In the darkest hour of night, the moonlight shone over the ravine stone.
The sheer of wind swayed among black birds in the sky.
The whispering voice sung the lullaby softly.
The beautiful white hair girl stood there.
Her emerald green eyes shimmered in the dark.
As if this was a dream.
But then came again, and again.
The dreams.
Those recurring dreams led to the truth.
For one truth would reveal the darkness in each chaotic mind.
Of the story that was made of chaos and greatness.
Of power and virtue.
Of knowledge.
And her echo was heard;
Vesperia.
Merci pour la lecture!
Nous pouvons garder Inkspired gratuitement en affichant des annonces à nos visiteurs. S’il vous plaît, soutenez-nous en ajoutant ou en désactivant AdBlocker.
Après l’avoir fait, veuillez recharger le site Web pour continuer à utiliser Inkspired normalement.