she explained, her words painting a picture of cherished moments spent in the company of a beloved elder. "My grandmother was a noble who exuded elegance and grace in every step. I still have faint memories of our time together... she was so captivating that my grandfather remained wary of other men, even in his old age." 

Helen felt a pang of surprise course through her as she watched the old lady effortlessly decipher the unfamiliar script. "Madame," I began tentatively, my curiosity piqued, "I must confess my ignorance of this language. Yet, the inscription intrigues me. Might you assist me in unraveling its meaning?"

The old lady's smile held a hint of mystery as she replied, "Hoohoo, yes, my dear. Please, pass me the book. Let me peruse its contents."

With a mixture of anticipation and bewilderment, I retrieved the book from the nearby table, feeling its weight in my hands as I presented it to her. She accepted it with a graceful nod, her eyes immediately drawn to the intricate symbols adorning the pages.

As she immersed herself in the cryptic text, time seemed to slow, each moment stretched taut with anticipation. I watched in quiet awe as her gaze darted across the pages, her expression shifting subtly with each revelation.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as the old lady meticulously deciphered the enigmatic language. With a sudden clarity, she looked up, her eyes sparkling with newfound understanding.

"It is a language of old," she explained, her voice carrying a weight of ancient wisdom. "A tongue spoken by civilizations long forgotten, etched into the annals of time."

I leaned forward, captivated by her words, eager to uncover the secrets hidden within the pages. "And what does it say?" I inquired, my heart racing with anticipation.

And with that, she returned the book to my trembling hands, leaving me with a newfound sense of wonder and the promise of untold adventures yet to unfold.

unknown language ~~~~○○○○○○○○○○
[Η ψυχή ενός καλλιεργητή αποκτά δύναμη από τις πεποιθήσεις τους. Να είστε σίγουροι και να καλέσετε τον Πήγασο του χιονιού. Φωνάξτε το όνομα που επιλέγετε από αυτά τα τρία - Balnairas, Sylphior ή Custard. Το θηρίο θα σας καθοδηγούσε στην αιώνια καλλιέργεια] (written in greek )

The old lady fixed her gaze upon me, her voice taking on a tone both wise and commanding. "A cultivator's soul," she began, her words resonating with ancient knowledge, "draws strength from their beliefs. Be steadfast and summon forth the snow pegasus. Choose a name from these three: Balnairas, Sylphior, or Custard. The creature shall serve as your guide on the path to eternal cultivation."

Her words hung in the air, laden with a sense of profound significance. I felt a shiver of anticipation ripple through me, mingling with a newfound determination. This was no ordinary instruction; it carried the weight of destiny itself.

The names swirled in my mind, each one imbued with its own unique essence. Balnairas, with its regal ring, conjured images of strength and resilience. Sylphior, ethereal and mysterious, whispered of hidden depths and untold secrets. And then there was Custard, an unexpected choice amidst the grandeur, yet possessing a charm all its own.